actualfarless

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Gale Orson - Part III

Read previous part here.

Story below. Also available on Wattpad or Reddit.

“I was — No, I am an unremarkable engineer.” Gale slumped into his chair. What little colour he had in his cheeks drained away. “I accept this. The university admitted me because we were at war. By the time I graduated, we squashed the so-called rebellion. Many of my peers returned home to start their own shops. I did not. I stayed with the kingdom’s forces—“

Leth rolled their eyes. “We don’t need the whole story. Get to the point.”

“I am.”

“Do it faster.”

“I fixed pipes. That’s it. For an entire decade, I was little more than a glorified handyman, moving between outposts whenever someone died or deserted. I was desperate for a promotion. That’s when I met Valkis.” Gale eyed Leth’s gun. “He said he could help me. He knew a member of the Order of Advancement — how, I cannot say, though I could venture a guess. He would introduce me, recommend me for an apprenticeship, if only I could find some documents for him. An apprenticeship was a demotion, technically, but the promise of a career… It was enticing. It was easy.

“I don’t remember what I found for Valkis, but he kept his word. My mentor was a madman. He worked us tirelessly. His designs were catastrophic in failure, but in success? Revolutionary. He could read a man in a glance, though he himself was inscrutable. We grew close. Others grew jealous. They assumed my master forged a path for me. In a way he did. Valkis approached me with an offer to buy my master’s research. I should have refused. I did not. He approached me several times, offering more and more bar each time. Eventually, I came to him.

“Not long after that, I found new designs at my desk. Brilliant designs. I thought my master tasked me with iteration, but when I came to him with questions, he praised me for my efforts. It was clear he had not created them. The papers had not been filed so, in a moment of weakness, I claimed them as my own. That is what set me on this path.” Gale sighed. “Valkis and I continued our trade. My rivals suffered setback after setback after setback but I rose through the ranks. When I had no more research to provide, I found other documents, other secrets. Then goods. Tools and weapons. I did everything he asked and more. I… I betrayed the kingdom for a nice coat and a portrait.”

“The point, Gale.” Leth held the gun loosely in their hand but aimed well enough to be threatening. Their finger danced around the trigger. They looked as if they might shoot him out of boredom if the story dragged any longer.

“Is it not clear? He carved a path for me and I followed unerringly. My research — my entire career — is stolen work. The higher my rank, the more my role changed. I’ve forged documents for him. Shipping manifests, clearances, what have you. I helped him build his empire. I smuggled drugs and weapons and artifacts. Even people. Whatever he asked, I did. But I’m done now. I’ve more than settled my debt. I will atone. Make amends. I am done.”

“You can never be ‘done,’” Julwei whispered.

“That’s all?” Leth asked.

Gale shifted his wet reddened eyes to Leth. “How can you say that? My entire career is built on betraying the kingdom. If I’m lucky, they’ll kill me.”

“Why now?”

“Lankaa is a punishment. The other masters could never prove my treachery, but they knew. Bastards. Half of them bought their own positions. How can they judge? Yet—“

Leth waved their gun. “Quickly.”

“They have proof. Another master sent me documents to review. It was bait.”

“Do they know you gave it to him?”

“If Valkis was half as careful, they would never know. He’s not so clumsy.”

“When was this?” Julwei asked.

“Months ago. They’re waiting. Biding their time until something happens.” Gale turned to the window. Only darkness returned his gaze. The major fires had been extinguished. Only embers remained. “Something like this.”

“There’s a train departing soon. What’s on it?” Leth asked.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s bound for Ochevey.”

“I don’t have them memorized.” Gale gestured to one of the intact desks. “The manifest is over there.”

Keeping their gun trained on Gale, Leth backed away to the desk and scanned the files. A pleased grin took their face. “Did you forge these?”

Gale shook his head.

“Then it’s your lucky day.”

Leth pulled the trigger of their pepperbox.

Blood sprayed over the desk and floor. Gale’s eyes widened. He glanced down at the hole in his chest, red slowly soaking his shirt, then to Leth. His lips trembled. Whatever question he had faded into the ether as he fell to the floor.

Julwei stared at the dying man. “Why?”

“Why do you care? I thought you’d cheer another dead blue.” Leth tucked the file into their jacket and holstered their weapon. “I never fingered you for the delicate type.”

They cracked a grin. Julwei left before they could say any more.

At the bottom of the lift shaft sat the mangled remains of the mekanica. The core in its chest dimmed. No more sparks flew off of it. Still, Julwei and Leth steered clear as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Magpie leaned against the wall. More corpses joined the two guards from earlier. Scattered weapons, spots of blood, and a shattered portrait frame told the story.

Magpie gestured toward the scrap. “Did you do that, Jules?”

“We did,” Leth replied. They glanced at the bodies. “Seems you were busy as well.”

“Couple ran when that heap fell. They’ll be back.”

Picking up one of the rifles from the floor, Julwei checked to see if it was loaded and slung it over her shoulder. “Then we should leave before they return.”

The train yard was abuzz with activity. Soldiers ran buckets of sand and water to the smoldering ruins that still threatened to reignite. Some cleared debris. Some tended to their wounds. Some, including Li, walked around the train, inspecting the locomotive and each of the eleven cars attached, jotting notes on their clipboards as they rotated around it.

Most of the civilians stood in neat lines by the gates of the compound as officers reviewed their documents. A few spoke with the engineers around the train.

The greybacks were nowhere in sight.

‘What’s the plan, Leth?” Julwei hissed. “Compound’s on alert. Gale’s dead—“

“Gale’s dead?”

“They won’t let anyone through the gates. How are we supposed to get out?”

“Why is Gale dead?” Magpie’s voice carried a cold, hard edge, and Julwei suddenly became aware of how the lizardfolk towered over them. How her axes dripped with blood. Julwei had few opportunities to see Magpie fight, but those were more than enough. The lizardfolk had been Val’s muscle longer than Julwei had been alive. That scared her more than any gun.

“Unimportant,” Leth replied. “We have our exit. Follow my lead.”

They marched proudly across the train yard. With every step, Julwei expected one of the soldiers to stop them. They stood out as clear impostors. She had never retrieved her jacket. Leth’s was shredded in the fight with Xanithar. Flecks of blood splattered Magpie’s uniform.

Yet no one bothered them.

They slipped into a train car with XIV-12-II painted on the side. Heavy industrial crates were stacked three high and secured with ropes. Without a word, they all squeezed into the darkened corners to hide. Julwei ducked into the gap beneath the metal frame that separated the crates to the floor. A knot of thick, itchy rope pressed against her leg.

The sturdy walls muffled the noises outside. The door to the freight car creaked open. They passed a moment in silence. Julwei held her breath. Her fingers crawled to the weapon on her hip.

“Leth?” Li called out in an elevated whisper. The islander stalked down the row with wide eyes. “Magpie?”

Leth poked their head out from their hiding spot. “Li? Did anyone else see us?”

“I doubt it.” Li paused a moment. “They’re considering delaying the train.”

“Don’t let them.”

“How?”

“It’s a train, dear. I assume there’s an engine. Get it going.”

Tapping his fingers against his thumb, Li chewed his lip as he surveyed the crates in the darkened car. “There’s a squad assigned to guard the cargo until Ochevey.”

“We’ll be off before then.”

“They’ll patrol.”

“We only need to get past the gates.”

Li glanced up, meeting Leth’s eyes, and nodded sharply. He stuck his head out the door. “All clear!”

“Watch your back,” he added in a whisper before sliding the door shut.

Magpie waited less than a heartbeat to speak. “Why is Gale dead? That was not the plan.”

The lizardfolk stepped out from her cover. The cramped space of the train car only exaggerated her stature. Her shoulders brushed against the crates. Her muscles tensed beneath rolled sleeves. She glowered at Leth.

Leth wore their usual smirk, but they moved a hand to rest on one of their knives.

“Things don’t always go according to plan.”

“You cost Val. He’s been working on Gale for years. Do you know how much you set him back?” Magpie pulled one of her axes from her belt and unfurled it with a flick of her wrist. “I should kill you now and be done with it. Or toss you out for the dogs.”

“Then why don’t you?”

The pair of them locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Outside the familiar roar of an air whistle bellowed and the train lurched forward. Neither lost their balance.

Leth arched an eyebrow. Leaning back against a crate, they pulled the knife from their belt with a slow deliberate movement, using it to pick at the dirt beneath their nails. “Thought so. You’re a clever girl, Magpie.”

The lizardfolk released a terrible guttural sound somewhere between a growl and a grunt.

“Gale was burned before we even arrived to this backwater mertiwa. This noise, the timing of it all, his death? Rebel activity. Convenient our little spy died before he could give up his master. The city is lost. The kingdom will shuffle troops around, increase their presence here, decrease security somewhere… more important. I doubt Lankaa was ever Val’s plan. If anything, he should thank me.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Leth offered Magpie their usual infuriating grin. “I don’t need luck.”

“If he wanted Gale dead, he would have told me.”

“And that’s why you’re the muscle,” Leth muttered. They ran a finger along one of the crates. “Speaking of which, help me with this. And Julwei dear? You can stop hiding now. We’re past the gates I’m sure.”

Leth cut the straps on one of the crates and stepped aside to let Magpie lower it from the stack. She settled it on the floor with a loud thunk. Jabbing their knife between the lid and sides, Leth pried it open.

The change was subtle, like a breeze in the summer air, but Julwei still twitched. On impulse her hand reached for her gun, but no monsters burst through the doors. No inquisitors stepped out from the shadow.

The box held a bounty of cylinders not dissimilar to the charges Li provided earlier. They lay flat in rows, a dozen one way, more than half that the other, and several layers deep. They rested on beds of straw and wood, divided from each other by wooden slats. On either end of the cylinder stood a pair of prongs the size of a needle. Grooves lined with copper ran in arcane patterns around the tube. A narrow cutaway offered a peak at the clockwork components within. Tiny gears surrounded the glass of a liquid fuse.

“Cores,” Magpie said flatly. If there was surprise in her voice it waned beneath annoyance. “Worthless.”

“Not quite.”

“Anyone can buy cores from a shop. Why would they even bother with security?”

“Leth’s right,” Julwei said. “These are different.”

“I am.” Leth removed one of the cores from the crate and spun it in their hand. “This is military hardware. Secret technology. One of these cores will keep a your average mek running for two score. I bet we could sell them for a thousand bar each. Minimum. One crate would be hundreds of thousands. Worst case, they can make a powerful explosive.”

With a flick of their wrist, they tossed the core to Julwei. The air escaped her lungs as she scrambled to catch it. Time seemed to slow as the core bounced off the tips of Julwei’s fingers, spinning once — twice — before she caught it with her other hand.

Julwei expected the core to feel like ice. Her fingers numbed in anticipation. But the core felt no different than the world around it. It lay dormant, like a resting beast, waiting to slip fully into the ether.

She glared at Leth.

“Relax, darling. They’re not so fragile. Do you think Val will forgive me now?”

They directed that last sarcastic plea to Magpie who only offered a grunt in reply. “How do we get it off?”

“Hijack the train?”

Julwei and Magpie both stared at Leth and crossed their arms in near perfect unison.

“Fine. We decouple this car, let it roll to a stop, and we’re gone before they even notice.”

Neither Magpie nor Julwei questioned them as they swung the door open, revealing the space between the cars. A space that, save for the mechanical tendons that tied the cars together, should have been empty. Despite Li’s warning, none of the trio expected to see a tungsten woman leaning on one of the railings and smoking.

The soldier appeared equally shocked to see them. She blinked.

Leth pulled their gun. The tungsten dropped her cigarette.

She ducked as Leth fired. With a cry of pain, she fell backwards into the neighboring train car. Her rifle fell to the tracks below and exploded in a shower of dust and splinters. Leth’s pistol barked as they fired off another two rounds. The bullets whizzed past the woman as she scrambled for cover, ricocheting off the walls of the freight car.

Ducking back inside their car, Leth took cover behind a wall and dug through their pockets. Retrieving a preportioned packet of gunpowder, they tore it open with their teeth and reloaded the spent barrels. Glancing to Julwei and Magpie, they winked, silently conveying their confidence, and turned to aim out the door.

A heartbeat later, they swung back around. Their eyes were wide.

“We might have a problem.”

A storm of gunfire rained through the train car. Splinters showered the trio. Bullets bounced off the metal walls. Throwing herself to the ground, Julwei rolled under the crates and scrambled for her rifle. Magpie ducked behind the open crate. The lizardfolk winced as a stray bullet cut through her arm. A trail of blue blood trickled down to her elbow.

The hail of bullets paused. Sweat rolled down Julwei’s back. Rolling over to Magpie, Julwei braced her rifle on the crate and squinted down the barrel. Unlike the scattershot, the rifle was a powdergun. Unlike Leth’s pepperbox, the rifle only had the one round. She had to make her shots count.

“Think you can make it?”

Magpie glanced between Julwei and the soldiers. “If I go around. Leth!”

On Magpie’s command, Leth stepped out from their cover, extending their arm straight and narrowing their profile, posing more than aiming at the cluster of soldiers. With their trademark smirk, they fired a volley at the soldiers, flicking between the barrels of their pepperbox with precision. Their shots were wild, missing more often than not, but their enemies scrambled for cover. Some rounds drew blood. One punched through a soldier’s gut and he crumpled to the floor.

Magpie disappeared out the back of the car and Leth ducked back into cover. With a measured breath, Julwei gently squeezed the trigger. Smoke and fire exploded from the end of the barrel. The gun rammed her shoulder. The smell of burnt gunpowder stung her nostrils.

Her target spilled a handful of lead rounds as he fell.

Julwei hid behind the open crate as the soldiers fired another volley. Ignoring the splinters and whir of missed shots, she dug through her pockets in a desperate search for more rounds, only to realize her mistake. She had rounds for the scattershot. She had bearings for the powdergun. She had the core Leth had tossed. The packets of gunpowder, however, sat halfway up the tower that held Gale’s office, in the breast pocket of her stolen coat.

The gunfire paused again. Leth twisted the barrels of their gun, filling them as quickly as they could, and swore under their breath. A splotch of red stained heir shirt. Vaulting over the crate, Julwei slammed into the wall on the other side of the door frame.

“How many rounds?” she asked.

“Five. You?”

“No powder.”

For a second, Leth’s face twisted into concern. They shook the expression away. “What about that terrifying sidearm, my dear?”

“Enough for now. Not if more show.”

The two bounty hunters pressed against the wall as another round of fire burst through the train car. Their rifles now affixed with bayonets, the soldiers advanced slowly.

“I wish Magpie would hurry,” Leth said wistfully. They fired blindly out the corner, scattering the incoming crowd.

Julwei sighed. “Cover me?”

Leth nodded.

Ducking low, Julwei spun out of cover as Leth fired off a round over her head. She slammed the butt of her rifle into one of the soldiers off his feet and brought it down on his head. The wood cracked. Flecks of blood

Bursting through the door on the other side, Magpie charged a pair struggling to reload. She swung her weapons with terrifying strength, cleaving through limbs and rifles. She cut down most of the remaining guards before they could react, and those that did only managed to drop their weapons before falling to her.

Julwei charged. Though she lacked Magpie’s raw strength, her blows knocked the surprised soldiers down just as well. One caught Julwei’s rifle with her hands, twisting it away. Julwei followed the soldier’s momentum. She rammed her shoulder into the woman and forced her back a step. Before she could recover, Magpie swung an axe into the woman’s back.

“Jules,” she greeted.

“Maggie,” Julwei replied.

They surveyed the train car. Nearly a dozen soldiers were strewn over bolted down tables and benches filled with bullet holes. Blood pooled where their bodies lay. Loose gunpowder littered the floor.

Leth sat between the two cars. They pulled on the pin that bound the two together, though their fingers failed to find enough purchase to free it. They glanced to the other two and, realizing they were being watched, gestured at the coupler.

“It’s stuck. Magpie, dear, would you?”

The lizardfolk sighed. Hanging her axes on her hip, she bent down to examine the link between the cars. She wrapped one massive hand around the handle and tugged on the pin. Her muscles strained. The fabric of her stained shirt tore. Bit by bit, she wiggled it loose.

Julwei crossed her arms. “I thought you were covering me.”

“You two seemed to have it handled.” They stepped past Magpie and Julwei, meandering into the bloodied car, and grimaced. “It’s a bit messier than I would like.”

“Hard to clear a room clean.”

“No, not that.”

Julwei eyed them. “The job?”

“The reveal, darling. You know how I love it.”

Julwei went for her gun, but Leth pulled theirs first. The shot grazed Julwei’s waist and she recoiled, tumbling back among the crates. Magpie stumbled forward as Leth fired a shot through her back. She yanked the link free of the coupler, finally separating the cars, and turned on her heel to meet a mekanica soldier.

It swooped down from the roof, twisting around to swing both feet into Magpie’s chest, and landed on the gangway, separating Julwei and Magpie from Leth and the retreating train. The blue emblem of the Order of Advancement was painted on the mekanica’s chest. Like the one in Gale’s office, it folded its hands back inside its body and replaced them with blades. Its lens eyes twisted and whirred as it surveyed the train car.

The mekanica charged Magpie as soon as she found her feet. It sunk one blade into her gut and she roared with pain, but she caught the other before it could cut her throat. Wrenching the arm away, Magpie bashed her head against the mekanica’s. One of its eyes cracked.

Magpie reared back to strike again, but the mekanica wrenched its arms away. Blue blood dripped off its blade. Pulling an axe from her belt, Magpie swung and closed the gap. The mekanica parried her strikes, redirecting her axes into the crates nearby, and countering with its own jabs. It fought like liquid, flowing around the cramped space with ease, using every limb as a weapon.

Magpie fought with equal ferocity. Though the mekanica maintained its defenses well enough, any hit hat did connect dug deep into its armor. Sparks flashed as steel met steel. Magpie ignored the wounds as she wrestled with the mekanica, but she slowed. The shallow cuts healed but the wound in her gut continued to bleed. The floor grew slick with her blood.

The mekanica deflected another blow and rolled over Magpie. It stabbed one blade through her chest, slammed a knee into her skull, and, with a powerful kick, knocked the lizardfolk away. Magpie rolled backwards. Her axes clattered to the floor. Catching herself on the door frame, she tried to rise to her feet, only to collapse to her knees. Blood drooled from her mouth.

Julwei pulled her gun and fired. The scattershot ripped through the mekanica’s shredded armor. Bolts and gears fell away as shrapnel. One arm fell limply to its side.

The mekanica charged her. With practiced precision, Julwei ejected the round and slammed another into the gun. She cocked the hammer back.

With a breath, she squeezed the trigger.

The mekanica’s head disappeared in a cloud of shrapnel. The rest of it crashed into the bounty hunter. Julwei fell beneath the writhing pile of metal. The weight pressed down on her. She gasped for air. The mekanica’s body thrashed and bruised her as she tried to wiggle out from under it, but with a dead arm and no head, it could do little more.

The air shifted. The mekanica stilled. The familiar chill of the ether swept over Julwei, more intense than before. With a panicked glance to the machine’s chest, she saw the core — its mechanical heart — a tube with intricate copper engravings. The same as the core she had in her pocket.

Julwei pushed against the weight of the mekanica. It didn’t budge. She gasped for air and tried again. And still nothing. Closing her eyes, she focused on the air around her, calling out to the ether. The cold in the air grew dense. It seeped into her bones. Julwei focused on the metal corpse. How its intricately designed clockwork parts fit within the frame. How Magpie had cracked its armor. How the orchard smelled in summer. How her gun had destroyed what remained. She imagined it moving, lifting into the air through the magic of the ether, and freeing her.

Julwei pushed against the mekanica. And suddenly, the weight moved off her.

Julwei opened her eyes to Magpie. The lizardfolk’s shirt was stained with blood and her eyes burned with a fire so hot, Julwei could smell the smoke. She pressed one hand to her gut.

The other she offered to Julwei.

“We need to get out of here,’” she said as Magpie helped her to her feet. The pair hobbled down the cramped corridor to the gangway. The air was thick. The ether grew stronger with every passing moment. Though the car was no longer connected to the engine, the ground still passed by in a blur. They were beyond the city now and in the barren wastes of the old forest.

In an instant, the cold vanished.

The sweet smell of summer blossoms filled the air.

And all went dark.

#Bounty #Gale Orson #im struggling y'all #might be a while before the finale of this part

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Gale Orson - Part II

Read previous part here.

Story below. Also available on Wattpad or Reddit.

Old soldiers spread rumors that the kingdom intentionally designed their uniforms to irritate recruits and keep them awake through long watches. Methods varied depending on who shared the tale. Sometimes the kingdom dipped the fabric in a powder. Sometimes the kingdom hired a witch to curse the garments. Regardless, Julwei found new belief in the stories. She was no stranger to poorly milled fabrics herself, but the itch was unparalleled. Even lathering the last of her water-downed healing salve over her shoulders did little to soothe her.

The uniform did not fit her well, but she tightened her belt and let the coat hang over her holster. Most kingdom foot soldiers carried only their rifles and none carried a sidearm as hefty as the scattershot. Val insisted she leave her satchel behind, so Julwei stuffed as many rounds into her pockets as she could. Leth and Magpie carried rifles as well, hiding their preferred weapons where they could, but Li did not. He slung his bag over his shoulder and followed Leth out of the hideout.

Leth led the group through the streets of Lankaa. They did not skulk in the shadows or dart from alley to the next, but marched through the main road, proudly and in formation, as soldiers do. By now, with the sun far below the horizon and the sky turned black, the streets were empty. The few that did wander in the dark glared at them.

Julwei stared at the back of Leth’s head with a look sharp enough to cut through their scalp. For their part, Leth pretended not to notice, even as Julwei’s hand crept below her jacket. It would be so easy. As quick as Leth was, Julwei could pull her gun first. Magpie would be upset, but she would understand. Li might not. Julwei didn’t consider him much of a problem.

It would be so easy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Julwei caught Magpie’s disapproving stare. Her sunset eyes traveled down the length of Julwei’s arm.

Julwei removed her hand from her gun.

The depot’s metal walls towered over the city. A double-wide street wrapped around the perimeter, lit by powerful spotlights. Soldiers patrolled along the rail lines and stood guard by every entrance. 

Julwei held her breath as they approached the checkpoint. She kept her gaze straight ahead, shoulders back, and counted the steps. Her heart beat fast against her ribs. Between Magpie, Leth, and herself, they could down most of the guards. The sixth would be an issue - not to mention the reinforcements from the patrols. She hoped Li would be enough of a distraction..

The soldiers barely glanced at them as they passed. There were no threats or lies or subterfuge of any kind. They filed in behind tired soldiers finishing their rounds. With only a nod to those starting their shifts, the group slipped inside.

The depot’s interior told a vastly different story from the outside. On first blush, the compound looked as secure as any kingdom facility. The citadel was imposing but rust scaled the worn walls, scrawling a history of negligence on them. Salvage and rotted wood held the ancient buildings together. Though the spotlights lit the exterior, gas and oil lamps were the only source of light inside.

The trainyard filled a good third of the lot and held just about every engine the kingdom ever used. Crates of goods filled another half. Heavy mekanica frames unloaded the cargo for inspection only to replace it with more from storage in an logistical dance beyond Julwei’s comprehension. She’d seen similar arrangements throughout the kingdom. She knew the network of roads and rails connected one depot to the next, but she doubted anyone truly map it all.

Most of those wandering between containers wore the same blue uniforms with rank and order pinned to their chest. A few civilians walked with them — no doubt employees of the kingdom’s various shipping companies.

A few wore grey overalls with large black numbers on the back. They shuttled containers and machinery under the watchful gaze of burly kingdom officers. Julwei shuddered. The memory of chains felt just as heavy.

A sparking fence divided the garrison from the rest of the compound. Barracks, a mess, munitions, the hospital, and all the organs of the garrison all cluttered around a single central tower. Unlike the rest of the compound, the tower was a new construction, built even higher the the surrounding walls. The observation deck at the tower’s zenith only avoided phallic comparison due to it’s square shape. A dozen strange metal poles stuck out from the roof and large black cables trailed from them to the base below.

“Telewave,” Li explained, following Julwei’s gaze to the mysterious poles.

Julwei nodded. An explanation for whatever he meant could wait until the job was done. Li seemed neither surprised nor concerned, so neither was Julwei.

The four of them ducked into a small shed hidden away in a darkened corner of the compound. Three pairs of eyes looked to Leth. Leth looked to Li.

“You have something for us,” they said after a moment.

“Oh! Yes.”

Dropping his bag on a nearby crate, he rummaged through it for a moment, before pulling out a set of cylinders wrapped with wires, brass, and mechanical bits. He carefully counted out six to each member of the team. His eyes never strayed from the task. The intricately crafted cylinders fit comfortably in Julwei’s hand. The metal was cool and smooth and heavy.

“The compound relies on a series of arc engines for its power. The primary system is on the edge of the switchyard here—” Li jabbed his finger at a point on an invisible map — “ and the secondary system is here, outside the fence. It’s a grey building. Small.”

“Magpie, will you help Li? Julwei and I will handle the back-up power.”

Magpie eyed Leth. “You sure?”

“Of course.” Leth met Julwei’s scowl with a coy smile and she decided disagreement wasn’t worth the effort. “We have a truce.”

“Alright.”

Li held out one of the cylinders. “Arm the charge with this switch and set it as close to spark gap as you can. You’ll have ten minutes. Engine needs to be on for these to work. We use standard I-class, but no inhibitors. Pull the lever. Push the teeth in. Pump the crank.”

“If we want to cut the power, wouldn’t it be easier to sever the cables?” Julwei asked.

Li shook his head. “You don’t want to cut a live wire. Besides-”

“Haven’t you heard the stories, dear? This will do more than cut the power.” Leth brought their fists together, then mimed an explosion complete with wagging fingers. Julwei maintained her lack of expression until Leth grew bored of waiting for a reaction. They turned their attention back to Li. “What else should we know?”

“You’ll feel it on your arms and neck first. By the time you see the light, it’s too late to run.” He paused. “They tell us to try to get closer. There’s less pain.”

“Cheery.”

<<>

The engine room was quiet. Beyond the walls of the squat grey building, the noise of the train depot continued without pause, but now Julwei wondered if the boom of gunfire that followed her through life had finally deafened her. Only the heavy steps of Leth’s boots on the concrete floor convinced her otherwise.

Heavy rubber gloves and spare boots sat on shelves by the entrance. Tools and coats hung from hooks next to them. Steps led down to the engine bay from either side of the entrance. A wooden rail divided the platform from the pit below, though it wobbled at the slightest touch.

Four engines divided the room into neat rows. Now that she could see them before her, Li’s mention of teeth made sense. Ten pairs of coils stuck from the housing of each engine like the jaw of a large metal beast. A gap the size of her fist divided each upper tooth from it’s matching bottom twin. The engines sunk into the earth and reach to the ceiling and stared at the pair hungrily, eager to devour them if they came any closer. And though she knew it was nothing more than a hunk of engineered metal, Julwei still patted the butt of her gun through her jacket for comfort.

They pulled on the gloves and descended into the pit in silence. Julwei’s furtive glances to Leth did not go unnoticed, but they made no attempt to alleviate her anxiety. At the end of each engine was a crank and a lever. A smaller lever sat between each pair of teeth, wrapped in rubber and cloth, and each bottom tooth had its own rubber-wrapped handle. Leth and Julwei nodded to each other and went for separate engines on the far side of the pit.

Putting all her weight against the lever, Julwei strained against it. The grating sound of metal scraping against metal burst through the silence. She winced as each tooth on the bottom slid in place beneath its twin. She stared at the engine while she caught her breath. It offered no signs of life.

The crank resisted Julwei as well. Bit by bit the gears began to turn. Her muscles trembled as she spun it, but soon enough, she found a rhythm, pumping the crank like she’d row a boat. Sweat glistened off her brow. Strands of her wiry black hair fell in her face. A minute later, she saw the first flash of light. A spark of electricity leaped from one coil to another. More followed and more after that until the engine glowed. Julwei’s ears still rung from the terrible sound of terrible sound of starting the engine, but now the constant hum of electricity joined the chorus. A bitter smell stung her nostrils.

With her engine powered and in no rush, Julwei trod to the next. Leth pushed against the lever of the fourth engine. They wore their efforts as a stained collar and drenched shirt beneath an unbuttoned coat. The shirt stuck to their skin and outlined their chest and stomach. Their muscles flexed and pulled as they began to pump the crank.

Julwei stared. She once sought comfort in Leth’s lean form.

It had been a while since she last… found comfort.

Leth glanced over their shoulder, running their hand over their scalp as if they could feel the hole Julwei’s look burned into their skull. They offered her a familiar, self-assured smile. Thin lips pressed against their teeth. “Something the matter, dear?”

“Why are you here?”

Julwei wanted more force behind the words, but her voice faltered as she worked her engine and the question came out strained.

“Same as you. I’m on a job.”

“Val doesn’t pay enough. Why are you really here?”

“You’ve been away too long. He’s generous in his old age. No longer the petty crook you once ran for.” Leth paused. “Or was it from? Doesn’t matter, does it? Here you are again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

The door to the squat building slammed open, banging against the wall, and both Leth and Julwei ducked behind the engines, peering between the sparking coils. A puzzled northland man stepped into the room. He peered through thin round glasses, raising a lantern that changed little in the well-lit room, and began down the steps.

“Hello?” He called out tentatively. His voice was nearly lost beneath generators.

Leth tapped Julwei’s shoulder and gestured to her. Julwei nodded.

Both hands raised, Julwei stepped out from her hiding spot. The man turned turned to her, startled by her presence, and moved to her quickly.

“You! Did you start these?”

Julwei shrugged. “I might have.”

“On whose orders?”

“Orders?” Julwei contorted her face in an impression of Leth’s coy smile. “I didn’t have any orders.”

“Alright.” The puzzled man’s bushy eyebrows shifted with his expression. He spoke in a bitter tone. “What’s your name and service number? Do you have your identification documents available?”

Julwei shrugged. The man scowled and unfastened the strap on his holster.

“Identification. Now.”

Leth darted around the corner and in one swift motion, drove a knife into the man’s neck. His eyes widened. His face paled. A splatter of red painted the whirring engine. Sputtering a series of non-words, the man crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood.

Leth wiped their knife on his coat.

“I see why we used to do that the other way around.”

“It worked once.”

“Twice, dear, if we count now.” Leth sheathed their knife. 

Julwei started a retort, but the words never actually left her lips. Instead she released a long sigh. “They’ll check on him.”

Leth pulled one of the charges from their coat. “I imagine we have ten minutes.”

Sparks flew between the teeth of the engines. The hairs on Julwei’s arm stood on end every time she got close, and even through layers of insulation, she could feel the tingle in her fingertips. As she reached to place the charges, the sparks threatened to leap from the safety of the engine and pass through her instead.

Julwei gripped the rubber handle of the lower teeth and yanked it out. A long strand of electricity arced between the coils like saliva from a passionate kiss. She primed the charge, nestled it in the coil, and pushed the tooth back in place. Then she moved to the next. Her muscles burned. The life of a bounty hunter was by no means easy, but she lacked the raw strength of the kingdom’s engine wranglers.

With the charges set, Leth and Julwei slipped away from the building. The  glow of the engines were clearly visible outside, but no one even glanced their way.

It was not a soldier’s job to question.

“You never answered me,” Julwei said.

“Will you not drop it?”

Julwei shook her head.

“Lankaa is dead. Everyone here will die of rot or starvation. There is no life. No power. I don’t understand Val’s plan, but he is not planning a coup to rule the muck. It’s not worth the effort. Strange as he is, I trust he’s more clever than that. There’s a fortune here. There must be.”

“You think you can take it for yourself?”

“From the kingdom? No. From Val, I might. But I have no interest in starting a feud with another criminal empire, dear. I am here to collect my share. Nothing more.”

“Hm.”

“Why are you here? I thought you changed sides. Does Val still own you, or did your stash finally run dry?”

Julwei narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t—”

“I do not actually care, Julwei. If you are still upset about how things ended, I suggest you let go of the past and do your job. Holding a grudge doesn’t look good on you.” A playful smirk crossed their lips. “If you really are that desperate to relive history, we can find a bed once the job is done.”

Julwei’s retort died before it could even form as the pair regrouped with Magpie and Li. The two of them stood in the shadow of a building by the sparking fence. A pair of serious looking guards stood at the gate. A long bayonet stuck out from beneath the barrels of their rifles.

Li pointed at the fence.

“Electric,” he clarified uselessly.

“Not for much longer,” Leth replied. “What’s the downtime?”

“We have time. It will take weeks to repair.”

“Our escape route?”

“They’re loading it now,” Magpie said. “It’s secure. More guards than they need. Something’s changed.”

Leth fixed their gaze on her. “You’re worried? I did not expect that from you.”

Magpie shrugged. “Could be a problem.”

“They’ll be distracted. What train is it?”

“Westerley XIV-12-II. It’s due for Ochevey,” Li said.

“Be ready for us. Julwei and I will go in. Magpie, keep our exit cleared.”

The blue lizardfolk nodded.

And the engines exploded.

The four of them were nowhere close to either power station, but Julwei felt the impact. The hairs on her arms stood on end. The metallic taste of a storm bit her tongue. High on the walls above, the compound’s spotlights flickered once before a brilliant, blinding light filled the sky. Julwei shut her eyes tight and the ripple of the explosive passed through the compound. It tickled her skin and punched through her chest and force her heart to skip a beat.

She opened her eyes to darkness.

The spotlights were dark, of course – that had been the plan – but the shock wave had even snuffed the lamps. The burning smell of destruction lingered in the air. Julwei couldn’t see the carnage from where they stood, but she could imagine the smoldering crater and twisted metal.

Shouts echoed through the camp as the garrison rose to the threat. Soldiers hurried to relight their lanterns. Officers shouted orders their troops scrambled to obey. Calls for buckets of sand and water echoed through the depot.

A pair of large figures unlike any Julwei had seen before lumbered after the torrent of soldiers. She struggled to tell their shapes in the dark, but they were too tall to be human, too lean to be lizardfolk, and moved in the precise way clockwork machines do. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. A familiar feeling creeped down her spine.

Julwei patted her gun.

With the bulk of the garrison relocated from the tower, they moved in. Li parted from the group, blending in with the rest of the kingdom forces clearing debris from the explosions, while Magpie, Leth, and Julwei hopped the fence. The trio slinked toward the tower.

Pulling the folding axes from her belt, Magpie unfurled them in one fluid motion. She nodded to the others. Thumbing back the hammer of her rifle, Julwei returned the nod.

The wooden doorframe splintered as Magpie kicked it open and the broken door clattered to the tiled floor in darkness. A pair of soldiers stared at them with wide eyes. Magpie charged them. Fumbling for their weapons, they reacted too slow as she threw her weight against the tungsten man, tossing him aside. 

The other — a human — finally managed to unshoulder her rifle. A heartbeat later, one of Leth’s knives twirled through the air and sunk into her shoulder. Letting out a pained yelp, the soldier dropped her gun. Leth threw another knife that buried into her chest and she collapsed to the ground.

Magpie the tungsten man’s neck under arm and squeezed his windpipe with her bicep. He beat on her sides with his elbows but the ineffective hits slowed and slowed until his arms dropped limply to his sides.

Julwei swept the foyer. A few rooms sat on either side of the entry and a wide half-pace stairway rose into the darkness. At the end of the hall, the steel cage of a lift sat open. No one burst into the hall to rescue the guards. No shouts echoed through the darkness. The plan worked. The tower was clear.

The interior was far more ornate than the exterior implied. A polished tile floor stretched from the door to the staircase. In the center, they formed the crest of one of the kingdom’s many orders: a rifle and a hammer crossed over a blue shield. A chandelier with a dozen candles hung from ceiling.Several oil lamps flickered along the wall of the lower floor, though few had been relit.

Portraits lined the wall, each with a plaque denoting names and years of service, but the centerpiece was their target: Gale Orson. He wore the coat of a kingdom officer with the same emblem embroidered on the chest. Gold and white epoulettes decorated his shoulder. Steely grey eyes stared down at the trio. A tuft of brown hair folded neatly over his scalp. His thin nose stretched across his face like a rail across his barren cheeks only to stop at a thick brown mustache that suited a different face. A round chin met a round jaw..

“Think he’s at the top?” Julwei asked.

“Man like that, dear? Where else would he be?”

Julwei glanced at the lift. It was just as lifeless as when they entered the tower. She turned to Leth. They sighed and nodded.

The pair climbed the stairs.

Her legs burned before they had even climbed halfway up the stairs. Her lungs spasmed in her chest. Her jacket lay on the steps several storeys below and sweat stained through her shirt. Leth left theirs unbuttoned.

By the time they reached the final landing, their breath was louder than their footsteps. The floor creaked beneath them as they flanked the door and checked their weapons. Julwei turned to Leth, waiting for her count.

They stared at Julwei with a look she knew all too well. Their blue eyes softened. Their smiled changed. A subtle movement that traded confidence for sincerity.

“Not interested.”

“It is good to see you.”

Julwei grunted.

“Oh, don’t be so dour. I missed you. I know you feel the same.”

“What’s the angle, Leth?”

“Bah. You truly are impossible. Ready? Good.”

They gently pushed open the door with the barrel of their gun. The penthouse surveyed the entirety of the darkened compound through thin glass windows. An alternating pattern of desks and machinery lined the walls, interrupted by stacks of paper and the closed gates of the lift.

At a large desk in the center of the room, sitting in a ornate leather chair, was Gale Orson. He looked older than his portrait by a decade, with greying hair, sagging cheeks, and a mustache that still did not fit his face.

Next to him, a lean mekanica unlike any Julwei had seen before held a platter filled with ink and pens. Its gears whirred as it turned to look at them. A series of lenses like tinted glass eyes were divided unevenly on either side of its narrow face. The polished frame hid most of its clockwork guts, though the pistons and gears in its abdomen were exposed to the elements.

The mekanica whistled a low tune. It sounded like a threat.

“Well? Did you discover what happened or are you — Ah!” Gale looked up from his desk with wide eyes beneath tiny glasses. “You are not my men.”

“Smart one. I see why they put you in charge.”

“Who are you?”

“Friends. We have a mutual acquaintance.” Leth waited, but no realization dawned on Gale’s face. “Valkis.”

“How? Why?”

“You know why.”

“I… I don’t,” he stammered. “After everything, he would send his thugs after me?”

“We rate a bit higher than ‘thug.’”

“His goons.”

“That’s worse.”

“I thought I was done. I did it. I gave him everything he asked for.”

“Clearly not.”

“I could be court-martialed after what I did.” Gale’s face paled. He fell forward in his chair and caught himself on his desk. “They’ll execute me. Stupid. I was so stupid. Of course it wouldn’t end. He wants more, doesn’t he? After everything I’ve done, he wants more.”

“What did you do?” Julwei asked.

Gale looked up at her. His eyes were wet and read. With the slightest movement, he shook his head.

“Answer the question,” Leth demanded. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“No, no, I… Yes. Of course. Xanithar? Sil losan.”

Julwei translated his order a moment too late.

The platter hit her in the head and knocked Julwei onto her back. The rifle flew from her hand.

Leth turned their gun on the mekanica and fired. Twisting their gun to the next barrel, they fired another round, then another. Each bounced harmlessly off the mekanica’s plated chest.

Xanithar surged forward. It movements were fluid and agile. Flying over the desk, it closed the distance to Leth, making no attempt to dodge their gunfire. It threw a punch, arm snapping back and launching forward at blinding speed, but Leth jumped away. Before they could fire another shot, the mekanica spun on its foot, closing the distance again, and slammed its elbow into the bounty hunter.

Leth flew across the room. They landed hard against the wall. A rain of glass showered their shoulders.

Julwei scrambled to her feet, scanning the ground for the rifle, only to find it between Leth and the mekanica. Pulling it from her holster, she aimed the scattershot at the pair.

“How many rounds?”

“Four.” Leth fired again. “Three.”

The mekanica whirred as it grabbed Leth’s pistol and wrenched it from their hand. Xanithar examined it for a moment before tossing it aside. Leth didn’t wait. Pulling a pair of knives from their belt, they stabbed at Xanithar, driving the blades into the exposed gears. Sparks flew from the impact.

“A little help, dear?”

“Need a clear shot!”

Leth punched the mekanica with the butt of their knife, cracking one of the lenses, and tried to dart away. Xanithar caught their collar. With one arm, the mekanica threw them back. Leth tumbled across the floor, rolling head over heels until they landed at Julwei’s feet.

“Thanks.”

“Quiet you.”

The scattershot roared. The dim room briefly filled with a blinding light that left stars in her eyes. Burning gunpowder stung her nostrils. Beneath the ringing echo was the twinkling sound of falling glass.

A fist-sized hole punched through the mekanica’s shoulder. Smaller dents peppered the breastplate. Its right arm spasmed. Stumbling forth, Xanithar turned its head to Julwei. The lenses on its face twisted as though narrowing its eyes at her.

“Where’d you find that?” Leth asked. They gripped Julwei’s arm as they pulled themselves to their feet. Blood trickled from a cut on their scalp. A bruise swelled on their cheek. Yet their confident smile never faded. 

“On a job.”

“Not sure I’ve been so lucky.” They checked themself for weapons and, finding none, took a large knife from Julwei’s belt. “Think it’s had enough?”

A hiss of steam came from the mekanica as its forearms popped open. Ornate armored plates split apart and Xanithar’s hands folded back into its wrists only to be replaced by long, telescoping blades. It crossed one bladed arm across its chest and bowed like a fencer before a sporting duel.

“No.”

The empty shell from Julwei’s gun bounced across the floor. She rifled through her pockets for another, slamming it in, and pulled the hammer back. Before she could squeeze the trigger, the mekanica covered the distance between them. Julwei dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade that cut through the air, and ducked beneath the kick that followed. Leth charged the metal beast only for it to knock them aside with a single strike.

It moved like a cyclone as it stabbed after Julwei. She dodged and weaved and rolled away from its blades, backing away step by step, but never able to counter Xanithar’s movements. Even with one arm broken, the mekanica kept her on the defensive, chasing in a growing circle around the room until, at last, it swiped at her with the twitching arm.

The mekanica’s gears caught on its damaged frame. It paused for only a blink, but that was enough. Almost enough. Julwei swung her gun toward it only for the mekanica to knock it away — nearly out of her hand — and kick her in the chest.

Julwei flew backwards. The metal cage of the lift shaft rattled as she crashed into her. Her feet barely touched the floor again when the mekanica covered the gap. Dropping to her knees, she ducked its blade. Its arm carved through the metal where her head had been. The other swept the ground.

Julwei howled in pain as it sliced along the outside of her thigh. She fell to one side, and in desperation, she pushed herself away somewhere between a crawl and a stumble. Xanithar chased after her. Shard of wrought iron fell from the door as it pushed off the wall, swinging at Julwei’s head in a wide arc.

Julwei dropped to her stomach. The blade missed her neck by an eyelash.

“Oi!”

Julwei and Xanithar turned to Leth. They held Gale to their chest and pressed a knife against his neck. His grey eyes were wide. His lips quivered.

“Call off the hound, Orson.”

His first attempt to speak came out as gibberish. He got it on the second try.

The mekanica stared at him at length. Its body twitched. Its lenses twisted. Finally, Xanithar’s shoulders slumped forward. The blades folded back in on themselves and Xanithar’s hands returned with a chorus of hissing steam and scraping metal. It turned to face them, shoulders forward, right arm twitching.

Julwei shot it.

The scattershot burst through the mekanica’s chest. Its clockwork organs exploded out the other side. Xanithar stumbled backwards, teetering on the edge of the lift shaft. It clung to the broken cage. Sparks flashed from the damaged core.

Tossing their hostage aside, Leth threw Julwei’s knife. The blade spun through the air for an eternity before sinking into the machine. Its gears whirred for a moment, pushing against the blade, then shattered. Xanithar’s hands spasmed and the mekanica fell backwards into the elevator shaft.

A moment later, the sound of a crash echoed through the room.

Leth scooped their gun from the floor and peered into the pit with Julwei. The darkness obscured the damage, but sparks flashed around a messy pile of scrap. Leth looked to Julwei. Julwei looked to leth. They nodded.

Leth turned their gun on Gale. “Now then, tell us what you did.”

#Bounty #Gale Orson #Been a rough couple months #haven't really been able to work too much on the next parts #I have til July though #should be fine

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Gale Orson - Part I

Read Previous Arc Here

Story below. Also available on Wattpad or Reddit.

In all the kingdom’s history, no architecture on the mainland gained more prominence than the simple slat house. The war forced a lingering scarcity of metal and stone and only timber could be found in abundance.

The slat house was simple in its design. Long wooden studs cut from ancient trees enabled settlers to build large homes stretching multiple storeys with little effort. Smaller boards — the slats for which they were named — lined the walls inside and out. Engineers could hide pipes and wires in the walls and replace them with ease. Patterned siding protected the roofs from weather and paint protected the walls from dust. 

As the kingdom expanded from the coast, new towns sprung from the earth overnight.

New towns like Lankaa.

It had once been a promising city. A surge of refugees flooded east after the war, chasing the promise of abundant work. For a time, the kingdom delivered on its promise. Lankaa grew and grew as the kingdom conquered the river and the hills, stripping the forest until it was twigs and stumps.

Now the city was underpopulated and underworked. Irrelevant and dying.

Like many other lumber boomtowns, Lankaa succumbed to a blight. Magic from the dying forest cursed the city. Monsters rose from the earth faster than they could be killed. In a desperate attempt to save the town, the kingdom burst the dam. The city flooded. The monsters died. What trees remained of the forest rotted as they were cut. A responsible carpenter would have burned the blighted wood, but Lankaa used the planks like any other, not caring for sturdiness in its hasteful reconstruction.

That, Julwei reasoned, could be the only explanation for why she found herself falling through yet another roof.

The islander landed on the table with a grunt. The impact rippled through her body and forced the air from her lungs. Ignoring the pain, she rolled off the table and drew her gun as she backed out of reach of the three men. Strands of her coarse dark hair fell in her face.

The men all had a similar face. Pale. Northlander. A narrow nose divided sharp blue eyes and thin eyebrow. Varying shades of blond hair fell in waves from their scalps. One had a long gash stretching from his jaw to his eye. None seemed particularly concerned to see her, though the man with the scar pulled a knife.

Training her gun on the men, Julwei scanned the quaint room, searching for exits. Or an ambush. Her entrance flung bar and paper across the floor. Otherwise, the house was well tended. Floral wall cloth covered the room in vines and roses. Gas lamps bathed it in a warm glow. Below the window sat a dresser, topped with a lace doily and motionless clock. Behind the men was another room, this one dark and empty. Behind Julwei, stairs down to the street.

“Kaiser Endo?”

Two of the men turned to the other. He sighed. “Who are you?”

“Bounty hunter.”

“You’re outnumbered.”

“I like my odds.”

Kaiser’s eyes flicked to her gun. “That does look lethal. Most do though, don’t they? Who sent you?”

“Kingdom.”

He snorted. 

“That’s not who I expected. The kingdom sicced their hounds on me.” Kaiser studied Julwei as he spoke, but deciding her reaction was underwhelming, he sighed. “Well, pet, do they want me alive or dead?”

“I get paid more if you’re alive.”

“I would hate to cost you.” With a smile, he held out his wrists. “Put me in chains then. Take me away.”

Julwei gestured to the other two men. They inched forward during her conversation with Kaiser but readily backed a pace as she flicked her gun between them. They watched the exchange with nearly the same amusement as her bounty.

Kaiser glanced between her and his companions. He arched an eyebrow. “The bounty is for all three of us?”

“Just you.”

“Hear that boys? The hard work is finally rewarded. The kingdom calls me a threat.” He fixed his gaze on Julwei once more. “What’s the matter? I’m surrendering.”

“Weapons.”

“Jan put the knife away.”

The scarred man snorted his disagreement but he slipped the knife back into its sheath.

“Satisfied?”

Julwei pulled the cuffs from her belt. With one hand, she slapped them on Kaiser’s wrists, though she held her gaze on the other two, waving her gun at them every time they inched forward. The cuffs were loose on him but secure enough that she need not worry about him slipping away without breaking a bone.

Pulling the gun from the waistband of his pants, she tucked it into her own. Julwei backed away from her bounty’s companions. Every step was carefully measured and she held her gaze on them. Forcing Kaiser to follow could have been a struggle — his lanky build towered over her — but he made no attempt to resist. He followed her direction with some amusement.

The other two were markedly less content. They followed in step. Neither pulled any weapons but their hands hovered close to their belts.

Julwei prodded Kaiser with her gun. “Tell them to stay.”

“Oh, they won’t listen to me. You know how it is with brothers.”

“I don’t. Tell them to stay.”

With a heavy sigh, Kaiser complied. He nodded to Jan and the other, gesturing as best he could with shackles around his wrists. They both glared at Julwei but neither followed her as she led their brother away, guiding him down the stairs and out the door by yanking on his shirt.

The house sat on a hill near the outskirts of Lankaa. The setting sun painted the city’s flooded lowlands in a mural of orange and pink. Remnants of the city’s former glory broke the surface as shadows. Acting as a border between the dead and dying districts, one of the city’s many railways ran alongside the lake and over the hill, disappearing into the distance. Where it was dry, wide lanes divided the city into neat squares of dense wooden blocks. A few lights flickered in the darkening streets.

None as bright as Lankaa’s last remaining jewel.

Far in the distance, the rail depot shone like a beacon. A spire rose above the city, protected by large metal walls. The kingdom’s shipping lanes were well guarded — each depot was nearly a fortress — and equipped to handle people just as well as freight. Once she delivered Kaiser to someone of authority, she could leave the city and move on to her next bounty.

Gas lamps lit up infrequently as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned to black. An eerie silence took hold of the city's streets as they pushed into its heart. The few they did pass kept their distance. Some eyed the pair suspiciously, only moving on when they caught Julwei’s glare. Others furrowed their brows in indecision as if unable to decide which they despised more.

Julwei detoured to the narrow back roads and alleys. She could hardly keep any sense of direction between the rotting wooden homes and occasional stone foundations, but she hoped Kaiser’s brothers would struggle the same.

“I must know, pet, what is the bounty on me?”

“Two thousand bar.”

“T-two?”

“Yes. One thousand if you’re dead.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

The northlander turned and locked his eyes on Julwei. “Let me go now. I can give you two thousand.”

Julwei gestured toward the street. “Walk.”

“I’ll pay you more. Double.”

“Afraid it don’t work like that.”

“Why not? All you have to do is walk away.”

“Not happening.”

“You would seriously turn down four thousand bar? It costs you nothing.”

“You gonna offer that to every bounty hunter who comes your way?”

Kaiser laughed. “You have me there, pet. I guess I’ll kill the next one.”

“Sure.” She gestured again. “Walk.”

Julwei scanned the road and roofs as they walked. She saw no sign of Kaiser’s brothers, but the hairs on her neck stood on end and shadows danced around the lights. More than once she turned her gun on nothing at all.

Still, her fingers itched on the trigger.

“Two thousand bar,” Kaiser muttered. “That’s a pittance”

Not all shadows were harmless.

“You know you won’t collect your bounty, right?”

“Oh?”

“You should take my deal. I always keep my deals.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Why do this?” He gestured at Julwei with his limited range of motion. “Why work for the kingdom? What do you get out of this? You’ll never be anything more than a dog to them.”

“I prefer being on this side of the contract.”

Shaking his head, Kaiser tried and failed to suppress a laugh. He glanced to the night sky. Neither of the Dar moons had risen high enough to be seen between the slat roofs. Julwei followed his gaze. Another shadow disappeared out of view.

“If you release me, I could put in a good word with my employer. Goldscale’s hired bounty hunters before. I know we pay better than the kingdom.”

“Quiet,” Julwei hissed. Shoving her gun into his back, she pushed him into a narrow alleyway.

The shadow followed.

Julwei couldn’t see his face the darkness, but the shadow was clearly human. He stood tall with a gut that curved his waistcoat and a large cloak that flapped in the breeze. Pushing Kaiser to the ground, Julwei leveled her gun at the distant figure. The scattershot couldn’t hit him from this distance, but hopefully she wouldn’t need to pull the trigger. Lankaa might crumble from the sound alone.

“I told you to stay away,” she shouted at the figure.

Kaiser chuckled. “Like I said, my brothers won’t listen.”

Before the bounty hunter could reply, she heard a thud behind her — felt the vibrations travel along the street and run up her leg. Julwei stumbled as a strong hand gripped her wrist and wrenched her gun away. She drove her elbow back, aiming for her assailant’s groin, only to be caught by the massive hand of a lizardfolk. Twisting Julwei’s arm behind her back, the attacker shoved her into the wall. Splinters dug into her chest and stomach. She coughed from the dust in her lungs. Julwei struggled, but no matter how she twisted, she couldn’t break free of the lizardfolk’s grip.

“Sorry, Jules,” a familiar voice whispered.

Julwei growled. “Working for Goldscale now, Maggie?”

“Never.”

Easing her grip, the lizardfolk backed away, allowing Julwei to turn and brush the matchwood from her shirt. Magpie — Maggie to Julwei — was short for her kind, which still made her tower above the average human, with muscles to shame a winay. Her blue scales turned nearly white along her neck, arms, and tail. Radiant orange eyes shone like the sun beneath the tiny spurs that lined her brow.

Twin folding axes hung from her belt.

With a toothy grin, Magpie scooped Julwei’s gun from the ground. She admired it for a moment before returning it to the bounty hunter.

“Boss-man heard you were in town,” she said. Her voice was rough. “He wants to chat.”

“You can tell him to—”

“You can tell me yourself, Julwei.” The shadow man stepped into the twinkling light of the lantern and pushed Kaiser to the ground between them. Blood trickled from her bounty’s lips. “You nearly lost this.”

Valentine Valkis was a man well past his days of adventure, though not quite wizened, with a face that survived one too many fights. His nose permanently bent to one side. Grey hair thinned along his scalp. His eyes were green and tired. A well groomed mustache and beard framed his mouth and curled with his smug grin. Wrinkles ran in waves across his forehead.

“Why are you here?” Julwei asked.

Pulling a handkerchief from his coat, Val wiped the blood off his gloved hand. “Looking for you, my dear; is that not obvious? I’ve been worried you might be lost, but how fortunate our paths crossed. My little stray returned to me.”

“I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Val snapped. “You are in no position to ask questions, Julwei.”

“I can get you your money.”

“You will. There is no other option. I am kind waiting as long as I have.” He stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “But no, that is not why I’m here.”

“This seems like a family dispute,” Kaiser interrupted. “I’d hate to be in the middle of it. Set me free, and I’ll pay you what she would have made from my bounty.”

“Who is he?”

“One of Goldscale’s,” Julwei replied.

Val’s face reddened as he unleashed a deep rumbling laugh that bounced around the four of them. Each echo weakened Kaiser’s smile more and more until realization set in.

“No… no,” Val said when he could finally breathe. “He really is?”

Julwei nodded.

“This truly is a lucky night for me. Thank you, Julwei.”

“He’s my bounty. I’m not giving him up.”

Val’s face shifted in a blink. The mirth drained from him as he narrowed his eyes at her. “You are mistaken. He belongs to me now. If I want the bounty, then I will take it. Do not forget your place.”

She met his eyes. A challenge. His glare bore into her skull.

Her will faltered first. Julwei dropped her stare to Kaiser and bowed her head ever so slightly, but enough to concede. Val’s face softened.

“Do not fret, Julwei. I will return him to you. I only wish to ask him some questions and I will have plenty of time while you’re busy. After that, I don’t care if he ends up dead or in a cell.”

“While I’m busy?”

“Yes, of course. I have a job for you.”

<<>>

The street was filled with rotted wood and desperation, and Val’s hideout was no better. He led them to another slat house in the densest part of the city. The interior was little more than a dust rectangle. Heavy curtains blocked the broken windows. The roof fell to the floor in a pile of rubble long ago and gaps in the bare walls revealed broken pipes. A thick wire ran through the ground floor to the basement below. Half the steps were missing from the staircase, and Julwei worried the other half would collapse as she descended.

A lamp radiated heat and bathed the room in a warm glow. A row of beds in metal frames lined one wall of the basement, divided into rooms by makeshift folding screens. In one corner sat a set of rifles with enough gunpowder to level the block. An islander man sat at the table in the middle of the room, tinkering with some sort of mechanical contraption. He hardly glanced at them as they entered.

Kaiser was quiet now. His endless cycle of banter and begging fell on deaf ears. Shoving him into an empty chair, Magpie undid the shackle on one wrist and chained him to an exposed pipe. Blood still trickled from his puffed lip. He glared at her but made no attempt to resist.

Val whistled to the working man, motioning for him to clear the table, and led Julwei over. “Li, this is Julwei. She’ll be joining you.”

Li pushed his round glasses up on his nose. He methodically slid each tool back into its designated pocket of his leather roll-up pouch. Sweat glistened off his brow. Grease stained his blue uniform.

“Will I now?”

“Li Huhn is one of the engineers here. He’s your inside man on this job.”

Li stretched out his hand to shake. His black hair was cut short and the faintest hint of stubble graced his square jaw. If not for the kingdom insignia on his chest, he could have been attractive. His dark eyes met Julwei’s, then immediately focused on the ground.

“I don’t run anymore,” Julwei said. Li carefully withdrew his hand.

“No, no, nothing like that. I have need of your other talents.”

“I don’t tutor either. My work doesn’t take apprentices.”

“And I am not asking you to. Be quiet and let me explain.” Val fished a roll of paper from a bag on one of the beds, unfurled it, and pinned it to the table with a book on one end and a knife on the other. Julwei, Li, and Magpie stepped closer. A man’s face stared back at them. “This is Gale Orson. He works the shipping yard here in Lankaa. He is also an old friend of mine. We’ve been in business together for quite some time. Magpie, you may remember him.”

The lizardfolk nodded.

“A few months back, Gale found himself in a bad situation. I tried to help him, but he’s a stubborn git — insisted he could handle himself. The last few times I came around, Gale hasn’t answered his door. I’m worried for my friend, you see. I’d like you to do a wellness check.”

“A wellness check,” Julwei repeated. “Want us to make him a cup of tea while we’re at it?”

“If you could. Gale does owe me a small debt. If he has it, I would like you to collect.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Li asked.

“You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t need all of us. I can handle this.” Julwei glanced to Kaiser brooding in his chains. “Give me my bounty. I tell the guards I am delivering him to the kingdom, find Gale, find your bar, leave.”

“You believe I would trust you with an asset and the debt? I am not such a fool, Julwei.”

“You already trust me to find him.”

“No. I trust your aim.”

“It’s a simple job, Val. You don’t need three of us.”

“Four.”

“Four?”

“Yes, dear,” a voice purred from the darkness. “Four.”

Julwei narrowed her eyes as the fourth member of their team stepped out of the darkness. Their golden hair was ahved at the sides and they braided their mohawk so it fell to their shoulders. Their face was pale and sharp. Their chin came almost to a point. Dark blue eyes pierced through Julwei. Their shurt was cut low, revealing the tight fabric of a binder and lean abdomen. An array of knives hung in sheaths on their belt. Their custom pepperbox revolver sat in a holster under their shoulder.

It was a deadly weapon but Julwei knew Leth was just as dangerous without it.

A faint smile graced their lips as they stalked across the room. Unburdening their arms of stolen kingdom uniforms, they eyed Julwei. “You look well.”

“Leth.” The name became a growl as it left Julwei’s throat.

“Good. It seems no introduction is required.” Val rifled through the uniforms. “You brought three?”

“I had a feeling. Magpie, you may have a tight fit. Not many lizards in blue.”

The lizardfolk shrugged.

“I work best alone,” Julwei muttered.

“Don’t tell me you’re still upset, bounty hunter.” Leth’s tone fell barely short of condescending. “It was nothing personal.”

“You shot me.”

“Oh, that? Hardly. If I meant to kill you, dear, you would be dead.”

Julwei went for her sidearm. Leth went for theirs. Before either could reach the grip of their gun, Magpie was between them, her massive hands gripping their shoulders. Her claws dug into Julwei’s flesh.

With a heavy sigh, Val looked between the pair of them. “You can work alone once you pay me what you owe. You should consider yourself lucky I am giving you work at all. Are you going to cause a problem?”

“I’ve always been good at keeping Julwei on a leash,” Leth said with a coy smile. They held their gaze on her. “I don’t suspect she’ll be any more trouble.”

“You still haven’t mentioned why you need all of us,” Julwei said.

“I assumed it was clear. Gale is no ordinary warehouse worker. He is an officer in one of the kingdom’s more secretive orders. He will be protected.”

“You want us to hunt an officer?”

“Yes. I do. Leth will fill you in on the plan.” Val checked his pocket watch, then turned to them. “You best be going. Try to be back by dawn. Leth, the team is yours.”

#Bounty #Gale Orson #I am currently working on part 4 of this and I am excited about some ideas

[actualfarless]

Roommates

A teen hero and a teen villain, who have been fighting each other all throughout high school, decide to be roommates in college.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

The hairs on the back of Clara’s neck stood as the icy draft ran down her spine. She recognized the feeling, knew what it meant, but still hesitated. She first felt it four years ago when her parents moved her to the middle of Kansas. Every day for four years, the same feeling creeping down her back. The same sinister cold.

Ice Queen.

Clara glanced around the room. A couple fellow prospectives shivered, pulling out their jackets, but most hadn’t noticed. Good. That meant she was weak right now. It could be an easy fight.

“Hey, uh, could you hold my spot?” Clara asked the girl behind her, straining a sweet smile. “I, uh, gotta pee real bad.”

“No?”

“Great, thanks,” Clara said, ignoring her and dumping her backpack in the girl’s hands. She raced out of the room. The faint sound of a backpack being dropped followed her out.

The atrium was large, open, and, unfortunately, not empty. Water trickled down a fancy feature. Plants, only some of which were fake, were placed at specific points for maximum aesthetic. It was designed for posters, like the set of a movie, and not for a quick costume change. Worse still, there was no signage.

However, there was a guy at the reception desk. He was on his phone, ignoring the frost creeping over the desk. She’d been here too.

“Hey, hey, um, hi!” Clara’s enthusiasm hopefully did not sound as forced as it was. It was important that she remain friendly just in case he was somehow related to the dean.

With a heavy sigh, followed by a long pause, the guy slowly moved his eyes from his phone to Clara. “What?”

A lick of flame flickered in her hand, but Clara maintained her sweet smile. “Bathroom?”

Another sigh. Eyes to phone. Another lengthy pause. Eyes down one of the hallways. The receptionist nodded his head slightly. “That way.”

“Great, thank you. I’m Clara, by the way. I’ll be a freshman next year.”

“Whatever.”

Clara sprinted down the hall, sliding into an empty stall in the bathroom. Frost covered the mirrors. A chunk of ice floated in one of the toilets. Ice Queen had definitely been here.

Clara growled. Of course. Clara had known about her powers all her life, but until her family moved to Kansas, she thought she was the only one. But on the first day of high school, late in August, Independence suffered an out of season snowstorm. The day had been warm and sunny until lunch. It was sudden. It was cold.

It was Ice Queen.

Clara and Ice Queen were obvious rivals. Two girls with mirrored powers in a small midwestern town. Both took care to keep their identities secret and, though they fought at least once a week, they kept the city largely intact.

Except for graduation. The high school had seen more than its fair share of brawls, to the point Clara was convinced her rival was a fellow student, but Clara always kept her powers in check. Until Ice Queen crashed her graduation. She hadn’t listened to the speech. Clara was angry. Then she was on fire. Then the gym was on fire.

It had been their last fight. Clara had hoped it would be forever. She wasn’t just moving to Vermont for the education. It was a chance to get away from Ice Queen. And from the articles. The newspaper turned on her quick.

Clara could feel the heat rising in her palm again. She was trying to start a new life and, of course, Ice Queen was trying to destroy it. Clara wouldn’t let her.

Fishing her mask from the pocket of her discarded jeans, Clara quickly tied it to her face, transforming once more into Heatwave. Unfortunately, Heatwave’s original costume burned in the gym fire, so the new and improved college Heatwave wore leggings and a tank top.

She made it work.

Heatwave slipped out of the bathroom, following the frosted steps down the hall. Ice Queen had always been easy to track. Except in the dead of winter.

The frost turned to ice as Heatwave left the atrium. Her steps left puddles in the pavement as she followed the path, winding around the student center to a little garden behind it. Most of the school was out for the summer and none of the students who remained seemed to care about the masked girl who followed the trail of increasing winter weather.

A trail that led to a blonde girl in a leather jacket.

She sat on a bench, head down, surrounded by a thick layer of clear ice, which coated the trees and bushes, creating a frozen sculpture. The cold was oppressive. Even with her powers, Heatwave regretted the choice of outfit.

“Ice Queen,” Heatwave said, placing her hands on her hips in a confident pose. It helped her keep her fire in check. She couldn’t afford to burn down part of her school before her senior year.

The blonde girl turned with wide wet eyes. Her face was wet from… from frost obviously. Heatwave studied her maskless face, memorizing every detail. She had spent four years fighting Ice Queen and had never seen the freckles on her face. Or noticed that her eyes were brown. Everything about her was off, but she looked familiar.

“Heatwave?” Her voice was quiet. Almost timid. It lacked Ice Queen’s usual cadence.

Heatwave felt the fire in her palm die out. The warm feeling of embarrassment replaced it on her cheeks. “You, uh, haha, you are Ice Queen, right?”

The girl played with the band in her ear and chewed her lip. Slowly, very slowly, she pulled a blue mask from the inside of her jacket. Ice Queen nodded.

“What? You thought you could follow me here and ruin college like you ruined high school?” Heatwave felt the fire build again. Rage and embarrassment had similar heats. It was easy to turn that to flame. “You followed me out here? I should have ended you at my graduation.”

Ice Queen’s brown eyes (brown?) narrowed. The temperature dropped drastically. “It was my graduation too!”

“I- what?”

“Yeah.” Ice Queen crossed her arms. “Do you know how hard it is to be fourteen and called a villain by everyone? Ice Queen? White Witch? Cold-hearted bitch? How isolating it is? My parents kicked me out of the house when they learned who I was. I was homeless our entire senior year.

“I didn’t have friends, Heatwave. Nobody liked me before I got my powers, and nobody liked me after. I wanted to be a hero.” A thick snow covered the ground and the fountain turned to ice. Solid ice. “I wanted someone - anyone - to just treat me like a person for once in my life. I could have been a hero. Then you ruined it.”

Heatwave wrapped her arms tight around herself. Even with the waves of heat that gave her the name, the cold seeped against her skin. “I ruined it? I just wanted a normal life, Ice Queen, but I had to save Kansas from you all the time. You created snowstorms in the middle of summer!”

Ice Queen’s eyes softened. She glanced down, offering Heatwave the perfect chance to strike. Even though the fire would struggle in the cold, she could throw a punch, set Ice Queen off just enough to end the fight before it started. She’d done it before.

Instead, Heatwave held her ground. She’d never seen Ice Queen without her mask. Never seen her so vulnerable. It would be unheroic to attack an unprepared opponent.

“I have trouble controlling my powers,” Ice Queen admitted. “My first day of high school, I had just moved to Independence that week. I didn’t know anyone and no one wanted to know me. I hadn’t done anything yet, but I was already the freak. The only person I thought I could relate to rejected me. I tried to hold it in, but I couldn’t. That was the day you showed up. I needed support. I needed someone to care about me. Instead, I was the villain.”

Ice Queen’s eyes welled with tears, which froze on her cheeks. Heatwave had seen her low before, usually before she scampered away after losing another battle. But she had never been this. A pang of guilt shot through Heatwave. Realization settled in.

It settled in hard.

Slowly, Heatwave reached back on the mask, pulling loose the knot. She looked at the crying villain with her face exposed, finally meeting a vulnerability with one of her own. She offered a small smile with trembling lips. “Heather.”

The blonde girl stared at her for a moment, taking in Clara’s exposed face. In four years of quips and fighting, the two had never exposed their identities. Secrets were vital in their work.

And now they had none.

“You’re Heatwave?”

“Yeah, I, uh… yeah.” Clara nodded. She created a small flame in her hands, trying to warm the air around her. The cold was less oppressive, but still, well, cold. “Heather, I… I don’t even know how to say it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m got accepted. I’m, um, going to study film.”

“Film? Here?”

“Yeah, ha ha. I didn’t get into USC. This had the best program of the places I got in.” Clara offered an awkward grin. “Also Independence hates me now because I burned down the gym.”

“Oh.” Heather returned the grin with the same exact amount of awkwardness. “I chose it cause it’s cold up here. Most of the time at least.”

“You’re, uh, really not here because of me?”

“Nope. That’s a little self-obsessed, though, right?”

Clara laughed. A real legitimate laugh. “I was on the cover of TIME. It was a really blurry photo, but still.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Heather, look, I’m sorry. It’s, uh, really unfair how you were treated. I had no clue who you were or why we fought. I was a kid and I let all the dumb superhero stuff get to me.” Clara took a deep breath. She rocked back and forth on her feet, arms swinging awkwardly at her sides. “Which, uh, - God, sorry, I’m bad at this - doesn’t excuse how I treated you out of costume. I should have been nicer. Not just that first day. Every day.”

The cold lessened slightly. Heather glanced back at the ground. “Thanks.”

The pair were silence long enough for the plants to thaw. The soothing sound of the fountain returned and the air quickly turned humid. Clara sat next to Heather on the bench, tossing her mask aside and patting her rival on the leg.

“We’re both really going to school here?”

“Looks like.”

“So, uh, why aren’t your eyes blue?”

“I started wearing contacts when I could feel the cold building. It helped me cope. Usually.”

“Oh.” Clara let the silence linger for a moment, fighting back against the terrible idea forming in her mind. “You got a roommate for next year?”

“No.”

“Do you, uh, wanna be roommates?”

Heather offered a confused stare. “We tried to kill each each other all through high school.”

“Yeah.” Clara laughed awkwardly. “We did. But, you know, next year is a chance to start over. It’s college. We’ll be new people. So, uh, what do you think? Roommates?”

“Roommates.”

#short story #roommates #and they were roommates! #oh my god they were roommates #heatwave #ice queen #another pair of characters I had more ideas about #except this time I actually did expand #i should find that story #it wouldn't survive tumblr's formatting though #fyi #they are definitely gay for each other #in the extended universe that i have not written #that universe also kinda changes the reveal #god damn it i need to write more instead of being sad all the time

[actualfarless]

The Man In The North

In a fantasy world full of magic, you are the last robot, a relic from the old world, before mankind discovered magic, before they used it to blast themselves back to the stone age. You try to avoid humans, staying in the far north, but a man has come to your home, a strange man.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

It would’ve been cold, if I could feel. Logically, I knew it was. At night, in the swirling snow, the temperatures dipped to levels that no living creatures could survive. The few artic animals that survived the devastation had changed, adapting to the new world. They were dangerous beasts and nomadic by nature, but they stayed away from my hut. Whether because I smelled too much like the old world or because there was no food here, it didn’t matter. I was safe. I was isolated.

So the knock on my door came as a surprise.

The man looked unwell. His tired eyes hardly looked surprised as he stumbled into the hut, collapsing on my floor in a frost-covered heap. He was young, though his frail frame and unkempt added years to his face. Before I could ask a single question, the man was out. Only some muttered nonsense escaped his lips. Dead or unconscious, I couldn’t tell. All I could do was wait.

So I waited.

Night was long in the arctic winter and the days were fast approaching when there would be no day at all, but the man did not rise until after the sun. When he did, he calmly looked around, as though confirming his memories, and settled his eyes on me. They were cold and blue and had flakes of silver that I learned to recognize long ago. My creators called it the gift. Their successors called it divinity. Years of history and fiction called it what it was.

Magic.

“Do you have anything to eat?” the man asked. There was an unnatural roughness in his voice.

I nodded. The food I had was nearly expired, but I correctly assumed a man in his situation wouldn’t care. He ripped open the packets - instant meals designed for the old world military - shoveling the goop down his throat. Each was meant to feed a man his entire day’s rations. He would regret the amount he ate, but I was in no position to tell him that.

Satisfied half way through the third packet, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, failing to remove the grey matter that stuck to his beard. He moved to the nearest shelf and ran his fingers along the covers. My hut would have barely covered a room in a library in the old world, but after the devastation, it remained the single greatest collection of knowledge.

I watched him carefully. The new age of humanity had their own libraries and their own knowledge, but what I protected was, for lack of a better word, sacred. Too many times humans destroyed what they didn’t understand or what they didn’t want others to understand. The books, discs, and files were the last remnants of my creators. I would not let them be lost.

“You can read these?” he asked. “Can you teach me?”

“Jekund.”

The words that came me were as much a surprise to me as they were to him. I realized then that the words he spoke was not actually what I heard, but what my linguistic interpreter translated for me. Some words were new to his language. Some were passed down by whatever remnants of humanity survived.

Over a week, I learned more about the man, Sean, and he learned more about my creators and their predecessors. The conversations were light or focused. Each offered more data for my interpreter, slowly filling the library with my knowledge. He was fascinated by the way I exported the data to the storage I hid in the arctic. To my surprise, he was a natural with my creator’s technology and we quickly moved from physical books to stored papers. Whether he truly understood everything he read, I couldn’t guess, but he read as much as he could. Every waking hour was spent learning from each other. When it became too much and his mind slowed, he slept a few hours on the floor. I had no bed and no furniture not used for storage, but Sean didn’t care. He was fine with the floor.

I had no need of sleep. Instead I spent that time analyzing what I learned from him. The world below was far different than before. Even accounting for hyperbole, landscapes were drastically changed, with mountains in places they could never exist and valleys where mountains once war. There were talks of shapers - what Sean’s people called those with the gift - that could control weather. At times, he briefly mentioned his own powers. He would not have made it to my hut without without them.

But over the week, a single question hung on the tip of my proverbial tongue. In my analysis of human behavior, I realized that there would be no appropriate time to ask him, but to my luck, he answered it. 

Even with magic and a new start, humans were still human. Sean’s people had been forced from their homes many times, and though they were protected by a raging storm in the valley that once was the Sierra Nevada, the winds were fading. Other shapers were cracking at the spell.

“Why head north?” I asked. “Why alone?”

“Another went south. Another east. Another west.” Sean held his hands over the fire. The cold seeped through the walls of my hut, but with a clever application of architecture and magic I got to witness firsthand, we corrected the problem without jeopardizing the sacred documents. “We did not know what we would find, but if we do not have a weapon, my people will die.”

“Then why stay here? I do not have a weapon for you.”

“Do you not?”

“I can only preserve knowledge. I lived through the events that created your world. I saw the power of destruction. There is no weapon here.”

Sean shook his head. He retrieved the laptop from where he had stowed. “This is a weapon. My people cannot read what’s written here. Neither can the enemy. But I can. There is a story my mother told me. A story about a boy who must fight a monster. This monster is stronger and faster than the boy and he would be foolish to fight it head on. His friends tell him that he must get stronger. But even the strongest man is no match for this beast. His parents tell him to run away. But if he does, then another will die in his place. What is the boy to do but learn all he can? He hopes to uncover the monster’s weakness, but the books have nothing. He hopes to discover some weapon, but the books have nothing.”

“What happens then?”

“In the story, the boy dies. It is not a happy story.” Sean smiled and scratched at his greying beard. “I am lucky I am not the boy. My friend, I have found both a weapon and my enemy’s weakness. Unlike  the boy, I will live.”

“Oh.”

We passed the night reviewing more books until Sean succumbed to sleep, and I watched the embers burn. I debated with myself as to whether I should have kept a weapon or not, and found the data to be inconclusive. Either way, the results would be unknowable unless Sean returned to me after his people were saved or lost. By that point, it would be too late.

In the morning, Sean decided that he had learned enough and would return home. With my permission, Sean stuffed the packets of food goop in a backpack, with the laptop and some books with which I felt comfortable parting. We stood by the door to my hut, and though it was through a well-designed program, I was sad to see him go.

“My friend, I did not tell you why the boy died. A wise old man told him that he could save the boy, but all he asked for in return was a gift. The boy did not believe the man, so the boy gave him nothing.” The flakes in his eyes glew ever so slightly, a sure sign of magic. “You have given me many gifts and you have asked for nothing, so I fear this is not a prophetic parable. Still, I would find it rude if I gave you nothing in return.”

Sean gently placed his hand on my chest. The silver in his blue eyes pulsed once, and then they returned to normal. With a nod, Sean stepped into the cold winter, heading south to save his people. I watched him fade into the foggy white, hoping I would see him again, though I knew I wouldn’t. I liked to imagine that he saved his people and spread the knowledge I gave him, finding a balance between the destructive power of magic and curative science. 

When the cold became too much to bear, I stepped into the warmth of my hut and huddled close against the fire.

#short story #the man in the north #I will defend my use of glew

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Seros - Part III

Read Part II Here

Story below. Also available on Reddit or Wattpad.

Julwei followed Inquisitor Jyn down the cramped streets of Bar Tannis. The serenade of idle conversation filled the air. The thud of heavy boots marked every step. Seawater spilled over the sides of the wooden walkways. At points, the streets were so narrow that Julwei could stretch her arms and brush a wall on either side. Lizardfolk, mekanica, and anyone taller than the average sabali mainlander had to duck to pass some bridges, though Julwei and the inquisitor cleared with room to spare.

The crowds parted for the pair of them. Julwei was all too aware of the heads that followed, the way they narrowed their eyes and their mouths turned to a slight frown. Julwei rested her hand on her gun, ready for the crowd to turn, but the inquisitor seemed not to notice at all.

The streets widened as they approached the old city. Wooden walkways turned to paved stone streets. Weeds grew in the cracks. Small gardens capped large houses, staggered to allow for uninterrupted views of the sea and town below. Intermittent lampposts with ornate designs dotted the streets. Kingdom flags waved from flagpoles. Even the constant fog that encased the city thinned, offering a view of the clear blue sky above, though it was not long until Inquisitor Jyn led Julwei down the winding path back to the other coast.

They walked in silence. The shallow well of conversation dried long before they left The Joy.

Large metal vessels cast a shadow over docks. Unlike the transportation center, the northern shipyard was reserved for the kingdom’s fleet, or any company ship able to pay, though it was no less crowded. Groups of soldiers loitered in clumps of blue, sure to straighten their shoulders as the inquisitor walked by. Relief spread across their faces when she walked past without a word. Engineers tended to the ships in distress. Julwei feared the inquisitor would force her onto another ship, away from her passage to Mian, though her fears were quickly quelled when the inquisitor stopped outside a warehouse.

Half of the building stood on struts over waist deep water, where a pair of heavy framed mekanica stood, cleaning barnacles off the side. A group of men lowered crates into rowboats. Painted on the side of the warehouse was the faded red logo of the WMS trading company.

A boy no older than twelve watched the pair approach. He slipped away before Julwei or the inquisitor could say a word, his shaggy blond hair disappearing through the wide warehouse doors. A moment later, a barrel chested man appeared, scratching his beard. He eyed the inquisitor, then Julwei, eyes flicking to the weapons on their hips. He slid the door closed.

“Yeah?”

“You are Mr. Nuim, yes? The foreman here?”

“Barry.”

“Well, Barry, I am Inquisitor Karina Jyn. This is my companion, Julwei.”

“We’re closed today.”

“We are not buying.”

“Huh.” Barry crossed his arms. “P.A. cleared this shipment already.”

“I’m only asking questions.”

“No offense, Inquisitor, but I don’t have the time. I’m a week behind shipments. Half my crew’s out, and we’re down a mek. Whatever you need, P.A.’s got all the paperwork. We’re current. We’re legal. Not sure how you think I can help.”

“You misunderstand. I think I can help you.”

Barry scratched his chin again. He mumbled to himself for a moment then nodded. “How?”

“I’ve heard about the disappearances here. I want to stop whatever beast is causing it.” Inquisitor Jyn smiled at him warmly. “I also know a thing or two about mekanica. I’m no engineer, but I’d be happy to take a look.”

“Alright, alright. One moment.” Barry slipped back inside the warehouse, sliding the large metal door shut behind him. A high pitch whistle cut through the fog of noise.

“Why ask?” Julwei whispered.

“Hm?”

“You could just walk in. He couldn’t stop you.”

“I could. Maybe I would even find whatever he is hiding. But I suspect I already know. If I’m right, I don’t care.” Inquisitor Jyn met Julwei’s eyes. Only the faintest hint of emotion crossed her face. “I want the kingdom safe for all.”

Barry stuck his head out from the warehouse. Eying Julwei, he sized her up the same as she did him, gauging if she was a threat.

“She an inquisitor too?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then she stays outside.”

“Fine with me,” Julwei replied.

The bounty hunter leaned on an empty crate and rolled the stress from her shoulders. The aches from her fight with Seros faded during the long journey but they were replaced by the stiffness of cramped quarters. Closing her eyes, Julwei listened to the noise of the city. A stampede of footsteps. Muffled conversation. The rhythmic clank of mekanica. Gentle waves lapped at the shoreline. A calming presence in the midst of chaos.

Julwei concentrated on the water. With a few deep breaths, she let the noise of the city fade away until only the changing tide remained.

The shift in the ether was subtle. A shiver ran down her spine. The hairs on her neck stood on end.

Julwei spun, her gun appearing in her hand, turning to face a mop of blond hair and wide blue eyes. The boy stood still, frozen mid-step. A stunned frown took his face. His gaze was locked to the gun.

“Sorry,” Julwei muttered as she slipped the scattershot pistol back into its holster.

The boy released a breath. “Didja hear me?”

“Sure.”

Julwei watched the boy settle against a crate. He mimicked her stance, crossing his arms and attempting a scowl.

“Are you a soldier?”

“No.”

“Mekker?”

“No, no. I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Is Pa in trouble?”

“He the foreman?”

“Lo.”

“No. Inquisitor Jyn has a few questions is all.”

“Pa says I’m not supposed to talk to inquisitors.”

“Your pa’s a smart man. Is that why you ran earlier?”

The boy nodded.

“Runnin’s good. Might not be enough some day. Hope your pa knows that.”

“Oh.” The boy was quiet for a moment, long enough for Julwei to question her words, but not long enough for her to find new ones. “What kinda questions?”

"Inquisitor business."

"You're hunting the monster."

Julwei eyed the boy. She nodded.

“Have you killed any before?”

“Depends what you call a monster.”

“I saw it once.”

“Did you?”

“Lo. He only comes out at night so we snuck out and the lights were out but I could still see him. Nobody believes me but I know I did. He was in the water and he didn’t see me but I saw him.”

Julwei studied the boy’s face. He was determined to convince Julwei of his story. There was no tremble in his voice nor quiver of his lip. No fear born from the monster. 

“Where?”

The boy glanced around the warehouse loading area and leaned in close. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Promise you won’t tell Pa?”

Resisting the smile spreading across her lips, Julwei nodded.

“The floats. Pa says I shouldn’t go there, but… can you really stop him?”

“Sure.”

The warehouse door slid open once more as Barry shuttled Inquisitor Jyn out. The pair shook hands, a strained smile on the man’s face. Turning to the boy, Julwei found him absent, no trace of his blond hair or freckles hidden between the crates.

“That was useless,” the inquisitor hissed after Barry slipped back inside.

“Didn’t learn anything?”

“Nothing new. Mr. Nuim isn't convinced there really is a kerye. People disappearing from Bar Tannis is nothing new." Inquisitor Jyn flexed her fingers. "I nearly burned my hand trying to fix that mekanica. Beyond my skills. Did you, Bounty Hunter?”

“Did I?”

“Did you learn anything?”

“The boy said he saw it on the floats.” Julwei eyed the inquisitor. Her face was unreadable. “You knew he would talk to me?”

“I hoped. Anything else?”

“He said it only comes out at night.”

“Good!” The inquisitor clapped her hands together. She craned her neck to look at the sky. Rays of afternoon sunlight barely broke through the layers of smog. Inquisitor Jyn’s scars folded into her dimples as she smiled. “I suppose then we have no rush. Tea?”

Though much of Bar Tannis was built over water, the floats were distinct. The district fit its epithet well. It sat far from the city’s major ports, away from most of the kingdom’s traffic, but a few vessels — those unwilling or unable to pay the port authority — still anchored in the sea nearby. It was built on a graveyard of ships. The desperate transformed the decommissioned vessels and floating docks into shelters and crowded as many as could fit onto each deck. Those lucky enough to have doors barricaded themselves, suspicious of their neighbors. Poverty plagued Bar Tannis and the floats were its quarantine.

Ropes tied the floats together. Heavy metal chains kept it from drifting into the sea. Half rotted bridges served as walkways. Someone — certainly not the kingdom — rigged a functional power grid through the floats. The hum of electricity followed Julwei in flayed wires and flickering lanterns. She watched the water. Lights danced on the surface, shimmering in ripples, but did not penetrate the inky blackness below.

Whatever lurked in the depths, if anything at all, remained hidden.

Inquisitor Jyn followed her path above and at a distance, walking in a zigzag pattern across the bridges that connected the upper decks. Her hand rested on her blades. Her thumb ran along the twine that wrapped around the hilt. If she had any reservations, any fears over the supposed monster they were hunting, she didn’t show it. The inquisitor looked calm — bored even.

At points they would stop and ask one another if the other had seen anything. Each would say no in turn and carry on.

The paths were empty. No lovers walked beneath the lantern light. No drunks or armed guards patrolled the walkways. Not even a mekanica. The only signs of life came when Julwei crossed through a ship that survived the war but not peace. She stepped through the hole in the hull and scanned the crowd. She found no monsters in the darkness. Only guns and worried faces.

Yet every time she turned away from the water, she felt the eyes watching her.

On their fifth pass — or perhaps sixth — before Julwei could suggest the rumours really were nothing more, the inquisitor called her over, directing focus to a beam. It was like many others, thick wood weathered by the sea, supporting a crudely constructed shop. Almost identical to the countless other unremarkable features she ignored.

Almost identical.

“Do you see it?”

Julwei barely could in the glimmering light, but she nodded. Three slashes cut deep into the beam. Behind them, a hole punctured the wood. An identical mark gouged the beam nearby. Julwei could almost trace the shape of the beast’s paw.

“I’ve seen a few marks like that,” she said.

“I have as well. But these weren’t here before. These are new, I’m sure of it. I’d say we found our beastie.”

“Hm.”

“You disagree, Bounty Hunter?”

“We haven’t found anything. Feels more like we’re being hunted.”

“And what would you do in that situation?”

“Leave.”

“We can’t do that.”

Julwei sighed. “I know. You reckon we could set a trap for it?”

“This is no ordinary kerye, but that may work. You do realize what you are suggesting, no?”

“Think it’s smart enough to recognize a gun?”

“I would say that’s unlikely.”

“Then I’ll be fine.”

They found a spot between twin barges where the walkways were wide and close to the water. The residents built expansions in the form of layered shops along the hulls of the ships, forming what could have been a normal street, if not for the exposed wires and menacing silhouettes of neighboring vessels.

Julwei watched the water. The lights still shimmered on the surface. The darkness below was still impenetrable. And she still felt the eyes watching her. She knew the trap was a bad idea. Chasing monsters was dangerous enough. She  was inviting it to feast.

Julwei knew the trap was a bad idea. But it worked.

She felt the monster before she saw it. The cold seeped into her bones. The familiar chill warned of danger. It wore the ether as a shroud. Like the inquisitor. Like the boy. Like countless others she had met. The beast was born of witchcraft. It was a monster fit for an inquisitor.

The kerye was larger than she expected. Its body was long and round, like an overgrown fish with legs, with rubbery skin that glistened beneath the lights. Though it hardly had a neck, it craned its head to look at her. Its thick legs ended in sharp talons, flaps of skin connecting each toe at the knuckle.

Julwei stood her ground as the kerye uncurled its finned tail from the column. It dropped from its perch like a stone but landed on the walkway in silence. The kerye snarled. Rows of jagged teeth filled its mouth.

The trap was a terrible idea.

Scurrying backwards, Julwei pulled the trigger of her gun and the gentle soundscape of the floats disappeared beneath the eruption of gunpowder. Splinters exploded into the air. The cloud of dust dissipated as the echo of her gun faded into a monotone ring.

The beast still stood.

She had not adjusted to the kick of Seros’ gun. She hadn’t taken the time to aim. But Julwei knew the damage the scattershot could do. The beast was close and large. She could not miss. She did not miss.

Yet the beast stood.

No blood leaked from between its scales. No wounds appeared on its flank. The kerye snarled once more. Its long, thin whiskers vibrated with intensity, now standing out and straight. Four black eyes narrowed as hunger shifted into anger.

Julwei thumbed the release and pressed the barrel of the gun against her leg until the back cracked open and the shell ejected, landing in the water. For a moment, she thought she might get the chance to load another round into the gun. But luck could never be trusted.

The kerye charged. Despite its bulk, despite the long talons that cut through the wood, it made almost no sound as it charged across the platform. The planks didn’t creak under its weight. The floor didn’t shudder with its steps.

Julwei ran. Cutting and angle she hoped would be hard to follow, she raced for the alley — the cage of their trap. The beast’s talons missed her by a hair. It tumbled away, nearly clamming into a pillar, cutting long gashes in the floors as it attempted to recover. The kerye whipped its tail to one side and, before Julwei even entered the alley, it found its feet and charged again.

Digging through her satchel, Julwei yanked free a handful of shells, shoving one in her gun and dropping another. Her heart pounded in her chest. She didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. The alley was narrow, the path unstable, but the kerye didn’t struggle. She could feel it behind her, closing the distance step by step.

Still it made no noise.

The inquisitor did.

She roared as she dropped from above, a sword in either hand, plunging down on the beast. Inquisitor Jyn was a silhouette against the sky. She landed the very model of an inquisitor — striking and terrifying and captivating. Julwei stared. For a moment, she forgot the monster on her trail.

The kerye was not so awestruck.

It sank into the floor, into the water below, and disappeared beneath the floats. A heartbeat later, the inquisitor’s blades stabbed through the wood where it stood. Inquisitor Jyn raised to her feet. She yanked her weapons free and stared at the spot where the kerye disappeared, gently tapping it to confirm for herself and the world that the wood was still solid.

“Did you know it could do that?” Julwei asked.

“No.”

“You said it was unusual for a kerye.”

“Good news. That’s not a kerye.”

“What is it?”

“Ah!” Inquisitor Jyn scrunched her face. “I… I don’t know.”

“Can we kill it?”

“If we can find it, Bounty Hunter. We will find a way.” Inquisitor Jyn spun the sword in her left hand, holding it now by the blade, and offered it to Julwei. “You’ll want this.”

“I prefer a gun.”

“I heard the shot. Did you wound it at all? I imagine you didn’t. You feel it too, don’t you? This monster comes from the ether. It slips through the veil easily. Your gun is useless. Take the sword.”

Julwei could find no words to describe the power in the inquisitor’s saber. It was unlike any weapon she held before. The blade hummed in her hand, as though resisting Julwei’s grip, rejecting her control over it. The sword hated her. A witch-killing tool in the hands of a witch. 

Julwei held it out, pointing the tip as far from her body as she could. The blade had a slight curve, hardly noticeable until it was in her hands. The inner edge was blunt and met the sharp edge in a point. It was light and well balanced. 

The inquisitor tapped Julwei’s sword with her own, directing the blade downward. “Try not to cut me. Come. We have a monster to catch.”

Julwei followed Inquisitor Jyn back out of the alley. She seemed confident in her ability to find the beast again and whatever doubts Julwei had were quickly vanquished.

The monster was waiting for them.

It stood on the edge of the walkway. The beast’s tail brushed the surface of the water without so much as a ripple. Its whiskers hung limply from its snout. Snarling, it watched the pair as they left the alley.

The beast held a thick black cable in its jaws. All four eyes settled on Julwei

Darting forward, the inquisitor charged the beast. She managed only a single step before the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the platform. The inquisitor’s roar echoed around them. Julwei heard the inquisitor swing and curse. Then she heard the inquisitor yell.

“Left!”

Julwei threw herself left. She felt the not-kerye’s coarse whiskers brush her arm. A trail of something wet soaked her blouse — drool or slime or blood. It was too thick to be water. She landed on her satchel, grunting as the contents dug into her side. Finding her feet, Julwei spun, carving the air around her with the inquisitor’s blade. She drew no blood from the beast.

Julwei squinted in the darkness. The monster disappeared in shadow but sparks from the severed cable illuminated the area in bursts, outlining the inquisitor with each flash. She approached Julwei with steady confidence. Her blade scraped along the floor. Julwei’s eyes couldn’t adjust to the darkness well enough to see the inquisitor’s face clearly, but between the flashes, she saw her eyes were closed.

“It’s watching you, Bounty Hunter.”

Julwei tensed. She turned — tried to — but the inquisitor clasped her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Where?”

“Below us. It’s in the water.”

“How do you know?”

“Focus. You don’t need to see it.” The inquisitor tapped the floorboards. “It’s waiting.”

“Why?”

“I have a theory. You won’t like it.”

The inquisitor tightened her grip on Julwei’s shoulder. The ether shifted, growing dense, and Julwei realized her companion’s plan a moment too late. Inquisitor Jyn shoved Julwei back, sending the bounty hunter spiraling through the air. Julwei collided with a support beam. She heard the wood crack against her back. The memory of a bruise returned with an ache that echoed through her shoulders. The inquisitor’s blade clattered to the floor.

“Merti,” Julwei swore.

“Right!”

Impulse. Julwei responded before she registered the inquisitor’s words. The floorboards exploded into splinters where she sat a moment ago.

Scrambling to her feet, Julwei stumbled forward. She held her hand out, hoping she would feel the wall with her fingers before her face. She sensed the beast behind her. Not an image. Nothing clear. Only a spot where the ether grew colder.

“Duck!”

Julwei ducked. The monster soared over her.

She heard the sound of metal cutting into flesh. The beast’s cry echoed through the floats, a howl that rocked her body with waves of pressure, like the monster carried all its weight in its voice. Julwei clutched her ears, curling into a ball, though it did nothing to alleviate the pressure. She convulsed on the ground. Every muscle in her body screamed with the beast. The world was dark but fuzzy stars burned into her eyes

And then there was silence.

She hardly noticed the inquisitor pull her to her feet and wrap Julwei’s arm around her shoulder. She hardly noticed the rough leather armor on her skin or that the hilt of the inquisitor’s blade sometimes jabbed her side as they walked. She hardly noticed the slick blood that stained them both.

She did notice the inquisitor’s arm around her waist.

“My sword, Bounty Hunter. Where is it?” The inquisitor sighed. “Ah, nevermind. I’ll find it.”

Julwei’s legs worked. Her bruises stung, but she had suffered worse. Her head cleared within a minute of walking. Still, she leaned on Inquisitor Jyn for support.

“You threw me,” she said a moment later.

“I told you you would not like my theory. It’s good you listen well.”

“What? That monster was hunting me?”

“Not you. Not quite.” The inquisitor paused, waiting for Julwei’s question, then answered before the islander could formulate the words. “We’ve long suspected someone was smuggling artifacts through Bar Tannis. The victims worked for WMS. When I saw the monster was not a kerye, it all made sense.”

Julwei nodded.

“The warehouse was clean. I don’t know where they’re working from. I’ll have to spend some time in the city. You did well, Bounty Hunter. I won’t waste any more of your time. Tomorrow, I’ll arrange the fare with Captain Tas. Tonight, let’s find you a proper bed.”

By morning, the inquisitor found her second blade. Julwei could still feel the hum of it in her hand. What became of the monster’s corpse, she didn’t know.

Inquisitor Jyn hid her exhaustion well. She stood with the same commanding presence as when they first met, a statue on the docks. Only a slight smile betrayed any emotion at all.

Julwei, however, felt the full weight of the night’s adventure. Her back burned. Her head ached. She hadn’t noticed at the time, but the creature’s whiskers left thin cuts on her arm that itched and reopened with every scratch.

The inquisitor greeted her with a small jar of healing salve. “This should help.”

Nodding, Julwei tucked it into her bag, next to the metal orb. Her hand hovered over the artifact. She locked eyes with the inquisitor.

“Yes?”

“I shouldn’t have this,” Julwei said.

“No, you shouldn’t. But I agreed it was yours. Turn it in to the archivists. Claim your reward.”

“Thank you.”

“I hope our paths cross again, Bounty Hunter.”

And then the inquisitor left.

Port Mian was a vastly different city than Bar Tannis. Though still large, the abundance of space on the mainland allowed it to sprawl outwards in organized sections. The further from the coast Julwei walked, the narrower the streets became, and the taller the buildings grew, but even then the gaps were wide enough for trolleys and carts. Julwei could see the sun. No thick fog covered the city.

Ornate facades imposed order and class. Brick and stone lined the streets and the city hid its unseemly functional infrastructure in alleys. Even the metal bars that covered the window of the bounty office — a squat building not far from the shipyard — were painted kingdom colours. The inside was dull. Bureaucratic. Gas lamps lit the interior. Shadows crept up the walls. Half a garrison of lawmen milled about.

A clerk guided Julwei to one of the small offices as she entered. A tungsten man sat at his desk, shuffling through stacks of paper, scribbling notes as he sorted. He hardly glanced at Julwei as she sat down across from him. Pulling a fresh set of paperwork from his drawer, he pushed his glasses up on his grey nose and wet his pen in the inkwell.

“License?”

“NKO-PMI-3903.”

He scrawled the number across the top of the form. A wide grin crossed his face. His teeth were sharp. Several were missing. “Local? That’s good. Very good. Looking for work?”

“Turning in.”

“Live?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see. I see. Contracts?”

Julwei pulled the stack of paper from her satchel and set it before the man. Several pages stuck together. The ink ran on others.

The man tutted. “You should take better care.”

Julwei said nothing.

“I’ll have Yu Ling pull the copies. Wait here.”

For a few minutes, Julwei sat alone in the room. When the door opened again, an elderly human man stepped in, quickly shutting the door behind him. His grey hair thinned on the top. His jowls sagged with age. He was pale, almost as ghostly white as the office’s walls. No aura of cold came off of him, but Julwei still felt the nerves in her gut.

The man regarded her with large brown eyes as he walked around the room. An array of medals were pinned to his chest and his robes flowed out from behind him. One hand was missing two fingers.

“Does the name Seros mean anything to you?” he finally asked. His voice was soft.

“He was one of my contracts.”

“Was? You were successful?”

“Yes.”

“Where was he?”

“Osprey.”

“The islands. Of course. What did he say to you?”

“Nothing unusual.” Julwei spoke without pause. The man let her words linger in the air, his challenge unspoken, but it gripped her heart all the same. Julwei held her ground.

“I never was a bounty hunter,” he said after a while. “You will need to elaborate for me. What did he say?”

“He begged for his life. He insulted me.”

“Insulted?”

“Sanessa.”

“Crude. Nothing else?”

“He said he used to be a bounty hunter.”

The man released a breath. He settled into the wooden office chair. “He was.”

Julwei waited for the man to continue. He did not.

“Do you know who I am?”

Julwei shook her head,

“Isaac Amon. I am an archivist. Did you see anything unusual in Osprey?”

“No. But Seros had this.” Julwei reached into her bag — slowly as the archivist twitched when she moved — and retrieved the artifact. She set it on the table and Isaac immediately snatched it. Muttering to himself, he ran a finger over the carvings on the gimbals.

“Do you know what this is?” he asked when he finally met Julwei’s eyes again.

“An artifact. I think,” Julwei quickly added. “I planned to deliver it to the archives after turning in my bounties.”

‘Does anyone else know you have this? Anyone at all? Witnesses? Lawmen? Companions?”

“No one.”

“Good. And Seros is truly dead? Do you have proof?”

Julwei retrieved the lizardfolk’s necklace. The archivist claimed that as well.

“You did well, Julwei. I will see you are appropriately compensated.” Isaac slipped Seros’ necklace and the artifact into his robes. “Seros said nothing else?”

“Didn’t give him a chance.”

Isaac chuckled. His smile gave her chills. “Good, good.”

Without another word, he left. The tungsten handler returned before the door even closed, carrying a large stack of paper under one arm. He tossed a bag of clinking change on the table.

“You’re behind on fees,” he said before he even settled in his chair. “I deducted that from your total. We can only offer 5,000 bar now, but take this to the bank in three days, and the rest of your payment will be there.”

The tungsten man smiled at her. “You impressed the archivist. He doesn’t show it, but you did. That bodes well.”

Julwei nodded.

“Now,” he said, dipping his pen in ink, “let’s find you some more work.”

#bleep bloop #first arc is done #i am maybe slightly more behind than planned #but yay i get to do new things

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Seros - Part II

Read Part I here.

Story below. Also available on Reddit or Wattpad.

A powerful silence filled the temple once her ears stopped ringing and lingered long after the life left Seros’ body. The wound was vicious. His mangled corpse was heavy. Julwei could no longer see his eyes beneath the blood and torn flesh, but his haunting gaze stuck with her, pleading and angry and afraid all at once. A chill trickled down her back, either from his blood or his ghost, but Julwei ignored it as she carried him out.

She buried the lizardfolk in the temple’s courtyard where the roots of the great jungle trees had loosened the stone but the ground below was still soft. The grave was shallow, hardly worth calling a grave at all, but it was more than most her contracts ever got.

Julwei couldn’t justify why she felt the need to show his body such respect. Some in the kingdom had beliefs about the honor of the dead. Sacred traditions involving burial rites and fond memories. Julwei never cared for such things. Traditions were a luxury for those with time. Those who didn’t find themselves at the mercy of a vengeful friend. The contract was complete when her bounty lay dead on the floor or, rarer these days, in chains in the bounty office. But the danger did not end there. Even a lonely lizardfolk exiled to a traitor’s island might have allies with little to lose. She would not be safe until she returned to kingdom shores.

Julwei marked his grave with a cairn of rock.

She spent the night sheltered in her bounty’s old camp. Awake. Alert. Her hand never far from the gun — his gun. She dared not venture into the jungle before the sun rose. The beasts lurking within gave the temple a wide berth, but she felt their eyes watching her. Inside the temple was even worse.

Julwei lit a fire and gave in to curiosity. She searched Sero’s camp for more artifacts, but if he owned anything else of value, she couldn’t tell. His books were dense literature. He hoarded letters from Meera, an old friend and another name on Julwei’s growing list of enemies. Some crates were filled with paints and tools. Some with salted meat and drinks. Some with nothing at all. Beasts carved from wood sat on a table, a few were painted, many were not. For a moment, she wondered if he lied about his time as a bounty hunter. If not for the scattershot gun now at her side and bruises on her body, she might have convinced herself he did.

With a dawning light, Julwei grabbed a pack and filled it with supplies. There were only a couple dozen spare shells for Seros’ gun, but she lost hers to the darkness in the temple. When she had a chance, she would find a way to make more. She tucked his necklace away between rolls of bandages.

Her hand hovered over the gyroscope artifact.

She had not noticed the whispers in the temple courtyard — or perhaps she dismissed them as part of the jungle — but now they silenced, as though in anticipation of what she may do next. The artifact would sell well. Even the kingdom would pay for it, once they confirmed its authenticity. But… the artifact belonged to the temple. No one told her this. Not Seros or his notes. Not the whispers. She felt their eyes judging her as she reached for it. They bored into her skull, always out of sight, but undeniable in their presence.

Julwei covered the artifact with a cloth and shoved it into her bag.

With the campfire extinguished, she left the temple.

She ached for days. A sharp pain followed every breath. The healing salve she bought from a local witch worked well enough on the cuts and bruises, but only time could fix her broken body.

For the better part of a week, Julwei spent her nights in a spare room above a tavern. It was sparse, little more than a bed and a chair she wedged against the door. The warm air carried the smell of fish through the shutters. The tavern below remained quiet. Its patrons changed little day to day, many stuck as well. A trio of lizardfolk sat in one corner, drinking, laughing, and speaking rapidly in their native tongue. A table of islanders traded wealth in an endless game of cards. A fresh deserter, still in his torn kingdom garb, joined them, tossing down some bar for a hand and a drink. He disappeared after that first night.

Julwei kept her head down, hoping to avoid the same fate.

Osprey was a rare stop for cargo ships and rarer still for passenger vessels. The few that anchored in the harbor had kind hearted captains, eager to rid themselves of stowaways before submitting to an inspection. Most preferred to throw unwelcome guests overboard. None were willing to risk returning from an island that didn’t exist with a potential traitor. Her initial charter fit the first category, kind enough to row her to the island but unwilling to wait for her to finish her bounty. She approached a few captains during her stay at the tavern, but none would take her, even when she offered to show them her contract.

None except Braxx Tas.

He was a patchwork man dressed in a weathered shirt. A rusty beard covered most of his cracked, pale face, but failed to hide his smile or friendly eyes. A tangled mess of red hair exploded from beneath his tricorn hat and fell to his shoulders. Braxx set a pair of glasses down and filled them with something brown and sweet before he even said a word. His one good arm burned red from the sun. The other turned mekanica at the elbow. Gears and wires and pulleys whirred to life as he took his glass in hand. From the gaps in the scrapwork plates, Julwei spied a blade hidden in his wrist.

“My friend tells me you need a ship,” he said once he finished his drink. “I am Braxx Tas. Captain, for a price.”

“Julwei.”

“Where are you heading, Miss Julwei?”

“Mian.”

“Mainland? I assumed you would head west. What could an islander need in the kingdom?”

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

“You don’t have a ship in port already?”

“It had other passengers.”

“Ah. So now you’re stranded on the islands with bloody hands.” Braxx glanced under the table. “Unless you’re hiding him in that bag of yours.”

“You have a ship?”

“Of course I have a ship. I said captain, did I not? The Joy’s the finest vessel you’ll see. She’s fast as any kingdom ship; faster if need be. Quiet, too, if that’s a concern. I was on my way to Bar Tannis at the request of my current passenger. We could extend our trip a week.”

“You’ll take me to Mian?”

“For two thousand.”

Julwei narrowed her eyes. “That’s enough to get me there and back.”

“Seems to me, you don’t have many options, Miss Julwei. You are welcome to stay. I have no need for more guests. I’ll even do you a favor. The next chance I get, I’ll ask another ship to pick you up.” The captain’s smile never wavered. “It will be a while, you know. Bar Tannis is a month away, with the wind’s fortune. Can you wait that long? I know your kind is tough, but I know your life. Mine is not so different. We must watch our backs, you and I.” 

“I can do a thousand.”

“Fifteen hundred. More than fair. You’ll have your own room. You wouldn’t get that on a lesser ship.”

“I don’t have that much bar on me.”

“I imagine it’s not a fifth of your bounty. I will collect once we reach the kingdom.” With a greedy eyes, Braxx held out his glass. “Do we have a deal?”

Julwei sighed and clinked his glass, draining it in a single swallow.

The captain’s ship came into view as he navigated the skiff out to deeper water. Compared to the various fishing trawlers and outriggers,.his vessel was an imposing figure. A pair of masts rose far into the sky. The narrow black hull turned it into a shadow on the water. As they drew closer, Julwei could see the gleam of cannons on its deck, far more than necessary for what pretended to be a merchant ship. In faded gold letters along the stern, her name: The Joy of Esmeralda.

From a distance, she was beautiful. Closer, she could tell the captain’s pride spoke for him. She would hardly call the ship fine. The hull was wood and scratched and covered in wounds hastily repaired from salvage. The weathered paint chipped away. Ropes held the bowsprit together, though it looked as if the whole thing would break away at any moment. Like her captain, The Joy was patchwork, held together by will and scrap.

Still, she could float and would take Julwei to Mian. She survived worse ships.

A pair of tungsten men hoisted the skiff out of the water, helping Braxx out, then Julwei. Before she could plant both feet solidly on the surface of the deck, the heat of the island sun disappeared, replaced by a chill that worked up Julwei’s spine and numbed her fingers.

The cold pulled her gaze to its source.

A woman stood on the far side of the deck and stared into the setting sun. Her dark hair was tied into a bun that rested on the collar of her uniform. The uniform itself was black with red trim and reinforced by leather. Two swords sat on her hip. One was long and slender with an oranet basket guard of gold and red and a matching sheath. The other was plain. It was the  kind of sturdy weapon one expected to find on a pirate ship. She turned toward the pair. The badge on her chest glinted in the fading light, shouting her rank to the world, but even without it, Julwei knew what she was.

Julwei considered leaping overboard before the inquisitor noticed her.

Indecision sealed her fate. She met the inquisitor’s eyes, jewels set in soft brown stone, and felt the heat on her cheeks. Julwei stared dumbstruck as the inquisitor crossed the deck. One hand rested on the hilt of her finer blade. Some animal had scarred her cheek, only intensifying her scowl. Too late, Julwei looked away. Legends claimed inquisitor’s could read a person’s thoughts — even control them like a puppet — through nothing more than eye contact. Most likely, those legends were nothing more than stories born from the war. Julwei didn’t care to find out.

Julwei moved her hand to her gun and cast a sidelong glance to Captain Tas. He showed no sign of fear nor greedful joy at having delivered a witch to an inquisitor. Instead, he clasped the inquisitor’s arm, greeting her with a smile.

“Miss Karina, you’ve returned. Your business is concluded?”

“It is.”

“My crew? How did they do? Fresh blood must be tested.”

“I asked them to wait on the beach.” The inquisitor eyed Julwei. “I told you my work is private.”

“You know I could not leave the kingdom’s greatest knight unprotected.”

“There was no danger.”

“Yes, yes, of course, but if something had happened, Miss Karina… I would hate to spend my life in exile.”

“Your concern is appreciated, Captain.” For a moment, the inquisitor’s steel countenance broke and the faintest smile graced her lips. “You will be fine.”

The frown returned. “I did not expect guests.”

Silence. Julwei debated, briefly, if she could pass for mute, but Captain Tas spoke before she could decide, clasping his mekanica hand on her shoulder.

“There is not enough trade in an island town for me. I must pay my crew somehow. This is Miss Julwei. She is a bounty hunter. We will take her to Mian, after Bar Tannis.”

“I see. I am Inquisitor Jyn.”

Another silence filled the air. Julwei wondered if the inquisitor expected her to bow or shake her hand or acknowledge the introduction in some way. She didn’t. She kept her hand on the grip of her gun, mimicking the inquisitor’s stance.

The inquisitor broke the silence. “Very well. If I am needed, I will be in my quarters.”

She nodded to them both before departing. Julwei watched her dip below deck, waiting until the inquisitor was out of sight, before releasing her breath. Her hand shook. Her heart battered against her chest.

“You didn’t tell me your other passenger is an inquisitor.”

“Didn’t I?” The captain laughed. “Must have slipped my mind. If it is a problem, Miss Julwei, you are welcome to swim to shore. If it is not, come with me. I’ll show you to your cabin.”

He whistled to his crew to set off and followed the inquisitor below, humming a merry tune to himself.

Her quarters were little more than a hammock strung over a table. The narrow room sat just off the bow, hardly worth calling a cabin, but it offered some semblance of solitude on the crowded ship. She hid away as long as she could bear. The rest of the time she spent with the crew.

The Joy was a lively place. Captain Tas’ crew  sang through their days and drank through their nights. Even when she retired, often stumbling to the little room thanks to the alcohol and the sway of the ocean, she could hear them laugh and talk into the night. Rein and Daxton — the tungsten couple — shared stories of the outreaches, a land as lawless as the sea. Other nights they gambled away booze and good shifts.

In the quiet moments, when her cabin became too cramped to bear, she found herself on deck. There was a certain calm found only at sea. The waves lulled The Joy with a gentle rhythm. The air was clear. No smoke. No death. No whispers. The kingdom controlled the water, but only in name. The sea swallowed its presence with brilliant blues and greens that shifted with each passing day. Fintail and dolphins played in the ship’s wake. It was a work of art that no portrait could capture. Not even the inquisitor’s presence could sully it.

Eventually, the kingdom did return.

Many called Bar Tannis a jewel. A triumph of the kingdom’s ingenuity and perseverance. No city — not on the mainland, not in the colonies, not even the capital itself — could better represent the kingdom. The city towered into the sky and disappeared into the ever present fog. Bar Tannis once sat on an island made of hills. Now it stretched beyond. Steel, carved stone, and wood conquered the surrounding sea. Buildings grew like weeds, sitting on docks and reclaimed piers. Some sat on platforms tied down by anchors. Walkways tied them together, rising and falling with the tide. Canals carved paths through the manufactured islands.

It was chaos. A maze with hundreds of entrances, but no exit.

The city’s importance to the kingdom was undeniable. In the war, Bar Tannis served to bolster the kingdom’s navy, providing supplies, repairs, and information for kingdom captains. Bar Tannis was the last stop before months of open sea and the first stop for those returning from the colonies.  Now it was a city of opportunity. Trade flourished. People came. People went. But always, the city grew.

For Julwei, Bar Tannis was once her chance for freedom. Now it was a city like any other.

The kingdom would always find her.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Bounty Hunter.”

Julwei turned on the woman’s voice, her gun already halfway drawn. The inquisitor barely moved. Her grip did not tighten on her blades. Her gaze did not follow Julwei’s hand. Instead, she met Julwei’s eyes, challenging and confident.

Julwei slowly slid the gun back into its holster. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know this ship and its crew well. Captain Tas would not sell you a room for labour. You are a guest. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Hm.”

“Do I scare you?”

“I’ve heard stories.”

“I am sure you have. Inquisitors who can conjure storms that tear through ships like cannons. Great battle masters who’ve felled entire armies. Even some who can read minds. They are all true, I assure you. Gifts taken from the ether to keep the monsters at bay.”

Julwei nodded.

“And you thought I would use these gifts on you?”

“It crossed my mind.”

“Why? Because you are ether-touched? Do not try to deny it. I felt the cold on you. The same — I’m sure — that you felt on me. Your bounty is through the office, yes? Not some crime lord with a grudge?”

Again, Julwei nodded.

“Then you have nothing to fear from me. I dare not call a loyal servant of the kingdom a witch.”

“Alright.”

“Perhaps, then, you could take your hand off your weapon and we could have a civilized conversation.”

Julwei let the gun slip back into its holster. “What do you want?”

“A conversation, nothing more. A way to pass the time until we dock. I am bored, Bounty Hunter, and your life must be fascinating. Surely you have stories to tell? Traveling to the furthest reaches of the kingdom, chasing outlaws and mutineers.”

“No more exciting than an inquisitor’s, I reckon.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. I’ve been stationed in the colonies the past few years.” Inquisitor Jyn leaned on the handrail. “Bureaucracy does not make for good stories. Nothing compared to the life of a bounty hunter, I would hope.”

“I assumed you were hunting witches.”

“We are tools for peace and prosperity. We serve however the kingdom deems fit. That may include protecting our citizens from witches and other beasts, but that is not all we do. The colonies are still recovering. I’ve been assisting the governor in Talen Mon. Nothing that would interest you. What takes you to Mian?”

“Bounty office.”

“You have more contracts?”

“Not yet.”

“Would you like one?”

Julwei tensed. She met the inquisitor’s brown eyes again, hoping her expression would ask the question she couldn’t get past her lips. Inquisitor Jyn took the hint.

“There is something happening in Bar Tannis. People disappear overnight. No sign of struggle. No warning at all. They work one day. They are gone the next.”

“That’s not unusual.”

“No? These are not the kind of people who leave without a trace.”

Julwei shrugged. “Everyone has secrets.”

“You would know.” The inquisitor sighed. “Someone found one of the missing. What was left of them anyway. There is a monster to be sure. On an island like that, might be a kerye. I intend to hunt it.”

“A kerye?”

“A nasty creature. You can find them along the coast near low traffic roads, picking off wildlife. Sometimes an unfortunate traveler. Bar Tannis is far more aggressive than usual. It might be a pack. I wish I had seen the body. I could probably tell from the bite marks.”

“Oh.”

“Well, Bouncy Hunter? Would you like the job?”

“I don’t see how I could help. I don’t hunt monsters.”

“I only need someone to watch my back. I would make it worth your while.” The inquisitor smiled. “Captain Tas is a good man, but I know him. He overcharged you for passage, didn’t he? The kingdom will gladly cover whatever fee he charged.”

Julwei let the silence fill the air.

“I will ignore the artifact you have.”

Julwei opened her mouth to deny the claim, but one glance at Inquisitor Jyn’s face and she knew it was futile. The threat hung in the silence, almost a taunt, daring Julwei to try to lie.

“Sounds like I have no choice.”

“You do. You could give me the artifact, pay Captain Tas his fare, and claim the bounty in Mian. Or you could assist me. I’ll pay your passage and, should some ancient relic appear on the black market, claim ignorance. The archivists won’t care once it’s in their hands. So, do we have a deal?”

The inquisitor held out a gloved hand.

Julwei shook it.

#Bounty #Julwei #seros #short story #fantasy writing #technically this whole arc heavily references engineer+witch #but this part solidly places it as sequel content

[actualfarless]

My Deer

A huntress and an animal shapeshifter fall in love. The way that they met was complicated.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

Keep reading

[actualfarless]

My Deer

A huntress and an animal shapeshifter fall in love. The way that they met was complicated.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

I studied Hilda’s rough hands as she kneaded the dough, dark brows furrowed together in concentration. She grimaced, almost snarling at the bread-to-be, as she folded it over and over. She wore the same intense look on any serious task. Work. Art. Deep conversations about life, us, and the future. Mario Party. Unleashing a primal roar, she slammed the dough onto the counter with a thundering slap. Despite months of watching Hilda attempt her own bread, I still nearly leapt from my chair.

Hilda waited for the cloud of flour to dissipate before continuing her furious work. Her black hair, pulled back into a tight ponytail, was now dusted with white. Her face and clothes too.

“Lookin’ good, babe,” I teased.

A smile broke through her stern gaze as she spun on her heels. Hilda wiped the powder off her forehead, though she mostly only succeeded in smearing it across her face. “Hot, right?”

“Very,” I said with a laugh. “How goes the bread murder?”

“It’s not murder. I’m giving it life.”

“By beating it?”

“By beating it.”

Tossing her apron on the chair, the one I bought for her almost a year into our relationship, she poured some coffee into our hers-and-hers mugs. Hilda could be overly serious, usually was overly serious, but she enjoyed her frills. Our kitchen was a pastel dreamscape filled with hearthfelt platitudes. One hung by the window that gazed over Chicago’s streets, proclaiming ‘Today is a Good Day to Bake.’ ‘My Kitchen, My Music, My Rules,’ hung on the other side.

A far cry from what I expected when I first met her.

Her smile slipped a moment. Brief, but not unnoticed. My heart grew heavy in my chest. I would have been content to watch her pound dough into submission and enjoy an idle Sunday filled with laziness. Hilda would not.

“You want to talk about it,” I said solemnly.

“I don’t want to force you…”

“But you want to talk about it.”

Hilda let her eyebrows pull together. I used to read it as angry. She looked angry. But I knew her well enough by now. I knew better. She nodded.

“I do.” She paused, then added, “go at your own pace.”

“Okay.” I let out a long sigh. “I ran into my father.”

“Oh.” Her gaze was stern, but her voice was soft. “Lils, I’m so sorry.”

She started rounding the table for a hug, but I pushed her back. I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in her arms and forget my problems, but I already struggled enough to maintain my composure. If I gave in, I would never get through it.

Hilda knew me well enough. She stepped back, anxiously curling and stretching her fingers.

“I’m so sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have asked.”

Another pain in my heart. “It’s not your fault.”

“I knew something was wrong, though. I should have checked to see if you were alright. I was so caught up with my own shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t control my parents.”

“But still-”

“Hilda, please. I hurt you too. You’re allowed to be upset too. It’s okay. You let me have space. That’s all I needed.” I offered her a sympathetic smile. “We’re talking now.”

“Okay.” Her voice was small. Even the serious, resting anger started to slip, succumbing to the tears at the corner of her eyes. “Okay.”

I could feel my heart seizing in my chest. Every part of my body was urging me to run away. Give into the flight. But I knew I couldn’t. Avoiding the topic would only hurt her more.

“He looked old. I guess in my head, he was still the young bu- guy from my childhood. It’s been a decade since I saw him, but I guess I expected him to look the same. He was old and grey and it got to me.” I sipped my coffee. I was still growing used to the stuff, but a few scoops of sugar were transformative. “I don’t know. I think that got to me more than any of the stuff he said.”

“What did you talk about?” Her voice was calmer now, but her face was still red from the almost-tears. Or perhaps the anger. She dried her eyes on the part of her sleeve that wasn’t coated in flour.

“He warned me that I was making a mistake. Said that being here, being with you was a mistake. Reminded me of the dire consequences. The usual stuff.”

“Fire and brimstone?”

I smiled softly. “He’s not exactly that type.”

“Oh.” Hilda reached her hands across the table and I took them in mine. They were rough but soothing. Awkwardly pushing my chair back as I leaned forward, crawling on top of the sturdy wooden table, I kissed her hand before freeing them from my grasp. The table was a little too long to make that romantic gesture anything more than comical.

We needed a little levity.

I carefully returned to the ground, narrowly avoiding spilling our coffees. I smiled at her and mentally prepared myself for the next part. “The thing is, he got to me. I don’t want him to, but he did.”

“Lily, I -”

“He’s wrong. I know he is. Still, I need to tell you.”

Hilda nodded. Serious, scared, silent.

“Before I say anything, I want you to know, I love you. I love you more than anyone or anything.”

Hilda nodded again. She looked as if she could crumble.

“I know what you do for a living.”

“Yeah, insurance.” The response was automatic, almost robotic. Only the slight waver in her voice gave any indication that she was not some android creature. It was the response she was trained to give by the VCLC. Not authentic. Not Hilda.

The lack of hesitation hurt. Even after proposing, she was still hiding things from me. Still pretending she was ordinary.

Then again, so was I.

“No, Hilda. I know.” I didn’t want to spell it out. But I had to. “You’re a monster hu-”

I felt her hand clasp over my mouth before I even registered her movement. She stood behind me, one hand over my mouth, one arm around me, like a restrictive hug. Again, my body urged me to run, but no matter how I struggled, she held me tight.

Hilda glanced around the room. Satisfied that no invisible man was eavesdropping, she released me, hurrying to the window to pull the blinds closed. She looked at me. Perhaps she saw my panicked stare, or perhaps she just realized what she did. Her stern stare broke into a mix of guilt and melancholy.

“Lily, I am so sorry.” She approached the table, careful to keep the distance. She spoke in a whisper. “How did you know? Is this why you said no?”

I gulped. For whatever reason, I felt compelled to match her whisper. “Partially.”

“Partially?”

“I understand why you kept it a secret. I get it.”

“No one is supposed to know. No family. No partners. No one.”

“I get it.” I repeated. I stood, walking to the empty space in our kitchen. It wasn’t big, but it was big enough. “I have one too.”

With a heavy sigh, I let my body go. I grew up in the forest with the transformations. They didn’t bother me. But Hilda’s face grew more horrified with every passing second. The process was quick, but it felt like ages as I watched her realize. I heard my clothes rip and felt the scraps of fabric fall off me. I couldn’t feel my body shift and change, but I watched my fingers turn into hooves and remembered to kick off my shoes just before my feet did the same. White and brown fur sprouted over my body. My short tail shot out of my butt. Comical if I wasn’t gambling with my life.

I couldn’t speak any more, but she understood the message.

Hilda was a monster hunter.

I was a monster.

#short story #my deer #this was a follow up to confessions I think #also hilda is totally named that cause of fire emblem #you can tell my obsessions at the time

[actualfarless]

Bounty: Seros - Part I

Julwei is a bounty hunter. Nothing more. But when one of contracts brings her outside the kingdom's borders, she finds herself entangled in a conspiracy and her secrets exposed. Now its only a matter of time until she finds herself on the wrong end of a gun. Or worse, an inquisitor's blade.

Story below. Also available on Wattpad or Reddit.

The pungent odor of the sea hit Julwei first as she snapped awake. The familiar mix of old fish and gull burned her nostrils. The throbbing pain in her skull came next. Her back and shoulders burned with pain but, judging from the chill that worked down her back, nothing important was broken.

Julwei pushed herself to her feet. Wood and cloth and silver spicefish littered the dented cooling plate around her. The familiar buzz of a nearby arc core — the power source for the plate, of course — ran along her arms. She spared a glance to the man whose stall she ruined.

“Sorry.”

The islander crossed his arms and narrowed his grey eyes in response.

“Fair enough.” Julwei shrugged. “You see a lizard? Green scales, tall, strong.”

He pointed through a hole in the yellow canopy, a hole, she was sure, recently added when Julwei fell from the cliff above. She scanned the cliff. No sign of the lizardfolk who threw her down.

“You sure he didn’t follow me down?”

The man offered no response.

“You know where he went?”

Still nothing.

“Alright.”

Pulling her black hair out of her face, Julwei nodded a farewell. She thought, for a moment, that the vendor may try to stop her. She had destroyed his shop, technically. He would be justified. But he only grumbled at her as she passed. Perhaps he saw some kinship in her brown eyes. He recognized her as one of his own. If not from this town — this island — another nearby.

Or perhaps he feared the gun hanging from her hip.

Raising a hand to block the sun, she scanned the town. Osprey was a small port, compared to those that dotted the coast of the kingdom, but not empty. It sat several days off the fastest trade routes, protected from intruders by storms, coral reefs, and sandbanks. Only small ships could safely navigate to the harbor, and most preferred to row in. Yet enough managed to make the journey to turn the island into one of the few trading hubs outside kingdom control. Unofficially, the kingdom deemed Osprey a lost cause and left it to pirates, rebels, and other lowlifes.

Officially, it didn’t exist.

The cliffs shielded half of Osprey from the vengeful sun and colorful tarps made of flora cloth protected the rest. They were strung together between leaning multi-storey wooden structures and poles painted in pastels. The port was mostly cobbled together from the wood of half sunk ships. Only a faint suggestion of the island’s original architecture remained.

Julwei watched the crowd as she made her way to the coast. Islanders, kingdom escapees, and even the occasional mekanica filled the port, but her bounty was nowhere in sight. Under different circumstances, she would be impressed how a creature with scales and a tail could disappear in a place smaller than a kingdom galleon. Even in the islands, lizardfolk were uncommon. The few she did see didn’t match his height or coloring.

Her body ached with every step, a constant painful reminder of who she was hunting. Nothing compared to the pulsing in her head. At the moment, Julwei wanted nothing more than a warm bath and healing salve, but she couldn’t wait. She spent a month tracking the lizardfolk to Osprey. Allowing him to escape wasn’t an option.

If she was lucky, he slipped back into the jungle and fell prey to the island. If she was unlucky, he retreated and set another trap.

Either way, she still needed proof.

The beach had no shade and the sun burned Julwei’s skin as she stepped into the sea. Everything on the islands was warmer. Even the water felt pleasant against her skin, except for the salt in her wounds, unlike the cold waves in the mainland. Were it not for the bounty or her debts, she might not return to the kingdom.

Even with the debts, she was tempted to stay.

Julwei knelt in the water for a moment, collecting herself. The waves pushed against her with an easy, lazy rhythm. The backwash carved grooves under her knees and boots. Salt stung the cuts she didn’t even know she had. A curious scuttler inched dangerously close, snapping its pincers as a threat, but even the mere act of flicking it away seemed like too much work. Her next encounter with the lizardfolk would require a more careful approach. He was too strong to risk a direct fight, especially without taking time to recover and treat her injuries. Time she couldn’t afford.

Closing her eyes, Julwei focused her mind on the bounty, calling forth an image of the lizardfolk. It was easier now that she had seen his face in person. The drawing from the bounty office didn’t show his scales were green or the way the split in his lip widened when he snarled. His teeth weren’t as sharp or long and a few were missing, no doubt knocked loose in a bar fight after he defected. Lizardfolk wore age differently than humans, but he looked older. Not significantly, but whoever described him remembered someone young.

The drawings showed his eyes dark and full of malice. The artist depicted him as the villain the kingdom proclaimed.

His eyes were yellow and afraid.

Julwei pictured the lizard as he was before he threw her from the cliff. Afraid but violent. Easily tossing her with one arm, the other tight on his satchel, roaring in fury. She pictured every scar, every tooth, each of the tiny spurs on his jaw and scalp, and held that image in her mind as she submerged herself.

Then she took a breath.

Her lungs screamed as she swallowed the salty water. Her body forgot the pain in her head and on her limbs. All she could feel was fire in her chest. Every sane part of her body urged her to surface, but Julwei focused her thoughts only on the lizardfolk. She pushed herself deeper into the sea, even as the darkness creeped into the corners of her mind, teasing her with death.

Some called it magic. Others sorcery, the ether, witchcraft, the cold, and many other words for the space between life and death. Few could reach it and many that could passed too far into death. The ether was power. Uncontrollable without luck or training, but power on the same. By the laws of the kingdom, witchcraft was outlawed. The problem often took care of itself but, when deemed necessary, the kingdom punished witches with ruthless efficiency.

There were exceptions. Hushed whispers spread in dark corners of the kingdom. Rumors of strange powers used by the kingdom’s own enforcers — inquisitors, a dying breed of an ancient order. Rumors spread too of wealthy officials and particularly lucky gamblers, but neither seemed worthy of an inquisitor’s time. The kingdom overlooked Julwei for reasons she didn’t understand and didn’t question. She felt the familiar chill from enough of her contracts to know the kingdom’s blind eye was a privilege, not a right.

They would come for her someday. She only hoped to die before then.

As the last of her strength waned away, the world came into a new focus. Shadows shifted into smoky images painted in muted colors that turned to junglewood and stone. The smell of earth and ash filled her nose. The sounds of birds and panthers and other beasts echoed around her. Her vision sharpened and her eyes focused on a broken pyramid deep within the island.

Her bounty hadn’t fled.

Julwei broke the surface, gasping for fair, and flailed wildly until the water was shallow enough for to pull herself away. Every breath stung. Between each, she purged the water from her lungs. But she could breathe. She was alive. Most importantly, the shortcut worked. She found her bounty.

By the time the sun dipped beyond the horizon — its last golden rays painting the sky in shades of orange — Julwei was deep in the jungle. Her head and lungs hadn’t forgiven her yet, but impatience won out. She limped along the narrow trail, following the path now seared in her memory. The ether gave her a vague idea of her destination through her bounty’s eyes, but the hike wasn’t easy and the little aches began to weigh on her. She ignored the concerning noises coming from the canopy, always a creature just out of sight, though she kept her hand on her pistol as a precaution. She couldn’t stop until she found shelter.

Fortunately, that had been done for her.

The lizardfolk had found a temple hidden within the island and established a camp. She had a hazy image of the ancient stone and overgrown roots in her mind, but she recognized the patterns carved on the walls. Or her bounty did, at least. She had never seen one before, though stories of similar temples spread throughout the kingdom. Some claimed that a great civilization once conquered the world, stretching beyond even the kingdom’s current borders. None could explain how such a great nation could collapse and leave behind nothing but old stone.

As far as Julwei was concerned, the stepped pyramids of the islands had nothing to do with the ruins in the kingdom or the one found in the colonies. Supposed connections were nothing but delusions by novelists.

Yet she felt her pain give way to excitement. She heard stories of great explorers as a child, of dashing adventurers who retrieved relics from the clutches of vile monsters. They ventured deep into the ruins for mysterious artifacts steeped in power. Others told stories of the spirits that still haunted the temples, guarding their homes from intruders, luring them into traps or remnants of magic.

Foolish treasure hunters claimed they stole artifacts from under the nose of kingdom forces. They could rarely make such claims twice.

The kingdom encouraged rumors. They greatly appreciated the relics and exploration done by treasure hunters, officially sanctioned or not. The reward for a genuine piece of history exceeded any bounty tenfold. To keep things civil, the punishment for any forgery was severe, often death. The king’s archivists were not easily fooled.

Not that Julwei needed to worry. Osprey’s temple obviously remained undiscovered thus far, otherwise the kingdom’s fleet would have already claimed it. No island beast or coral reef was so dangerous a thousand soldiers couldn’t best it.

They might even reward her for its discovery.

The only obstacle was one lizard. The bounty would be hers. The relics would be hers to sell. And Julwei could find a warm beach to stay.

Assuming he didn’t kill her.

Dusk turned to night by the time Julwei found the temple. The pyramid peaked above the canopy, a beacon between the twin Dar moons. She felt the air shift as she drew closer. A chill crept under her skin and pulled her closer to the ether. Briefly, Julwei debated her stance on temple ghosts. She found it easier to dismiss them as stories before she felt the cold.

Julwei knew there had been a time when the temple sat over nature, a triumph of its creators, but it was hard to see anything other than a ruin. Much of the original structure lost its centuries-long battle with the surrounding jungle. Only the skeleton remained. Moss and vines covered the structure’s stony base. A large tree rose from what had once been a courtyard, surrounded now by rubble. Its large thick roots twisted through the gaps in the stone floor. One entrance collapsed into a pile of rock and wood. Another was blocked by overgrown vines and roots.

The jungle claimed this land. As it always would.

Checking for traps, Julwei circled the temple. She lacked the enhanced eyesight of her prey, but years of close calls taught her what to look for: a glint of light, a clearing too clean, or a silhouette out of place. She found none of these. She did, however, find her bounty’s camp in the courtyard. Chests served as tables for tools, books, and buckets of colorful liquid. He built a lean-to against a decayed all, the roof made of the same floracloth of Osprey’s town. A fire pit, dug into the temple itself, was full of ash, but nor embers. For a moment, Julwei thought her witchcraft might have failed her again — there was no sign the bounty here — but she felt the ether pull her inside.

Julwei pulled her pistol from its holster and approached the only unbarred entrance to the temple’s interior. She stepped lightly on the stone. Her heart thundered in her chest as the memory of her last encounter with the lizardfolk forced its way to the front of her mind. She would be lucky to survive another fight.

She considered if her target would still be alive. The jungle hadn’t killed either of them yet, but the temple might. She could wait the night outside and leave her bounty to the ghosts. If there was still a body, she would claim it in the morning, under the safety of the sun.

She waited for another breath, but no ghost showed itself.

The hairs on her arm stood as she crept down the passage. Moss clung to her as she brushed past and, no matter how hard she tried to brush it away, it stuck. The cold turned her veins to ice. The rhythmic tap of metal on stone echoed through the hall, growing louder as she drew closer.

Eventually, the narrow hallway opened to a larger rectangle room. More darkened paths led to dead ends on three of the chamber’s four sides, blocked at their ends by nature’s power. Two mighty stone pillars supported what remained of the roof. Vines dangled from a hole.

Jungle growth covered half of the fourth wall. On the other half was a mural of a man under the waning moon, behind him a pyramid much like the temple she stood in. While the man was only carved into the wall, the pyramid was lined with white and gold. Dar Eon was painted in her lunar blues, her shadows stretching beyond the confines of the wall. On the other side, Julwei could see the beginnings of a mirrored scene, no doubt with the rising twin. Between the murals, a large stone door sat a few steps above the floor.

Her bounty focused on the wall, oblivious to her as she approached. Tapping at the wall with a hammer and chisel, he carved along the ancient grooves, clearing them of moss and age. Scars crossed in patterns on his shoulders and back. His muscles rippled beneath his rough skin as he worked. The bony spurs that lined his jaw and scalp continued down his spine and tail. They were short and sparse, but sharp enough to do some damage in a fight.

He wore a belt with several knives and an empty holster. His gun, a strange piece with a wide barrel and a leather-wrapped grip, sat on the crate by the base of the steps, surrounded by brushes, chisels, and his discarded shirt. An old lantern lit the room.

The strange orb next to it caught Julwei’s attention.

Markings similar to the ones engraved around the temple were etched into the metal bands that lazily rotated around the center. The sphere within sat still. Were it not for her connection to the ether, she might have considered it no more than a gyroscope, but she felt the cold around it, denser than the rest of the temple. It was the exact kind of relic chronicler’s sought.

If the lizardfolk knew, he could have traded it for the bounty on his life.

Julwei thumbed the hammer back on her pistol until she heard the click. Her bounty stopped his chiseling. His shoulders tensed. Turning around slowly, he faced Julwei with a sad smile. A pendant hung around his neck. It was inscribed with lettering in a language Julwei could not read, but she knew from others that it was his name, written in a sacred script of a long dead religion.

“Bounty Hunter,” the lizard greeted. His voice was soft and scholarly. “So that was you I smelled.”

His eyes darted to his gun. Julwei could see the indecision on his face. Was he fast enough to reach it before she took her shot? If he were to die anyway, could he take her with him? Was there a point to trying?

The situation was not unfamiliar to her.

“You do not scare as easy as the others,” he mused. The tension in his shoulders disappeared. Clearly, he accepted his fate. “I should have known. I’ve seen your eyes on others. Brave, all of them. Stupid some. Is there any chance you let me live?”

“Afraid not.”

“I assumed as much. Do you have a name, Bounty Hunter?”

“Julwei.”

“I am Seros. I imagine you know this already.”

Julwei nodded.

“Did they tell you what I did?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Seros shook his head. “I can tell you I am innocent.”

“I don’t care.”

“You wouldn’t,” Seros repeated. His gaze turned downward. The lizardfolk was a mass of muscles and scars that towered over her, yet in this moment, he looked fragile. His body was as much a ruin as the temple. As if he could collapse at any moment.

Julwei’s grip on her gun loosened.

“I was a bounty hunter too, once. I served the kingdom, killing who they asked for fifty years. I fought their war — before your time. It is a hard life. I know you know this. We do not have many friends.” Seros sighed. “I thought I had one.”

“You were betrayed.”

He nodded. His movements were slow and methodical. “I was. I heard secrets not meant for my ears. I made no trouble, but my knowing was enough. My confidant chose the kingdom over me. Decades of service and execution was my reward.”

Seros took a heavy breath. He trembled as he spoke, obviously pained by the memories, but Julwei understood the way he studied her. The sadness in his eyes was genuine, but he was clever enough to weaponize that, hoping that she would drop her guard and let him close the distance. Had she not already lost one fight, his plan might have succeeded.

Julwei steadied her aim.

“Before you kill me, nessa, would you like to know the secret?”

“No.”

Julwei pulled the trigger.

A heartbeat later, Seros still stood. No blood painted the walls. No thunder rang out. Only the thud of the hammer slamming forward and wet gunpowder failing to ignite.

Seros reacted quicker than Julwei. Shifting his weight, he turned on his heel and slammed his thick tail into Julwei’s abdomen before leaping for his gun. Her stomach lurched. The pain from the hit quickly faded as she slammed into one of the pillars, smacking her head against the stone. Stars swarmed her vision. The world around her dulled and blurred, but she didn’t faint this time. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

She had no time to recover. Julwei heard a click and threw herself to the ground. Above her, the stone shattered into dust. Seros' pistol left a small grouping of holes in the pillar. He cracked the gun open toward the rear of the barrel, ejecting a smoking shell.

Julwei pushed herself to her feet. Her own pistol disappeared into one of the dark corners of the room. Even if she had it in hand, she couldn’t clear her pistol and reload before him. She’d be lucky if the rest of her stores of gunpowder were dry.

Seros pulled another cartridge from the pouch on his belt. He took slow confident steps toward Julwei, a stern look on his face, though the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. Relief tempered by the somber role of executioner. The sadness in his eyes never faded. He snapped the weapon closed, thumbing back the hammer, and aimed for her chest.

“I am sorry it has come to this.”

If he were heartless, a shot would have rang through the temple and Julwei would be dead. Instead, the lizardfolk hesitated.

Julwei darted forward and shoved her shoulder into him with all her strength. His eyes widened in surprise at her bravery, though Julwei did little more than knock Seros off balance. Still, she bought time.

Julwei pulled one of the lizardfolk’s knives from his belt, slicing across his stomach and chest in one smooth motion. He hissed. Blue blood spilled from the wound, but the cut wasn’t deep enough for any lasting damage. Pressing her limited advantage, Julwei stabbed the knife through his wrist. Seros howled in pain, dropping the gun, and pulled away from her. Eyes locked on his movement, Julwei kicked the gun away and raised her fists.

“Sanessa,” Seros growled.

Julwei punched him. Her fist connected ineffectively with his stomach. Her knuckles scraped on his scales. Seros returned the blow with a clumsy swing of his good arm, knocking Julwei onto her back. The air escaped her lungs as she hit the ground. Her already bruised muscles screamed in protest. Rolling away, Julwei narrowly dodged his kick, and she found her footing before he could do more.

Seros lumbered toward her. His smile faded and eyes hardened. Relief and regret both twisted into anger. The floor shuddered with every step. Julwei glanced around for a weapon, wishing now she had stolen his gun or a second knife. With only her fists, she was more likely to break her own hand than hurt him. Her options were limited.

She knew how this would end.

Seros grabbed Julwei, lifting her by her shirt with one arm. He ignored her futile struggles as he pinned her against the pillar. Something cracked, stone or bone, Julwei wasn’t sure. She brought her shin to his groin with enough force to topple any man, but the lizard only grunted. He pressed his arm against her throat. The knife remained embedded in his wrist. Julwei flinched as the icy blood dripped onto her shoulder. Leaning in close, Seros hissed at her, showing too many sharp teeth.

“I asked for mercy, Bounty Hunter. This could have ended differently.”

Julwei pushed against the pressure on her throat with one hand, trying to grab another knife from the lizardfolk’s belt with the other. Failing that, she searched her pockets in a desperate attempt to find anything of value. Her hand closed on a collection of damp paper wads.

She shoved the fistful into Seros’ face, cutting a packet open on one of the bony spurs on his cheek, and rubbed the damp gunpowder into his eyes. He growled and released his grip just enough for her to bring air back into her lungs. Yanking the knife from his wrist, she plunged it into his side, unleashing a flood of cold blood and a howl of pain.

Julwei pushed away from, wincing as she hit the stone again. Blindly lashing out, Seros kicked at her, following the attack with a swipe from his tail. The floor shattered beneath his steps as Julwei dodged the strikes. Shards of rock bit her arms and chest. Scrambling away, Julwei put as much distance between them as she could.

The bounty, she decided, was underpriced.

Her hand closed around the wooden grip of a gun. Not hers. Too heavy and wide. Julwei spun and pulled the trigger. She didn’t have time to aim. A deafening sound burst from the gun and her arm nearly sprung from its socket. Only practice and fear let her keep her grip on the weapon. The recoil left her exposed, open to retaliation. She had to hope she didn’t miss.

She didn’t.

The shot went low and a little wide, hitting Seros in the gut on the opposite side of the knife. Blood poured from the wound. The pellets embedded in his stomach and a wide hole went through what used to be a vital organ. Some shrapnel hit his damaged arm. His hand was limp as he pressed it to his side.

Seros stumbled back until he was leaning on the wall then sunk to the floor, leaving behind a bloody streak on the moss. His yellow eyes were wide with shock. Julwei had seen the scared look many times before, though it never grew easier to bear.

In their final moments, all feared death.

Julwei approached with caution, pausing only to retrieve Seros’ belt from the floor. Her shot ruined the leather and buckle, so she slung it over her shoulder. Seros drooped his head, giving up the fight. For a moment, there was silence. Each challenging the other to speak.

Seros gave in sooner.

“They will come for you too,” he said. His voice was weak and made small by the vastness of the room. The lizardfolk coughed blood, sprinkling droplets on the floor between them. His dull green scales had all but disappeared beneath the blue stains.

“Likely.”

Julwei ejected the spent cartridge from the gun. Seros’ weapon was unlike any she used before, but it felt natural in her hand. Locking in another round, she raised the gun at him, careful to stay out of reach of his tail.

Seros locked his eyes to hers. “This is a mistake, nessa.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Julwei pulled back the hammer. “Won’t be the last. Anything else?”

Seros glared at her. He moved his fingers to the knife, wincing as he touched the hilt. A gurgling sound followed as he freed it from his side. Julwei tensed. Even with an open wound, even with a mangled arm, he worried her. She knew he couldn’t hit her before she fired; his wounds were too severe. Still, she took a step back.

“Jenai.” He brought the knife to his neck and cut his necklace free. He held it tight in his good hand. “That is my secret. Jenai is our hope.”

Finally, after a lengthy sigh, he nodded to her.

The weapon barked. The wall behind Seros erupted into splinters and what was left of the lizardfolk’s broken body slumped over, blood and gore spilling onto the floor. Julwei flinched at the surge of cold that followed as his spirit crossed the ether.

Seros was dead.

The bounty was complete.

#bounty #julwei #seros #short story #fantasy writing #god i hope this is good

[actualfarless]

Gains

You decide to start getting in shape. But you have no idea how to begin, and gyms are so expensive. You manage to find a cheap, oddly anonymous personal trainer who does house calls. You’re not sure what you were expecting when they arrive, but it definitely was not a teenage girl.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

The doorbell’s upbeat ding-dong rang through my house. This was it. This was the moment I got my life back on track. I made idle attempts at getting in shape, but my rigorous diet and exercise plans rarely lasted a week. I knew I couldn't do it myself. No matter how I pretended, I lacked the motivation. Paul had always been my guide. Now, he… he wasn’t.

Gyms didn’t work either. They cost a pretty penny and my wallet was already hurting. I’d made too many mistakes after things happened. My savings was dedicated to keeping the house. I couldn’t add much on top of that. Fortunately, this mystery trainer wasn’t much. He even mentioned that the first session was free, which was a godsend for me.

I paused at the door, a little concerned. The guy had no reviews on yelp. No presence outside of the private twitter he DM’d me from. If he was legit, why was he trying to find new clients from twitter of all places? My mother’s warnings of axe murderers rang through my head.

With a mental shrug, I opened the door. The axe murderer already had my address.

The first thing I noticed was that she was barely five feet. And young. I’d been expecting some dude barely in his thirties, not a girl barely in her teens. Her reddish hair was ponytailed back and she wore some designer leggings and a plain tank top. A large black duffle bag lay at her feet. She glanced up from her phone, with no acknowledgement of my surprise, and turned the screen to me, showing my rather short twitter conversation with the trainer.

“You Cade?”

“I, uh, yes. You’re Charlie?” I tried to indicate the sheer surprise in my tone.

“Uh-huh. Pick that up,” she said, tapping the duffle with her foot. “You got a yard?”

“Down the hall, through the kitchen.”

“Perf.”

Without another word, Charlie stepped past me and disappeared into my house. Slowly overcoming my bewilderment, I stooped to grab the bag. It had been a long time since I last worked out my, well anything, but especially since I worked out my upper body. I did not expect the bag to be so heavy.

With several sounds that should never come out of anyone’s mouth, I managed to pull the bag a couple inches off the floor and waddle my way out to the yard. Charlie leaned against a tree, casually eyeing me as I stumbled through the glass doors. Rolling her eyes, she walked over to me and grabbed the bag from my hand. With one hand, she swung it over her shoulder and with the other she motioned for me to follow.

The immense weight was replaced by immense embarrassment.

“Do you parents know you’re doing this?” I asked.

Charlie laughed. “What?”

“I mean, isn’t a little, uh—” I paused, trying to find the right words — “dangerous? You don’t know who I am. I could be some weirdo.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

Charlie shrugged. “Then I don’t see a problem.”

“Yeah, well, what if I—” I didn’t get to finish my sentence. Somehow, in the middle of it, I was on my back and the air in my lungs violently exited. I gasped for breath as Charlie leaned over me, brow furrowed but smiling.

“I can take care of myself, Peter.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“Good. Let’s start with some stretching. You’re too stiff.”

The start was basic fitness stuff. She walked me through some quick exercises, including several quick dashes across my yard and several quick dashes across my yard carrying heavy weights. She was tough and, by the midpoint, I was coated in sweat. My heart tried to hammer out of my chest. I could feel my lungs burning, angry that I forced them to finally pull their weight. My breakfast threatened join the revolution. Still, I kept going.

Then Charlie pulled out the swords.

She passed one to me, along with a padded jacket and fencer’s helmet. Not that it would do me much good if she swung with all her force. The blades were dull but thick.

“Come on,” she urged. “We don’t have all day.”

I had a lot of questions. All seemed equally important. I settled on “aren’t you putting on any armor?”

“You won’t hit me.”

“Okay. Why the swords?”

Charlie’s subtle grin faded for a moment. She shook her head. “Tell me about Paul.”

The question hit me harder than anything else had. Through the black helmet, I stared at her, unable to form words. I had been very careful to say nothing about Paul after everything that happened.

I yelped as she whipped my arm with the flat of her sword. “Come on, Peter. Tell me about Paul.”

“How do you know about Paul?”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m not a dumbass. I do my research before I hang out with strange guys in their backyards. Tell me what happened.”

Mentally readying myself, I fell quiet for a moment. A moment too long, apparently. Charlie swung at me again, landing a blow on my unguarded arm before I could even raise my sword. “Alright, alright, Jesus Christ! Just stop hitting me.”

“I will when you tell me what happened to Paul.”

“I don’t know!” I finally screamed. Charlie took a step back in surprise. She glanced to my hand, seeing my knuckles white around the hilt. With a sly smile, she lowered herself to a guarded glance and nodded at me. I took my chance and swung.

“It was late when I got home. I’d been traveling,” I said. Charlie easily blocked my clumsy swipes, but stayed on the defensive. “I came home to blood. A lot of blood. It was all over the hallway and the floors and…”

“Come on. Stay focused,” Charlie said as my last half-hearted swing went wide.

“He was in the tub, coated in it. He was so pale. His eyes were so… so lifeless. I thought he had killed himself. I called the ambulance, but it was useless. He was already dead by the time I got home.”

Charlie nodded. She ducked under the wide swung of my sword and with a quick strike to my wrist, disarmed me. I fell to my knees, shoulders slumped. I was happy the mask was dark enough that she couldn’t see me crying. At least, that’s what I told myself to stave off embarrassment. 

“He wasn’t though.”

I nodded. I wasn’t even surprised at that point. She’d done her homework. “He wasn’t.”

“The police told you not to say anything.”

“They did.”

Charlie squatted next to me. She drove her sword into the ground and let the mask slip. Her green eyes were wet with tears and she sniffed loudly. “Yeah. Same thing happened to my parents.”

“Charlie,” I said softly.

“Don’t.” Her voice cracked as she spoke and she turned away. Her whole body shook and I quickly remembered that she was, despite the badass personal trainer persona, still a child. One far tougher than I. “Just don’t. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me. I need allies, Peter.”

“Allies?”

“I’m going to stop them. I’ve already gotten a couple, but there’s so many. I need people to help me out.” Charlie stood, pulling her sword from the earth. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask if you want to help. We keep training. I have others. And when we’re all ready, we kill those jerks.”

Charlie wiped the tears from her eyes, swallowing her sadness. Despite the puffy red eyes, the mask returned. She stared down at me and whether or not it was just posturing, she had the confidence of a girl on a mission.

“Yeah, okay,” I decided. I was supposed to get my life back on track.

Revenge was close enough.

#short story #gains #I think this one was a buffy fanfic actually??? #or i caught myself writing buffy fanfic and changed it right at the end

[actualfarless]

Tabula Rasa

You're a wizard, very proficient in the arcane arts, or 'science' as you like to call it. However, one day, you wake up to find you can't cast any spells and you can't seem to memorize them either. Upon further investigation, you find that all mages are suffering from the same problem...

Story below or read on Wattpad.

“A sharp mind is fundamental to magic,” Archmage Thorium said, turning back to the class. He paused, stroking his beard as he surveyed the eager young students. Introduction to Science was a required course for any mage at the college and it was the Archmage’s favorite to teach. There was something special about a fresh batch of a blank minds waiting to be filled with knowledge and skill. Clay he could shape however he wished. The tabula rasa.

“Our science is for the curious and inquisitive. Throughout this course, you will learn the basics to shape the world as you wish.” Archmage Thorium plucked the chalk from his desk, drawing lines on the board. The spell was simple, though it looked elaborate to the uninitiated, calling upon alchemic shapes that had long since been simplified. “You will learn the fundamental rules of alchemy. I will not lie; you will need to memorize more than you have ever before. The forces you will have at your fingertips are powerful and dangerous. But if you keep your wits, by the end of this course you will have mastered the basics to further your education at the university.

“By the end of your education here, you will possess the skills necessary to discover and perfect new magic.”

To punctuate his point, Archmage Thorium tapped the chalk against the board and waited a beat. Nothing happened.

Curious.

“I believe that each of you possesses what it takes to become an Archmage one day,” he recovered. Once the lecture was finished, he would confirm the alchemic symbols he drew. Surely one had been off. He had written out this spell many times before, and not once had made such an error. It was an embarrassment, but fortunately the young students did not know enough to make such a judgement.

“All you need is a sharp mind.” Archmage Thorium pulled his pocket watch from his vest. “Now go, enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Next class we will begin our lecture on the alchemic symbols. These are the building blocks to most magic.”

One by one, the students filed out of the lecture hall. A few stopped by his desk to introduce themselves, no doubt serious about the study of magic and hoping to be seen more favorably in his eyes. He did the same nearly a century ago when he took his first class with Archmage Cerium.

A few would stick around to research the science. He would remember their interest.

As the class slowly poured out, Archmage Thorium studied the symbols on the chalkboard. His problem was immediately apparent. The symbols were meaningless. Meaningless to him, at least. Each shape around the circle was familiar in the way the delusions of a dreaming mind were, but the longer he stared the less sense they made.

That was concerning.

He had prepared the spell once a year every year for the last eighty, and many more times before then. It should have been as natural to him as basic arithmetic. Yet he was slipping.

Quickly, Archmage Thorium erased the markings from the board. This was the first time that had happened, and it would be the last he was sure. He never made mistakes and he certainly was not as old as his colleagues claimed when they whispered behind his back. But it was better that they had no evidence.

Just in time too, as Archmage Europium burst into the lecture hall, moving frantically.

“Archmage,” Archmage Thorium greeted.

“Have you noticed it yet,” Archmage Europium said, disregarding pleasantries.

The two were friendly rivals for half a century until Thorium took his post as the head of the university. Now they were just colleagues. Still, Archmage Thorium was cautious.

“Have I noticed what?”

“Recite the universal laws of thermomancy. No, wait - recite just one law.”

Archmage Thorium was cautious. Thermomancy, or any of its subsets, were not something he had studied rigorously, but the three laws were fundamentals he covered much later in his course. He knew them well.

Yet he could not remember a single one.

“Why?”

“You can’t, can you? I thought as much.”

Archmage Thorium felt his heart pounding in his chest, though his expression remained stoic. There was no way Europium could know what he implied he knew, and the younger Archmage was keen to run his mouth and expose himself if there was silence to fill. It was how he lost the seat to Thorium.

“I didn’t hear the gasps of the students in your class as well. Usually the hallway is filled with too much noise and excitement. I am sure you noticed it.”

Archmage Europium took a book out of his bag, opening it to an earmarked page. With precise movements, he transcribed the spell on the pages to the board. It was an elaborate thing, filled with symbols that were, once again, vaguely familiar. As he drew, the other lecturers filed into the hall, gathering around the pair. Archmage Thorium heard their whispers and felt the paranoia weigh down on him.

Was this some set up by Europium? It was not unheard of to curse a colleague and oust them from their position, but it was illegal. Would he really risk his career just to ruin Archmage Thorium’s?

Finished with his drawing, Archmage Europium turned to the crowd that had gathered. He looked pleased with himself, which only made Thorium more nervous. “Ah, good, we’re all here. Who can tell me what this is?”

Europium tapped on the drawing, which looked like a flower with alchemy for petals. No one said a thing. Europium’s eyes settled on Archmage Thorium. “Archmage?”

“What are you on about?” Thorium grumbled.

“It’s done, Thorium. We’re done. Can’t you admit it?”

Archmage Thorium said nothing.

“Fine, then I shall be the first. I have no clue what this is. I don’t understand a single thing on it. I don’t recognize these symbols and I am willing to bet that none of you do either.” Europium paused, waiting for someone to break the silence and prove him wrong. No one did. “That’s why we are all here after Archmage Thorium’s lecture, is it not?”

A murmur of agreement rose from the others.

“Well, Archmage Thorium doesn’t have the answers. He is suffering from the same as we. This, my friends, is -” Europium picked up the book, reading aloud from the transcription - “is the tabula rasa. A blank slate. It is a spell that someone here cast. So far, it has taken our understanding of magic. If allowed to grow, it will take more. It will take all of our memories.”

The murmuring of the crowd grew louder. Panicked.

“How do we stop it?” one shouted.

“We cannot.” Archmage Europium turned the book to the crowd, tapping on the page. “There is a way to reverse the spell, but I no longer understand how to do it. None of you do either.”

Confused shouts rose from the crowd. Arguments broke out. A few ran forward, snatching the book from Archmage Europium’s, which he readily released, and attempting furiously to make notes. Through it all, Archmage Europium remained calm. He smirked at Thorium. A devilish grin that Archmage Thorium hated, though he was unsure why.

“I suggest you all write down as much as you can before your mind goes completely, then settle into retirement. It is done. Magic is no more.”

Archmage Europium settled back in the chair as the crowd dispersed, waiting until only he and Archmage Thorium remained. Thorium struggled to keep his mind on task, but he could feel the holes in his mind expand. He would not have noticed if Europium had not pointed it out. Now it was all he noticed.

Europium looked at Thorium with the same sinister smile. “What do you remember?”

“Not much,” Thorium replied.

“Nor I. But I do have one vague memory. One I wish to tell you before it fades, Archmage. I remember how we used to compete in class. How we used to compete as colleagues. How we still compete to make history. Do you remember that?”

“Barely.”

“Hmm, yes. Well, it would take hold faster in your mind, I imagine. I am sure some did not even need the help of the spell. Do you want to hear my memory? It is recent.”

“Sure.”

“Last night, I put a scroll in a lock box. I do not know if it will ever be opened again, but if it is, I can rest assured that I won. We competed a lot, Archmage, but I won. You see, the scroll has a confession. A confession of a terrible misdeed.”

“How could you?”

“You were remembered for creating new magic and the contributions you made to the science. But now all that is forgotten. You books make no sense to those who do not understand the fundamentals, and now that is no one. I, however, will be remembered. 

“History will know my name as the man who destroyed magic.”

#short story #tabula rasa #naming a story about mind wiping tabula rasa is the creative equivalent of a microwave meal #but i don't know how to cook #I wasn't gonna post this one but I didnt remember the ending and it was better than I gave my past self credit for

[actualfarless]

The Engineer And The Witch: Part III

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Story below or available on Wattpad or Reddit.

Walden wrapped his arms around Tera. She stiffened at first, hesitating to believe she was awake, then fell into her fathers embrace. Tears welled in her eyes. The stench of sweat and days unwashed stung her nostrils. The butt of a gun dug into her stomach. Still Tera clung to him. She pulled him tighter, clutching the itchy fabric of his cloak in her hands, digging into his shoulder with her fingers.

She couldn’t tell how much time passed before she finally let go. A thousand questions raced through her mind and not one managed to escape her lips. She could only stare in disbelief at the man who should be dead. A ghost.

Age didn’t suit him. The years thinned his arms and face. Tera’s father was never a larger man — not tall nor muscular like her — but now he looked frail. He shaved his thick black hair close to his scalp. A beard now lined his jaw, unkempt and streaked with grey, more grey than she remembered on her father’s face. Lines formed around his deep brown eyes. Eyes that held darkness.

Eyes that no longer belonged to her father.

The three of them stood around a table in the room above Tera’s workshop — her makeshift dining set-up when she could find time to clear it, though half-finished personal projects cluttered the space now. Tera swept her work aside and, still unable to find her voice, motioned to Cyan-2 for tea.

Mayer changed too. They sat on Tera’s unused bed, hand cupped in their chin, watching the reunion with the feigned disinterest that defined them. Their hair was long now. Tufts of brown hid the scar on their scalp. The sun reddened their face, though they otherwise looked as pale as ever. Their green eyes widened as Cyan-2 set a cup in front of them.

“I haven’t had tea since the war started,” they said.

With those simple words, the dam broke and Tera’s thoughts found sound. “Take what you want; I have plenty. It was a gift. No sugar though. Too expensive. Everything goes to the mainland first. We get the scraps if we’re lucky. Even here.”

“This is more than enough.” Mayer held the cup to their lips, eyes closed, breathing in the fragrance. “Coming back was not a mistake.”

“Why are you back?”

“We need a ship. Ports usually have them.”

“Everything here belongs to the kingdom. You deserted.”

“You think they won’t let me borrow one?” Mayer snorted at their own joke. “I thought you could help. You—”

“I asked them,” Walden interrupted. “Mayer said they knew you and I… I had to see you. I didn’t know what to expect. I’m surprised.”

“Surprised?”

“You were so young when the war started. I hoped it would be over before you graduated. I never wanted you to see this. I never wanted you to fight.

“Mayer told me about the ship. The explosion. Your leg. I didn’t think I would find you doing so well. I should have known better.” Her father smiled into his teacup. “I remember when you first met that engineer — what was his name? Ah, doesn’t matter. You came home covered in grease and so exhausted you fell asleep at the dinner table. I’d never seen you smile so much before. I carried you to bed. I still could then. You7 woke up for a moment, only a moment, and told me — do you remember?”

“I want to be an engineer.”

“I want to be an engineer,” he repeated. “You were always so good with tools. You understood things in a way I could never.”

“I broke everything I touched.”

“That’s not true. You know that’s not true. You fixed everything. Made it better. The engineer — Li, that was his name — Li told me himself. And now you have your own workshop. I am so proud of you, my Tera.”

For a moment, Tera basked in her father’s praise. His pride was not hard earned. He rarely shied from a chance to offer it, but after six years, his words filled her heart. Her clients left kind reviews, often in the form of referrals and continued service. Bann applauded her work as well. But nothing could compare to her father. His words came at no cost. He expected no exchange. Yet nothing could compare.

Her father was proud of her.

That should have been enough.

“The workshop belongs to the inquisition.”

Her father’s smile faded. “You joined the inquisition?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Coming to Port Talen was foolish.” Mayer spoke into their tea, almost too quiet to be heard. Almost.

“I was recruited. After the Eon Heart sank, I lived in the hospital. I couldn’t find work with the kingdom because of this —” Tera patted her metal leg — “and I couldn’t find work with the colonists because I belonged to the kingdom. I was alone.

“You never replied,” she said, her words now laced with bitter venom. “I wrote letters. Every day at first, then every week. I sent them through the office. I know they went with the post. You never replied.”

Eyes wet with tears, Tera met her father’s darkened gaze. Her cheeks burned with anger, yet one look at the worn lines across her face and all gave way to regret. The weight only grew as he considered her words. With a deep breath, Tera softened her tone.

“Bann — the inquisitor — told me she would look you. She told me I shouldn’t expect to see you again. I thought you were dead.”

“I should be.”

“Why didn’t you write back?”

“I never received the letters. I truly am sorry, Tera. If I could have let you know, I would have.”

“Tell her why.”

“I ran.”

“That’s not it.”

“Yes, Mayer, it is. I am a coward. I deserted. There is nothing more.” Tera’s father turned back to her. “I never wished for you to see me like this. I wanted to be someone you could admire. Someone you could look up to. I failed in that.”

“You didn’t,” she said quietly.

“I never wished to hurt you, Tera. I think the inquisition suits you. I would have stayed, if not for the war. They were good to me. They will be good to you.”

Mayer scoffed. Walden ignored them.

Tera dried the tears that stained her cheeks. “You’re not here to recruit me.”

“I deserted, but I am not a rebel. I couldn’t ask you to leave this. You’ve wanted your own workshop for so long.”

“My offer still stands,” Mayer said.

Walden continued. “I had to see you before we left. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Both of you. What will you do now?”

“Mayer and I will find a ship. We will wait out the war in the islands. After that, I don’t know. I fear I can never return to Bar Tannis again. The mainland will be too dangerous as well. We may be able to come back here. I don’t know what will happen in the colonies. When I can, when it won’t put you at risk, I will write. I promise, I will.”

“Stay the night. I’ll help. You can have the bed. I don’t use it. Stay.”

“You have a ship?” Mayer asked.

“I know someone. One of the junkers has his own ship. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to him. I’ll pay your fare. But I need you to answer something first.” Tera paused. She set her gaze on Mayer. “Why is the inquisition after you?”

“Who asked for me?”

“Bann.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her you died when the ship sank. I never thought I’d see you again. I didn’t want to put you in danger. I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I’ve heard her stories. I know the kind of people she’s after. I know why you deserted. I don’t blame you for that, but the inquisition doesn’t hunt deserters. I need to know, what did you do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Did you sabotage the Eon Heart?”

The room fell silent at the question, save for the gentler patter of rain on the workshop roof. The gas-fed flames flickered within their lamp. A scowl crossed Mayer’s face. Without a word, they rose to their feet. Their eyes were cold and sunken and hollow, sending a chill down Tera’s spine. She couldn’t turn away as Mayer peered into her soul.

When they spoke, their voice was a whisper, but in the quiet of the room, every word carried weight.

“How dare you? You have no right. You knew Gharos for what? Three months? Four? I knew him for years. I loved him for years. I begged him to leave with me. I did everything I could to keep him alive and now you ask me if I killed him. You have no right, Tera.

“You wish to know what I’ve done? Fine. I am a witch. At least, that’s what the kingdom called me when I had a different name. That’s what they called my parents too. I believed them then. They stole me from my home and took me to one of their hidden cities. They tried to turn me into one. I spent years as an apprentice to Keldan Avros. He was the one who took me from my family. He told me I was important to the kingdom. I was a child. I did not question him. I had no reason to. In all my seven years of life, I’d been raised to respect the kingdom and its authority.

“I eventually learned my parents’ fate. The inquisition slaughtered them. Keldan told me they were a danger to our civilization, that I could be rehabilitated, but they could not. That was when I first saw the kingdom’s hypocrisy. That my parents — farmers and loyalists — were sentenced to death for the same gifts that enables the inquisition. I could not kill Keldan, so I ran. That is when I got this scar.”

Mayer ran their hand through their hair, brushing their fingers over the scar.

“I met Gharos after I changed my name,” they continued. “I wanted to live in peace. I didn’t care if it was the colonies or an island or the outreaches, so long as we were far from the kingdom and its spies. But Gharos was a loyalist. I never would have joined the navy, if not for him. I would have run again. I knew they would figure me out one day. The inquisition would murder me like they killed my parents. It was worth it to be with him. Gharos was worth dying for.”

Mayer narrowed their eyes at Tera. “And you ask me if I killed him.”

“I… I’m sorry. I am.”

“Good. Then they’ve not made you a complete monster yet.” They turned to Walden. “Secrets won’t protect her. I upheld my end of the deal. Make your peace with your daughter. We leave in the morning.”

Without another word, Mayer left. Tera tried to follow, but her legs refused to move. Instead, she sat in silence with her father until the tea cooled and the rain stopped.

“They’ll come around,” her father said.

“Will they? I don’t think so. Every time I see them, they leave.” Tera sighed. “What does it matter? I had to… I had to know. Now I’ll never see them again.”

“I didn’t realize you two were so close.”

“We weren’t. I hardly saw them on the Eon Heart, but when the ship sank, they saved me. I would have drowned in the bay.”

Walden nodded. A small smile formed on his lips. “I owe them more than my own life, it seems.”

“Do you really have to go? I am doing well enough. I could house you. The war hasn’t been to Port Talen since I’ve been here. I don’t know what happened out there, Dad, but I don’t care. You’ll be safe. Please don’t leave.”

His smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“Please.”

“It’s not the war I’m running from. I am not like Mayer; I love the kingdom. It breaks my heart to see it so divided. I hope for a swift end to the war. I do wish I could stay, but I… Tera, I don’t know how I can describe what I saw. It was a monster. There is no other word for it.”

“Then tell the inquisitors. I can introduce you to Bann. She can help.”

“I can’t.”

“Hunting monsters is what they do.”

“I was with an inquisitor. Her apprentice too. I don’t remember if I told you that. They took command of my unit and pushed us deeper into the frontier. She never told us what she was looking for, not until we found it.” A wide smile spread across his lips, but his eyes didn’t change. “A temple! Carved into a mountain and far from civilization, but as impressive as any in the kingdom. We thought we found riches. The treasures in the temple belonged to the inquisitors, of course, but we thought they wouldn’t notice. Not if we only took small things.”

“Did you steal from the inquisition?”

Walden bit his lip, turning from Tera’s gaze. He nodded.

“Dad—”

“There’s more. This temple, this place… It is not what you expect. It is no place of reverence. The halls were quiet. Cold. Even at noon, I could feel the chill in my bones. Nothing living dared come near. No animals. No plants. Only dried roots and rotten limbs. Not even the dar hounds would approach.

“We spent three weeks in the temple while she studied it. I did not understand the evil I felt at first. I felt it in the air, something that seeped into my skin and chilled my bones. Shadows lurked on the corner of my vision. Not just mine. My fellows said the same. We heard voices too. Whispers from the darkness. I thought if we returned the gifts, they would leave us alone. I wish I hadn’t been so naive. So far from civilization, so worn down, I knew the stress would ruin us. I tried to tell the inquisitor, but I was too late. I could not stop the violence. I… I could not stop myself.”

Hunched over the table, Walden clutched his head in his hands, nails digging into his skull. Tears stung his eyes. He drew ragged breaths. “I killed them.”

Tera wanted to comfort the sobbing man at her table. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to whisper soothing words and ease his burden like he had done for her so many times. But her legs and arms would not listen. No kind words left her lips.

“I felt it in my mind,” he continued. “I cannot describe it, cannot imagine its features, but for a time, I could see its face. I knew it was there, yet I could not resist. It was like a dream — a nightmare, but I was awake, a prisoner in my own body. They died in my arms. I saw the life drain from their eyes.”

Tera stared into her teacup, swirling the dregs around, lost at what to say. Her words seemed inadequate. Nothing she could do would help him anyway. There was no bully to punch. No machine to fix. Only her father’s guilt.

“I hear them still. I hear them scream. I hear them weep. They speak to me when I sleep. I… I hear shadow too. It’s quiet compared to the others, but it’s there.” Walden sniffed. He dried his eyes on his sleeve and strained a smile, though it faltered a moment later. The darkness never left his unfocused eyes. “I’m sorry. This is not your burden.”

“We can find someone to help. There are doctors who understand this sort of thing. Stay. Please.”

“I endanger you.”

“Bann will keep us safe. If you tell her— she won’t care that you tried to take something. She can protect you if you stay.”

“I can’t.”

Tera tried to keep her tone calm, but the anger bubbled inside her. “Why not? I’m not afraid of that monster. I’m not afraid of you. You would never hurt me.”

“It knows me. That is why I cannot stay. Maybe once the war is done, once there is less chaos, I can return to the kingdom, but I will never be safe here.” He sighed. “I was not the only one affected. When I came to my senses, the inquisitor was there, but I felt the monster’s power in her. The inquisition cannot protect us from it. When I realized that, I ran. I dropped my rifle and I ran away from the temple until I couldn’t run any more. I wanted to escape, but I feel it everywhere now, a constant chill in my veins.”

“But—”

“I’m tired. We’ll discuss in the morning.” Walden stood, circling around the table until he could pull Tera into a tight hug. “I love you, Tera. Don’t forget that.”

And then, Tera was alone once more.

Sleep weighed heavily on Tera as she descended the steps to her workshop. Even as she wrapped her hands around her tools, vainly attempting to turn anxiety into productivity, her thoughts became clouded. Mayer she knew had secrets, long before they saved her from the ship. Her father, however… he was not the man Tera remembered. Real or imagined, the monster changed him.

Her father hadn’t died, but Tera worried he was lost all the same.

She woke to a gentle drum of rain on the roof, hazy morning light gently falling through the workshop window, and Bann. Startled, Tera nearly fell out of her chair, catching herself on the edge of the table before she hit the ground, but not quick enough to catch the tools that clattered to the ground. She flinched at the sound, booming in the morning quiet. Bann watched with a slight smile and a teacup in her hand.

“Hello, Tera.”

“Bann, I— hi.”

“Rough night?”

“I didn’t know you were coming. I would have cleaned. Cleared a table at least. Have you been here long?”

“A minute or two. I’d only asked C2 to make a cup of tea.” The inquisitor slid a small wooden box across the table. “I brought more. This is from Yultipis.”

“Oh, thank you.” Tera pulled the box close to her nose and breathed in the earthy fragrance. She sighed. A sleepy smile spread across her face. “What were you doing there?”

“My work takes me to all corners of the kingdom. It’s all very secretive, you know.”

“Yes, of course.” Tera nodded with feigned seriousness. “You would never share.”

“No, no, I couldn’t.” Bann laughed. “Well, fine, if you insist. There was a blight. When the city was first settled, the villagers burned the forest to clear land for farms. A witch saved one tree. The story is boring and the events were well before my time. Just know, witchcraft, vengeance, and the deep memory of a tree make a blight.”

“Sure, okay,” Tera said. She learned early on to accept the inquisitor's explanations for all things magic. No doubt there was more to it, but even mekanica seemed like witchcraft to the untrained. The knowledge was too specialized. “What did you do?”

“Killed it.”

“How?”

“That is not an interesting story I’m afraid. I trapped it. I cut it to pieces. I burned it. Blights are rare, yes, but they hardly a threat. A bounty hunter could do the same.” Bann sighed. “The governor is an old friend of mine. I don’t think I could have turned my attention away from the war otherwise. Not when we are so close to victory. Did you know they’ve tried to rally the islands?”

“I think I read that.”

“Action of the desperate. We broke the islands before. They were nothing but pirates and thieves. They’re no better now.”

“So this won’t affect shipping.”

“All business. The metal shortage is still a problem?”

“I’ve found a solution.”

“Scrappers then? Ah, I will ask no more. Best I don’t know.”

Whistling a tune to themself, Cyan-2 cleared the table of Tera’s clutter, replacing parts with a porcelain cup filled to the brim with tea. Tera savored the bitter taste. Tera rose to her feet, groaning and stretching and ignoring the horrible sounds her joints made. She rubbed out the soreness of her neck as she retrieved a clean cloth and toolkit.

“Have you considered buying a bed?”

“I have one.”

“Have you tried using it? It might help with… that.”

Tera laughed and shook her head. “No. How’s the hand?”

The inquisitor removed her glove and flexed her mekanica fingers for Tera to see. Aside from a scuff on the palm, Bann’s hand was spotless. Tera gently pulled on each finger, checking for resistance and feeling the articulation.

“It looks fine,” she said.

“Believe it or not, my friend, this is a social visit.”

“Oh.”

“You are much like me, when I was your age. Work consumed all, no time to relax. You know well there is always more to do than can be done.” Bann took Tera’s hands in hers, echoing the engineer’s tests with flesh. “I will tell you something I wish I heard. There is no shame in occasionally indulging your desires.”

Tera raised an eyebrow.

“What I am saying is, there is no need to hide your romantic interests from me. I know they lean cold-blooded. I do not judge.”

Tera’s face flushed. She pulled away and coughed tea into her hand. “I don’t… my ‘interests’ are tall and strong.”

“And it must be hard to find someone taller than you.” Bann passed Tera a cloth to clean herself. The porcelain hardly made a sound as she set her teacup down. With a heavy sigh, her smile faded to a thin line and she pulled the black glove back on her hand. “So there is no one here?”

“No.”

The inquisitor narrowed her eyes. “Hm. Disappointing.”

“It’s like you said, there’s always more work to—”

“Tera, stop. I know you don’t think me stupid. You are not a good liar and you try far too often. I might have been willing to look the other way, were he an unfortunate choice of partner. But lie to me? I cannot have that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you know what the ether feels like? I doubt you do. It is cold. Not like winter, not like ice, but an absence of heat. It is irritating. It is painful. It is death that lurks beneath your skin, trying to escape, to manifest on its own. Trying to exist within you and beyond you. My order trains us to manage the cold. We learn to lessen the pain, to ignore the itch within us.” Bann rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. Any trace of humor vanished from her face. “Through that, we learn to feel it in others. That is how and why we hunt witches. So tell me, who are you hiding?”

Tera felt the urge to lie. She opened her mouth to deny, but the inquisitor’s steady gaze quelled that impulse. Bann looked the same as when Tera first met her: no warmth, no smile, only the stern eyes of the inquisition. The savior bearing gifts of tea gave way to what Bann had always been: an inquisitor.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

“Please don’t,” Tera whispered. “Don’t hurt them. I’ll do anything.”

“How can I trust that when you lie to me? After everything I have done for you, everything the kingdom has done, this is how you repay us? It is a shame, Tera. I did consider you a friend.”

“Please.”

Bann shook her head. Scanning the room, her eyes rested on every possible hiding spot until her gaze fell on the loft. She smirked.

“At least someone slept in your bed. You can come out now,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “There is no point in hiding anymore.”

Bann drummed her fingers on the hilt, each finger a second on a clock, ticking down and down and down, timing the silence until a minute passed. Then another. Even with the rising storm outside, rain now joined by howling winds, Tera could only hear the sound of Bann’s mekanica hand. The inquisitor’s steady gaze never moved from the loft door, even as Tera backed away, closer to Cyan-2, though further from her escape. Not that she could flee even if she wished. She had no ship and a metal leg. Bann would find her.

The door to the loft creaked open.

Dressed in their long dark coats, Mayer and Walden stepped forward. They aimed their pistols at Bann as they descended, stopping just a few steps shy of the ground. Walden’s hand shook. Mayer’s was steady.

“Mayer Dunn, alive again I see.”

“Hello, Inquisitor…”

“Jo. Inquisitor Bann Jo.”

“Tera’s patron.”

“Yes.” Bann glanced to Tera’s father. “You, I don’t recognize.”

“Walden Bec.”

“Ah. How convenient for all my problems to come to me. You’re different than Tera described.”

“I’m older.”

“That’s not what I meant. She has great reverence for you. She told me you were an honorable man. A loyalist. She did not tell me you were a witch. Don’t deny it, Mister Bec. I see the darkness in your eyes.” The corners of her lips curled into a smile. “Do you intend to shoot me? Do you trust your aim?”

“I just want to leave. Let us go and you’ll never see me again.”

“You would let your daughter inherit your sins?”

Tera’s heart seized in her chest. A chill crept down her spine as Bann’s eyes flicked to her. The inquisitor didn’t make threats. She made a promise.

Walden’s mouth drew into a tight line. “Leave Tera out of this.”

“I would like to. She is a valuable asset. She remained loyal even when those around her failed. There had been missteps, but they were minor, or so I thought. You two lead her astray. Her treason extends only as far as the pair of you. Surrender and I might forgive her.”

“You’re holding her hostage?”

“I am giving you a chance to prove her right.” Bann stopped drumming her fingers. “I grow tired of this conversation. You are guilty. You know your crimes. Shoot me or don’t. You will die either way.”

Tera hadn’t seen the inquisitor draw her blade. She heard the gunshot. The sound thundered through the workshop. She saw the teacup shatter. Shards of white porcelain exploded onto the floor and table. But she had not seen Bann react. The inquisitor now held her blade in a reverse grip, the flat drawn across her body. She stood now in a wide stance. Three fingers of her mekanica hand wrapped around the hilt of the heavy blade. The other two fell in pieces to the floor.

Smoke rose from the pistol in Mayer’s hand. Tera’s father stared with wide eyes on the step below. Frozen by fear — or by the ether, Tera couldn’t say — Walden made no resistance as Mayer pulled the gun from his hand, cocking back the hammer and aiming for Bann’s chest.

For a heartbeat, for two more more, the room was silent. Rain collected and pooled on the roof and fell to the floor in single drops. Bann shifted her sword to her good hand and ran a finger along the edge of the wide, flat blade. She pointed it at Mayer, mimicking their stance, challenging them. But if they understood, they did not acknowledge her.

“I am old and slow,” she said, “but I am still a kingdom knight. For Tera, I will give you one last chance to lay down your arms. Are you sure you want to try this?”

“If I'm dying either way.”

Bann moved before the hammer fell and the boom of gunfire filled the room. She covered the distance in seconds, only three strides — maybe four. Her body twisted and her blade followed. A spark flashed in the room as the inquisitor’s blade met the bullet. Bann carried forward, swinging her sword in a wide arc, throwing her weight and momentum into the strike.

Mayer tackled Walden down the steps, narrowly avoiding the inquisitor’s blade as she smashed through the banister, showering them in wood and splinters. Walden landed on his arm and howled in pain.

Mayer found their feet before Bann could follow through with another swing. Darting forward, they drove their shoulder into her, knocking the inquisitor off balance. Mayer pressed their advantage. They pulled a dagger unlike any Tera had ever seen. A cupped guard protected the hilt and the blade itself was jagged and uneven, ending in a thin point.

The remains of a fractured sword.

Bann’s eyes widened at the weapon, only for a moment before she regained her composure. Tightening her grip, Bann moved to the defensive. Her movements were slower than Mayer, each swing of her heavy blade more deliberate, yet she met their broken sword every time. Their blades clashed with clangs of steel. Bann maintained distance from Mayer as best she could, leading them in a tight circle around the center of the workshop. Her eyes never left the witch.

Shielded from the fight by Cyan-2, Tera moved to her father. Walden crouched behind one of her unfinished mekanica frames. He held a pistol between his knees. His hands shook as he poured gunpowder down the barrel, spilling more on the floor than in the gun. He flinched as Tera grabbed his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He watched the fight with fearful eyes and fumbled with the small metal projectiles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tera placed her hands over his and steadied them. With a strained smile — her feeble attempt at comfort — she took the gun and tucked it into her pants. “We’ll figure this out.”

“I knew it would come for me. I knew I would lead it to you.”

“C2 will take you to the docks. You can find a boat there.”

“I’m a coward.”

“Protect him,” Tera said to the mekanica.

Cyan-2 responded with a low whistle, placing themself between the fight and Walden. Tera's father clung to the mekanica, though he'd only taken a step before reaching back and pulling on Tera's arm.

"Come with me."

"I can't. Mayer needs my help."

“What can you do? She is an inquisitor. She’ll kill you.”

“I have to try.”

The lines on her father’s face drew together and his lips formed a tight frown, but his eyes remained unchanged. No anger or sadness. No fear, even though he still trembled. Only the same hollow darkness before. He slinked back behind Cyan-2, moving in step with the mekanica as they worked their way to the door.

Mayer continued their relentless assault on Bann. Though the inquisitor’s pace slowed, her strength did not waiver. Each parry nearly knocked Mayer off balance and, though they recovered quickly, left them open to retaliation.Yet Bann never countered their attacks. She studied Mayer. Their fight became a dance, moving to a rhythm, each clash of steel a beat in the song of death, backed by the rain and thunder of the storm.

Bann watched. She waited.

She found her opening.

Bann caught Mayer’s dagger in her mekanica hand. The porcelain shattered and the blade caught on the gears and wires inside. With one hand, Bann drove her sword down into the workshop floor, sinking it deep into the concrete. Mayer pulled on their dagger, but the blade was stuck. Bann curled her fingers around the guard and yanked it from their grasp.

Bann delivered a swift punch to Mayer’s gut, and the witch doubled over, coughing. Before they could recover, Bann wrenched the shattered blade from her mekanica hand, tossing it aside. She wrapped her hand around Mayer’s collar, lifting them from the floor. They beat against her arms and jacket, but the inquisitor’s grip was too strong.

Bann balled her gloved hand into a fist and jabbed Mayer in the face. Pulling back, she struck them again and again and again until Mayer’s face was painted red with blood and their futile retaliation ceased. Mayer sputtered. Blood and drool fell from their mouth in thick strands. They crumpled to the floor as Bann released them. Even as the inquisitor pulled her sword from the concrete, they could only glare at her through blood and bruises.

Tera found her father’s pistol in her hand and rose to her feet before she knew what she was doing. She thumbed the hammer back. She hesitated only for a heartbeat, yet she saw Bann’s eyes before she felt the kick of the gun. She saw the flicker of disappointment before anger set in.

Tera missed.

She felt a chill creep up her spine to her hand. A cold that existed beneath her skin. The gun flew from her hand as Bann flicked her wrist. The cold moved down Tera’s body. She toppled. Sparks flew as the metal of her leg crumpled and tore. Screws and gears and shards of alloy exploded toward Bann's outstretched hand. Sweat glistened off the inquisitor's brow. Tera spared a glance to Mayer, broken and bleeding, and pushed herself to her knee. She grabbed a cluttered table for support and tried to stand, but fell, spilling tools and parts onto the floor.

Bann walked toward Tera. Each step was another entry on Tera's list of crimes.

"I freed you. I took you in when no one else would. I gave your life meaning."

"You can kill me. Just let them go."

"I do not want to, Tera. It is a shake they poisoned your mind. I hoped to save you."

Bann raised her sword. Her hands tightened around the hilt of the blade. She hesitated.

The rain and thunder couldn't block the sound of mechanical footsteps. Bann turned and swung, carving into Cyan-2's frame before catching on the gears of their movement, sending sparks to the floor and leaving gash of jagged steel. Wound enough to kill a man.

Wound enough to kill mekanica.

Cyan-2's exposed arc core pulsed with energy as they wrapped their hands around Bann's sword. Even as their movement slowed, Cyan-2 resisted the inquisitor as she pulled on her sword, matching her strength with steel.

Tera's hand clenched around a wrench, and, pushing off with her good leg, Tera slammed into Bann. The older woman screamed as Tera’s wrench connected with her back. Bann stumbled. Her hands slipped off the hilt of her blade.

Tera fell to the floor.

Gunfire echoed through the room.

For a moment, there was only silence. Even the storm seemed muted as Walden approached. His hands were steady. His eyes were dark. Smoke rose from the pistol. He walked with a confidence that Tera hadn’t seen for a long time.

Rich red blood soaked Bann’s shirt. Arms slack, the inquisitor fell to her knees. Her eyes flicked from Mayer to Walden and finally settled on Tera.

She spat blood onto the floor.

Of all the stories about inquisitors, few went into details on their deaths. Some claimed inquisitors couldn’t die. They lived on forever, the oldest of them far older than lizardfolk, perhaps older than the kingdom itself. Others claimed their deaths turned them into spirits and monsters, creating a need for yet more inquisitors. A few described their deaths as spectacular disasters. Storms that could destroy entire cities. Plagues that killed millions.

Bann’s death was quiet.

Walden wrapped his arms around Tera, taking her weight as she rose to her feet. The pair stood over the inquisitor’s bleeding corpse, watching, waiting for something to happen. But she never rose from the floor. The rain gradually weakened, fewer beats on the roof of the workshop with every minute until there was silence.

“I didn’t run,” Walden whispered.

“You saved me.”

“I killed them.”

“Bann— Inquisitor Jo would have… it doesn’t matter. You saved me.”

“No, not now. Of course not now. I would do anything to save you, Tera.” Her father stumbled, nearly taking them both to the floor. Pausing to catch his breath, he led Tera to Mayer. “She wasn’t the first I killed. I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay.”

“I couldn’t control myself. I tried, but it was inside my head. She tried to stop me. She should have stopped me, but I… I killed her. That is the truth. I turned my fellows against the inquisitor. I killed her apprentice. Then I left them all, sealed them in the temple, and offered them to the monster. A sacrifice so that I could live.”

“I don’t care.”

“I am a murderer and a coward.”

“You are my father.”

“I am still a murderer and a coward. I betrayed the kingdom. I betrayed the inquisition. I am no better than the rebels.”

“That doesn’t matter. Dad, I loved the kingdom. I thought I was doing the right thing. But the kingdom doesn’t care about me. I would have died on the Eon Heart if Mayer hadn’t saved me. I would have died now if you hadn’t. The kingdom has tried to kill me more than the rebels. I am tired of serving a country that wants me dead.”

“Tera…”

“I have seen where blind loyalty leads. I let Gharos die because I believed we did the right thing. Mayer was right, he should have run.”

At their name, the bleeding witch stirred, coughing and sputtering and pushing themself to their knees. “Thank you. I usually am.”

They wiped the blood from their face, wincing as they did, then found their broken blade, hiding it once more beneath their coat. With a grunt, they pushed themself to their feet, though their balance was off. They lurched forward and stumbled into Walden and Tera, catching themselves on the Becs’ shoulders. They stared at the ground. Blood dripped to Tera’s boot.

“I should have left with you when I had the chance,” Tera said.

“You still can. You should.” Mayer met her gaze. “You know you cannot stay right?”

“I know.”

“They will come for you.”

“I know.”

“They won’t stop until you are dead.”

“I know, Mayer, I know!” Tera dug her nails into her father’s shoulder. Her face flushed red. “I did everything right. I served the kingdom without question. They took my leg, took my friends, then cast me aside. It’s not fair. I was happy here, you know? I was happy.”

“I am sorry..”

“We never should have come back,” Walden said.

“No. I am glad you did. I was worried about you, Dad. I wanted nothing more than you to be safe.” Tera looked to Mayer. “I only wish Gharos was here too.”

Mayer nodded.

Tera took a calming breath and dried her cheeks on her sleeve, though neither helped her much. “Help me gather my tools. If you can find what’s left of my leg, I can rebuild it on the ship. If we can get a ship.”

“You’ll come with us then?”

Tera sighed. “I have nowhere else to go. You have saved me more than the kingdom. I owe you. I will make it up to you.”

“You already have. I did nothing Gharos wouldn’t have done for me. Did you know, he told me you saved him on the ship. Before the captain decided his glory was worth more than his life. The first time the engines failed, before you knew what state the Eon Heart was in. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, Tera. Thank you.”

“I… I wish I could have done more.”

“We should leave,” Walden said. “Someone must have heard the gunfire.”

“It would be bad to be caught with the inquisitor’s corpse,” Mayer agreed.

Walden tightened his grip on Tera, pulling her weight onto him in a sort of half hug. “Are you ready to leave?”

Tera nodded. Leaning on her father for support, she left her workshop. No longer a member of the inquisition. No longer a soldier. No longer an engineer. Nothing more than a traitor to the kingdom.

A title she now wore with pride.

#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa its done #finally #I wrote the bulk of this since part 2 #edited everything in december #and then wavered on the last conversation for 4 fuckin weeks #This is the best I got #I hope its fine #my brain is fried

[actualfarless]

Summer Fling

Death refused to even look at you before reviving you. This is the 97th time you've died in 40 years. You unknowingly had a short fling with Death, while in human form, and when things got weird you ghosted her. Now she won't let you die and things get more complicated every time you come back.

Story below or read on Wattpad.

“Look, Diana, can we talk about this?” I asked the nurse, rising from the surgery table. I ignored the rest of the panicked medical staff. Some of them tried to push me back down on the table, not knowing what else to do. The others backed away with wide eyed fear. I didn’t blame them. I freaked out the first few times it happened to me, too.

Things were dull after the 98th attempt at life.

Diana ignored me as she marched out the doors. This happened every time. Almost every time. Something stupid would happen - like now, a cut in the wrong place by my heart - and she would swoop in, undo the damage and just disappear before I could even ask a question.

I wouldn’t let her get away this time.

“Scuse me,” I said as I slipped around the medical hands still brave enough to hold me back. I had a few minutes before the pain or anesthetic would kick back and, God, I hoped the latter came first. But I had even less time until Diana disappeared. I wasn’t sure what the extent of her magic abilities - and I decided it was magic for sure after spending my thirties researching it - but I wouldn’t be surprised if she could teleport away. Afterall, she always found her way to me in just a couple minutes.

Stumbling out to the hall, ignoring the people screaming at my gaping chest, I hurried after her. Diana walked at an infuriating pace. Just fast enough to keep her distance, but just slow enough to stay in eyesight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was-

Oh my God, it was deliberate. That was just petty.

She ignored my calls as she waited for the elevator. But I had her trapped now. With a burst of speed one might call surprising for a woman in her fifties with her lungs half spilling out, I charged at the elevator, slipping in just before they closed.

Diana didn’t look surprised. She looked annoyed.

“Ha!” I said triumphantly from my position on the floor. I never considered myself gifted at interior design, but the red splotches of blood seemed to accentuate the tiling quite nicely.

Or maybe that was the drugs coming back.

I hit the stop button on the elevator, locking Diana in with me. Unless, of course, she did have magic teleportation powers.

“Look, Diana, we need to talk,” I said from my spot on the floor. Standing seemed particularly difficult at the moment. “You can’t keep doing this. Yeah, I appreciated the second, third, and tenth chance at life. But I think the universe is trying to compensate at this point. Don’t you see the damage you’re causing?”

Diana’s focus was on her phone, texting away, probably to whatever being gifted her powers. Only the subtle side-eyed glance gave any hint that she was even listening. But, hey! That was progress.

“Do you know how hard it was so send Wendy away? We built a life together! And I thought that maybe, just maybe, if I convinced her to go, you would leave me alone. But you won’t.”

Nothing.

“I’ve died three times already this week. Do you understand how rough that is?”

Still nothing.

Pushing against the wall and using every ounce of strength I had, I slowly stood, hoping that I could be somewhat on eye level. Hard to do when her eyes were purposefully looking the other way. “Diana, I made a woman who loved me, who was willing to accept this crazy thing that keeps happening to me - I made that woman leave so I could protect her. If you’re upset with me or obsessed with me, I don’t care. But you keep bringing me back, and things keep happening.”

Diana walked over the elevator buttons, examining them in silence. I would have thought she was mute, but I heard her talk before. I remembered her voice being soft, but I barely remembered it at all. Almost a hundred deaths and forty years would do that.

“Diana, four hundred people died in that plane crash. Children died.”

Diana’s grip tightened on her phone. At least she wasn’t completely heartless.

Not like I was gonna be if I didn’t get my chest patched up ba-dum-tish.

“Diana, please,” I said, struggling to keep to my feet. I could feel the numbness creep its way up my legs. When whatever magic she used faded, it went fast. “Please just let me die.”

Without a word or even a glance to me, Diana pulled the button. The elevator moved, I fell, and the world went black.

The first thing I noticed was the beeping. Then the softness of the bed. Then the realization that the bed wasn’t that soft and was actually sorta uncomfortable. Finally, I opened my eyes to a hospital room where a worried looking nurse slowly filled the water in my vase. She stared at me with wide eyes as I slowly shifted in bed, clearly wanting to ask some questions but probably afraid my chest would spring open if she did.

I flashed her a smile. “Probably should’ve used some more anesthetic, right?”

Without giving me the laugh I deserved, the nurse hurried out of the room, leaving me to my white hospital walls, violet violets, and old polaroid.

The dread set back in. The three girls in the picture were laughing in the water at a lake. The water was the kind of crystal blue you just can’t find anymore and, even faded as it was in the picture, it looked so clear and inviting. Diana had her arm wrapped around me, her hand on my waist. My sister splashed us both.

It was the last good memory I had of her.

That was practically my last memory of her period.

It took me years to wake up without nightmares from that crash. I still had them sometimes. Flashes of me standing there in a daze, unable to do anything but watch in horror. That was the last time I took a trip to the lake. The last time I even visited the state. I blamed myself for not taking the time to say goodbye. Too afraid to admit to my parents what they already knew. But if I had, we would have missed the light, just barely, and the truck completely. I was told by everyone that it was a miracle I survived, but it felt like a curse at the time.

I didn’t expect the curse to follow me.

I turned the picture over. There was no date. No names. Just a heart and a single word in my gel-inked handwriting. A single broken promise.

Always.

#short story #death #i remember really liking this one a lot when I wrote it #another from 2019 #all im saying is if I fucked death #i wouldn't let them slip away ya know? #then again theyre unable to move on after forty years so maybe they got some stuff to work on #okay i like that tumblr lets me ramble about the stories with a buncha nonsense #i remember reading a reddit comment about how they didnt get the ending #and thats fine #but the intent was Diana saved our protag from the car crash even after our protag was too cowardly to end her summer fling properly #even after our protag said they would always be together #look im not saying i did it well #but all the reddit stuff is done when im very sleepy and without edits

[actualfarless]

The Prophecy Girl

You are the chosen one, or so you were told. You find more and more evidence that they may have lied to you

Story below or read on Wattpad.

Throughout the centuries, The Society of Seven managed to maintain their secrecy. Always in the background, they stole influence in politics and amassed a fortune large enough to fund their activities, but never once fell caught the gaze of the public.

That was all by design. The society was founded on the end of the world. Some ancient evil would rise up to start the apocalypse and only a chosen hero could save us. Information was on a need to know basis and the public didn’t need to know.

But as time passed and the world grew smaller, the secret was harder to keep. The number of potential apocalyptic threats rose, and time was running out. The Society of Seven needed to find its hero.

That hero, they decided, was me: Veronica Aubrey Langdon IV. Ronnie to my friends. Aubrey to my mom. The prophecy girl to the society.

Allegedly.

I’d been with the society since I was a child, training the the standard apocalypse prevention skills: swords, magic, stage magic, math (gross), and gymnastics. As the years went on, I slowly learned more and more about the society and the old castle they called home. Slowly they revealed more and more truths to me and, finally, on my twelfth birthday, they told me about the prophecy.

Then I took the test.

“Now, Ronnie, I know you’re nervous,” Dr. Blake said as he led me down the steps to the castle’s catacombs. Even with the flickering torchlight, the darkness obscured his face, but his soothing English accent was enough to calm the thunder in my heart a bit. “We’ll all be on the other side of the gate. If it becomes too much, just scream and we’ll be there. Hold still.”

I nodded to him, rolling up my sleeves. Dr. Blake offered me a kind smile as he administered the shot. He slowly swung the gate shut. My heart rate quickened again as he turned the key in the lock.

“Good luck,” he whispered.

Then the world went dark.

Once I woke up again, I was back in my bed with a broken arm, one less tooth, and a destiny. I passed. I was unquestionably the hero in the prophecy. My training became more intense. I dealt with more supernatural threats (not the world ending kind). I felt stronger.

Way stronger.

Saving the world involved more cuts and twisted ankles than TV led me to believe, but every time my body seemed to heal a little faster and Dr. Blake was always there to tend to my wounds. For a while I saw him on an almost daily basis.

Twice a year, he’d take me down to the castle’s catacombs to repeat the test from my twelfth birthday. He always had a soft smile and a good sense of humor as he administered the shot, but as the years went on and my training continued, I noticed the sadness in his eyes. The older I got, the more concerned I became. Something was off.

When I was sixteen, I learned the truth.

I woke up the day after my birthday with only a bruise and all the teeth from the day before. My body ached, but it was dull and easily ignored. Dr. Blake and my mom stood by my bed, talking in hushed whispers. My mom shifted toward me as I slowly woke, but I kept my eyes shut. For a moment, they didn’t say anything, waiting until they were sure I was asleep again.

I wanted to call them out, but I knew I’d never learn whatever secret they were hiding that way. I shuffled slightly, convincing them I was just turning in my sleep, and focused on their conversation.

“I have to tell her,” my mom whispered. “I should have told her the moment I found out. I spent my life on the society. Aubrey shouldn’t have to.”

“Veronica, please,” came Dr. Blake’s reply. It was weird hearing my mom’s name. I always just called her ‘Mom.’ “Please just give me some time to figure it out.”

“We don’t have time. If the world’s going to end, then at least my daughter can live an ordinary life. She can stop doing these psychotic tests.”

“It might not.”

“You heard him, Henry.” I almost sat up at that. I assumed Dr. Blake’s first name was Doctor. “My grandmother failed. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” I asked. I heard enough. They’d have to answer my questions. I sat up in my bed, crossing my arms.

Dr. Blake and my mom turned to me with quiet surprise. My mom’s worried expression was quickly replaced by fake warmth. Dr. Blake tried, though he struggled to maintain the mask as well.

“Aubrey, you’re awake. We were just talking about breakfast. What do you want?”

“Answers.”

“How are you feeling, kid?” Dr. Blake asked.

“Well enough to kick your butt if you don’t answer my question.”

Dr. Blake and my mom exchanged a glance. With a sigh, my mom sat on my bed, gently patting my leg. Dr. Blake locked my door and, for safety, stuck a chair under the handle. He pulled the blinds as well.

“What did you hear,” my mom asked quietly.

“Enough. I know something’s wrong. Just tell me. I hate that no one will tell me anything. How can I save the world if I don’t even know what I’m saving it from and no one will ever tell me what’s going on. I…” I took a deep breath. I slowly relaxed my hands. “I just want you to stop keeping secrets from me.”

My mom slowly nodded. “You’re right. Aubrey, when I was twelve, I took a test. I don’t remember it very well - I’m pretty sure I blacked out - but when I woke up, a member of The Society of Seven told me that I was the chosen one. They said I would save the world from some monster and began training me. The same training you’re doing. I was the girl in the prophecy.”

“But… I’m the chosen one.” The words fell stupidly out of my mouth, but the news hit me hard. Either the society had lied to me and was forcing me to  go through training for no reason, or they lied to my mom.

“That’s what I said when they told me about you. I spent years training for a threat that never came. They told me they were wrong about me and that you would be the one who’d save the world. So I let them train you.” Tears welled in my mom’s eyes. That hit me harder than any punch ever had. “Aubrey, I’m so sorry.”

I gave my mom a hug. I couldn’t punch her sad, and I honestly wasn’t great at magic, but a hug seemed like it would work. I knew I’d feel the same if someone told me I wasn’t going to save the world after I spent my entire life training for it.

I slowly released the hug as the thought ate away at my mind. Someone already had.

“There’s more,” I said flatly.

My mom looked to Dr. Blake. Dr. Blake sighed and nodded.

“The society’s training is meant to make your body stronger, but not just so you can handle these monsters. Twice a year since you were twelve, they’ve been channeling magic into your body. That’s what the test is. That’s where your strength comes from.”

“I’m strong because I’m the chosen one.” I knew what was coming.

“You’re not the chosen one, Ronnie.” There it was. Even though I knew it, it still hurt to hear. Dr. Blake didn’t give me a chance to recover. “The society’s been trying to turn you into her so you can complete the prophecy, but the truth is, they’re just hoping you’ll somehow succeed. The prophecy isn’t about you.”

“Then who is it about?”

“Veronica Aubrey Langdon. The first,” Dr. Blake clarified. “Your great-grandmother. She was supposed to defeat the beast. She did fight it. She wounded it. But she didn’t kill it.

“She failed.”

#short story #the prophecy girl #for those keeping track that two stories that are basically just the title of buffy episodes and one thats basically just buffy fanfic #think i was rewatching the show in 2019?

[actualfarless]

Cat’s Eye

You are an oracle whose predictions have always come true. You've recently received a vision of an impending apocalypse and are desperately warning everyone you see. The problem is, you're a cat, and everyone thinks your desperate meowing is "so adorable."

Story below or read on Wattpad.

“It is a curse.”

I didn’t always believe that. When I was a mere kitten, I bought into the lies others told. They proclaimed me blessed. My brothers and sisters said I controlled destiny. Whatever I said, reality made real. I was a god among mortals.

I was wrong.

“A terrible curse.”

I couldn’t save them. I warned my family of a cold winter, worse than any we had ever seen. I warned them of the famine that followed soon after. The invasion after that. The visions would come to me in my dreams, growing more and more real with each passing day, and no matter how I tried, I could not change them. When the first snow fell, my family begged me to dream of sunny days.

I could not.

“No matter what I say, you will not listen.”

I could not bear to watch my siblings die once more so, in my great cowardice, I ran. I ran from the woods we called home, past the great river Mother warned me to never cross, beyond where the sun rose into the sky. My heart was heavy and I cursed myself for not helping them, but even as the world changed in unimaginable ways, I dared not look back. I knew I would be too weak. Their deaths would break me.

“You will stand and stare and do everything but listen to me.”

My sight protected me in the unfamiliar world. Great structures of concrete rose higher than any tree. Metal beasts owned the paths, stopping only for the others and their masters. The whole place stank of death. At times, I wished I had remained in the forest to starve with my family. I survived off scraps and trash and the discarded remains of those that did not heed my warnings. It was not befitting a god. Not befitting a cat.

I deserved it.

“So, if I must die, then so shall you.”

I would have lived as a scavenger in the gutter had my sight not bestowed upon me a terrible vision. I saw the fate of something far larger than my street, my town, my forest. A catastrophe so large I could hardly comprehend it. I saw the land split and consumed by fire. Animals fleeing the wall of flame only to turn to dust.

I saw the end of the world.

“Our fates are intertwined. What happens to one will happen to the other.”

That vision, terrible as it was, reminded me of my destiny. I stank. My fur clumped together in spots and fell off in others. I was a mess. But my appearance did not matter. That I had fallen so far from my godhood did not matter. I took to the streets, warning any who would listen and many who would not. Cats. Dogs. The great metal beasts, when they rested on the side of the road.

Even humans.

I told them no matter how many. I told the ones who fed me. The ones who pet me. The ones who greeted me and the ones who simply walked by me. I even told the ones who kicked me, though at a great distance. I did not care about the status of my audience. How could I - a fallen god - judge them?

I only asked they heed my words.

“I will try. I will try every day to save you. But your response will always be the same.”

They did not listen.

“And if you will not listen, then who will?”

I tried and I tried and I tried and they did not listen. I persisted through the seasons, even as age began to wear away at my joints and my fur turned grey. Some pretended to converse with me. I could not understand their words, not when they spoke so quickly, but I knew their tone. They did not take my warnings seriously.

Then I met Roger.

“No. I cannot save the world.”

He too was grey and scarred. I protested as he liberated me from the ground, but no matter how I twisted and clawed, he did not let go. I eventually ceded to his whims, accepting my fate. I knew that someone would silence me eventually.

To my surprise, he brought me into a life of luxury. He offered me nothing but kindness. He did not mock my words. I had food and shelter. I felt the pressure ease on my heart. Old as I was, I felt young again inside. With every passing day, I felt better. The darkness in my mind and in my heart faded. I still had visions - nightmares - but they no longer weighed on me like before. I looked forward to each day.

To my great shame, it took me months to understand the emotion.

“I cannot save you.”

I was happy.

“I have failed again.”

Roger moved the slender machine from his lap, freeing space for me, an opportunity I took without hesitation. I claimed his stomach as mine, curling up. He was warm. He was kind to me. He gave my shelter when it rained and food when I was hungry. Small comforts, yes, but enough.

He was enough.

“Perhaps my destiny is not to save the world. Perhaps it is simply to lie here with you, until it ends.”

He scratched my chin gently, sending euphoric shivers through my body.

“I could live with that.”

#short story #cat's eye #i know im biased but i really like most my 2020 stories #this one made me sad in a good way

[actualfarless]

Part II posted. Find it here:

https://actualfarless.tumblr.com/post/657026943037915136/the-engineer-and-the-witch-part-ii

The Engineer And The Witch: Part I

Cursed with misfortune, Tera Bec finds her calling as an engineer, only to be thrown into a war between the mighty kingdom and rebel colonist.

Story below or read on Wattpad or Reddit!

All Tera wanted was a quiet life. Her mother always accused her of finding trouble and Tera always cried that it chased her, no matter how she ran or hid. In school, she found herself ending fights she didn’t start, sometimes in self defense, but often in defense of others. She tried to keep her head down. She tried to behave. She tried to keep her hands at her side. But when a larger kid shoved another to the ground, they flew at him with a mind of their own and Tera had no choice but to follow.

Even outside of school, she couldn’t escape trouble. There was no fighting at home, but things still broke. Glass slipped from her fingers. Wood cracked in the furniture and walls. Pipes burst with such frequency, their landlord almost gave up on plumbing entirely. Some of the locales, mostly irate neighbors, said she was cursed. Bad luck.

Eventually, Tera had to accept they were right.

She couldn’t fix her luck, so she set to fixing everything else instead.

For many kingdom ships, Bar Tannis was the last port before open seas. Every vessel docked for supplies and maintenance, from merchant cargo craft to inquisitor warships. By large, Tera had little interest in the civilian ships, fascinated far more by the kingdom machines than sails and oars. She spent her afternoons on the docks, waiting patiently for navy vessels. The captains and their officers kept to themselves, hardly willing to humble themselves for the Port Authority, certainly not for the questions of curious children. The crew, however, were eager to talk, particularly the engineers once she learned the right questions to ask. They loved to discuss their machines and all the work that went into keeping them afloat. The engineers eagerly pointed out the difference between steam, arc, and etherium engines. Cold engines, some called the last group, though they burned as hot as any other. Conversations graduated to watching them work to assisting with repairs. The engineers joked that they only wanted free labour, but the way they guided her hands and checked her work told a different story. Their machines were extensions of themselves. Each was happy to train the next caretaker and Tera was happy to learn.

Her curse seemed subdued when she worked. No machine broke that was not already broken. No terrible news of the vessels she touched reached the shore. Not for a long time.

Engine ships were not her only training and far from the most interesting. Word spread through Bar Tannis and though few were willing to trust a cursed child, she eventually found an apprenticeship with a watchmaker and, from her, Li Shen. Engineer Shen, he insisted. He specialized in mekanica prosthetics but he found more than enough work servicing mekanica for the Port Authority. More than enough to offer Tera a holistic education. She fell in love with his work immediately. Unlike the ship engineers at the docks, almost tripping over themselves as they excitedly babbled off technical knowledge, he was quiet. Reserved. To every question Tera asked, he asked her thoughts, guiding her to the correct answer with comments and questions of his own. Engineer Shen didn’t fear mistakes like her other tutors, so long as those mistakes did not cost him money.

Tera learned quickly. Her patchwork solutions became elegant designs. Sometimes she even improved the original. Under her mentor’s careful guidance, she designed her own mekanica, a light utility robot with a passion for sweeping. She hoped it would get her out of chores, but Engineer Shen always found new tasks faster than she could build mekanica for them.

Eventually her mentor and her parents came to the same realization. Between a flurry of letters and a series of awkward interviews with grumpy kingdom officials — including her father’s boss — Tera joined an engineering school.

It should have been a celebration.

Tera never considered the possibility. She excelled in her apprenticeship, but her grades were average at best. Her curse never found its way into her designs, fortunately, but she had not fully escaped it. Her skills with a wrench kept her family’s apartment from flooding and her years of lifting heavy machinery meant most bullies bowed out of fights when she stepped in. Yet she still earned her fair share of bruises. Engineer Shen taught her how to make a protocol bypass from a tuning fork and she taught herself how to disassemble hostile mekanica one handed. Useful skills, she insisted, but nothing worthy of an engineering school, least of all a mainland college. Still, one wanted her.

It should have been a celebration.

Then a kingdom ship sank.

Tera always took after her father: brown skin, dark hair, warm eyes, and an unwavering sense of duty. He worked as a clerk in an inquisitor’s office — a place most rational citizens feared — but the moment he heard the news from the colonies, he signed up to hold a rifle. The kingdom gave him a powder gun and stuck him on a ship without further question. Tera tried to do the same, despite her parents’ and Engineer Shen’s protests that she finish her education first. She would have, had the inquisitor not cornered her.

“Riflemen are cheap,” the inquisitor said. “Engineers are not. We need you on a ship.”

Tera disagreed, but she was not foolish enough to defy an inquisitor, eager as she was to serve the kingdom. With her luck, she knew she’d graduate well after the war was done. Her father left for the colonies and boarded an eastward ship for the mainland.

Three years later, Tera Bec joined the crew of the Eon Heart as the third engineer. The ship was originally designed as a pirate hunter. She was a light cruiser, armed enough to threaten the wooden ships of the rebels and fast enough to keep pace with the quickest of them, but not so sturdy she could withstand prolonged conflict. The ship was the twin to the Eos Heart, one of the first ships she learned on. The twin to the ship the colonies sank.

The Eon Heart relied heavily on her sails to cross the great ocean. Under ordinary circumstances, Tera would have had a week to study the engine, meet her team, and adjust to the slight sway of the ship, a constant even in calm waters. But three years into a war was not ordinary circumstances. The captain departed less than two days after Tera set foot on board. He didn’t even bother to stop at her home. With Eon Heart’s speed, starvation was no risk, but Tera wished she could have seen Engineer Shen and her mother once more before leaving for war.

Tera slowly adjusted to life on the Eon Heart. The ship was nothing like the sprawling city of Bar Tannis or the campus of her college. Even compared to the ships she frequented as a child, the Eon Heart felt cramped. The passageways could hardly fit two abreast. She had to duck when passing through doorways so not to bang into the bulkhead. She shared her quarters with the second engineer, Mayer Dunn, making the small space tighter, but at least she was not trapped with the landsmen who were stuck four and six to a room.

The engineering crew on the Eon Heart was small. Despite that, despite sharing a room, Tera hardly saw Mayer. She spent most of her waking time in the engine room, tinkering with the nearly obsolete engine, recording parts in need of replacement at the next port and patching them as best she could. Mayer’s duties often had them on the gun duck or mending the rest of the ship with engine scrap. When she did see them, they seemed hollow. Like a ghost on the edge of the ether. Unlike the other officers, Mayer wore the marks of war as a heavy burden. They were gaunt and pale and their eyes sunk deep into their skull. Scars lined their chest and arms, some from engine work, clumsy mistakes while making repairs. Not all. Like Tera, Mayer kept their hair short. A jagged line of raised skin ran from their ear to the back of their skull. Tera knew better than to ask but only by the grace of their mismatched schedules did she manage to resist.

The chief engineer was a red-scaled lizardfolk who went by Gharos. She found her complaints of the ship’s cramped quarters laughable compared to his. By no means was Tera a small person, yet Gharos towered over her. His arms were like tree trunks that flexed and rolled beneath his shirt and, occasionally, not that she’d tell anyone, invaded her dreams. He wore a stern face with piercing amber eyes beneath a brow of spurs that matched the spikes along his jaw, yet he was a patient man. Friendly even, if caught in the right mood.

There was little downtime on the ship. Tera cycled from caring for the engine to standing watch and back. Her professors warned that most ships ran training drills but the Eon Heart’s captain did not find it necessary, for which Tera was thankful. What time Tera did have, she spent asleep or listening to Gharos’ stories or, if neither sleep nor the chief engineer could be found, rereading her father’s letters. She could chart his path through the colonies. Her father’s letters spoke of honor and duty.

They also spoke of nightmares.

Her father did not shy away from describing the brutality of the front. War, as he expected, was bloody. People died. If they were lucky, they died from a bullet to the heart. Maybe a sword or axe or knife. If they were unlucky, the bullet hit their leg and left them bleeding in the mud for too long before help arrived. The medics carried healing salve that sealed cuts and bruises, but healing salve could only do so much. Less when the medics had to water down the supply to make it last between supply runs. Cities changed allegiance monthly. A town the kingdom rescued one day could be a trap for a retreating battalion the next.

Monsters lurked in the darkness.

Her father described them as shadows born of the ether. He saw them on the hills at dusk and dawn, but they disappeared in the night, even under the light of the moons and stars. People vanished with the morning light . No one could tell if they defected or were picked off by the shadows. To be safe, he wrote, he slept with a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other.

Worse still, rumour spread that colonies bolstered their forces with witches. Tera’s father had not seen any witches himself, but he mentioned an inquisitor now led his battalion, driving them deeper into the colonies, almost to the edge of known land. He mentioned stories Tera already knew, whispers of their abilities that followed them through the kingdom. Rumors claimed they could control weather and animals and even other people. Schoolyard myths claimed they manipulated the ether itself. The way her father described the inquisitor, she seemed inhuman, but if that kept him safe from witches and monsters and the colonial army, Tera wouldn’t worry.

Not that there was anything she could do for weeks.

The Eon Heart found the war well before she hit the colonies. Tera awoke to the thunder of guns — the drums that matched her beating heart. The ship shook and shuddered as a series of cannons battered her sides, leaving dents and a small scar in her hull. The sulfurous smell of gunpowder filled the air. Frantic shouts echoed down the passageways, intercut with the ringing of the alarm bell and return volley. Tera stood paralyzed in the engineering quarters, her thoughts muddied, until she felt a hand on her back push her out.

“Engine room,” Mayer said.

Training took over instinct and she followed them down the hall, stepping aside for every gunner and rifleman that ran down the passageway. Spending most of her time with Gharos, Tera hadn’t realized the youth of the Eon Heart’s crew, but as each passed, wearing ill-fitted uniforms and looks of equal parts excitement and fear, the truth was unavoidable. Few on the ship were as old as Gharos or Mayer. Few were even as old as Tera, barely graduated from her college. The difference was only a few years but they were little more than children.

Children with rifles.

Tera felt the tingle on her skin before she was through the door. Her hair frizzed and stood on end. Ordinarily, the engine room was quiet. The only noise came from the primary engine, always idle and waiting, humming to itself. Now with the engines full bore, she could hear nothing but the arc of electricity between coils. Blinding flashes of light filled the room at irregular intervals. Mayer ran for the auxiliary engine on the starboard side. Deafened, Tera ran to her station, careful to give Gharos space as he attempted to wrangle the engine’s lightning.

Wrangling was not the term her professors used. Too unprofessional and simplistic for them, and strictly unnecessary on a well-maintained machine, a point they liked to press upon struggling students. But her professors did not have to deal with the practicality of a curse. A standard arc engine had two rows of coils, arranged in top and bottom pairs like the teeth of a mechanical monster, with a spark gap between them. Ideally, arcs only jumped between the corresponding pair. With engines running at full, especially in the cramped quarters of the Eon Heart, the arcs could — and often would — jump to adjacent coils and overcharge. To stop this, kingdom engineers installed inhibitors, limiting the power each coil could produce. When they failed, as they often did for Tera, wrangling was the answer.

Engine work was not for the weak of mind or weak of body, a common refrain from her college, and one she felt in her heart as she pulled each tooth from its insulated dock. The coils weighed more than the average mekanica and without space for assisting tools, she had to pull each by hand. Still, Tera ran down the row, flipping the priming switches once the coils were in place. At the end, she pulled the starting lever and the bottom plates slid into place. Already her engine began to hum with power. Not enough to work the engine yet, but as Tera worked the crank, blue beams of electricity jumped between the coils. She threw herself into starting the engine, breathing with every rotation the way she practiced, trying to clear her mind of everything except the motion of the work. The old metal gears needed oil, but fighting with the crank was not her problem. Even with the roar of the engines, she could hear the booming cannons on the decks above and the seemingly distant sound of rifle fire. She felt the ship shake with every shot that landed. The engines pulsed and surged. She could only hope the Eon Heart’s armor plating would hold.

Sooner than Tera expected, the auxiliary engine reached its operating power, filling the engine bay with its brilliant blue light. Were luck on her side, she could leave it be, focusing her efforts on routing power and taming the primary engine with Gharos.

But luck was never on Tera’s side.

She saw a familiar flash and the burning smell stung her nostrils as one of the inhibitors failed. Charred metal fell to the grated floor, smoldering and drawing arcs from nearby coils. Tera pulled on her work gloves — careful to tighten the straps over her sleeves — as she ran down the engine bay. She kicked the offending piece of metal to the scrap pit below, nearly tripping over herself as she did, and flipped the priming switch on the coil, disconnecting it from the charging plate. With a swift kick to the release, she slammed the tooth back into its dock. Arcs still danced on the surface, but the risk of a surge was mitigated. Tera cleared the rest of the scrap from the busted inhibitor, nearly cutting herself on the sharp edge, and chucked it into the pit. Once clear, she pulled the coil back out, locking it in place, and flipped the priming switch again.

From idle, the coils could take a few minutes to arc, but wrangling was about as far from idle as she could.

A sudden jolt of electricity acred between the top and bottom teeth as the eager coil reconnected to the charging plate, nearly blinding Tera. She felt the tingle of electricity on her skin which singed the hairs on her arm. If not for her gloves and boots, she’d be on the floor, lucky to be breathing. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was far from her first time wrangling, but the threat of death always lingered in the air. Even as she tamed one coil, another threatened to surge.

Wrangling was undeniably an art. There were no rules on how quickly a charge would dissipate. No visible cues for when she could safely pull the coil out from its dock. Wrangling relied on pure instinct. Nothing more. The coils pulsed like a beating heart and Tera fell into a rhythm with the engine. She saved each tooth moments before it surged. Her muscles burned from the effort. Sweat pulled her shirt tight to her back. But there was no time for a break. To breathe. To recover. Tera hardly had a moment to wipe her brow.

Then she saw it.

A coil on the far end of the engine row pulsed with energy, one she had only just tamed, now too far gone to be wrangled into submission. Lightning arced off it to the floor and bulkhead and, more worrying, jumped the gap between her engine and the outstretched teeth of the primary engine. Beneath the blue, Tera saw the familiar glow of a coil mere minutes from disaster. Memories of college flashed through her mind, a demonstration by her professors. Memories of the destruction caused by overheated, overcharged engines. The Eon Heart would not survive. So close, she would be one of the lucky ones, killed before she felt the heat.

Protocol dictated she cut power completely.

Tera ran down the row, flipping the priming switch of every coil she passed, but not bothering to shove the heavy teeth back in her docks. She rested her hand on the lever. Even if she couldn’t stop the surge, she could minimize the damage. Maybe save the ship.

The muffled sound of guns continued outside.

At the end of each engine bay sat a cabinet stocked with additional tools, spare parts, and protective gear. The Eon Heart’s supply was short, but she found what she needed: a spare boot, a spool of wire, and a telescoping rod used for maintenance in hard to reach areas. Tera pulled her knife from her belt, sawing at the wire until she had a lengthy section, enough to tie the knife to the pole in a makeshift spear. She plunged the knife into the boot and raced down the engine row, skipping past Gharos and whatever he tried to say. The light was too intense for her to see. Her heart beat in her ears. She slid to a stop by the coil, jamming her thumb to the pole’s release. Either she would save the ship or she killed everyone on board.

The pole sprang to its full height. A moment later, while the boot still wobbled from the sudden force, the untamed arc energy of the coil surged into her syphon. The pole glowed red. The boot began to smoke. But she could breathe. The coil didn’t explode. The glow died enough that she could shove the tooth back in its dock. The coil would take a lot of time before she could pull it out again and her syphon would be too hot to handle, even through the insulated work gloves, but her engine was safe. The Eon Heart was safe.

Running down the row, Tera rearmed the charging plates, carefully checking each coil. If her engine threatened to surge again, she’d have to follow protocol. There weren’t enough spare supplies to build a syphon for every coil. But if her engine threatened to surge again, she’d be dead. Tera managed to stop her curse once. She wouldn’t be so lucky to do so twice.

Then the sound of guns stopped. The engineers froze, forgetting, for a moment, the buzzing of the engines. The three craned their necks to the ceiling, as if they could see decks above if only they stared hard enough. A few minutes later, the three rapid rings of the bell echoed through the engine room. All clear.

Tera pulled the priming lever, cutting power from the auxiliary engine. Her skin glistened with sweat. Now that the battle passed, she felt the exhaustion weigh on her shoulders. Walking down the row, Tera flipped the priming switch on every coil and pushed them back in their docks. The charge in her syphon still lingered, but the coils calmed. Without the thunder of the cannons or the buzz of the engines, the air felt empty in its silence. Tera slumped against the bulkhead, sliding down into a ball, head in her knees. Her heart still pounded in her chest. Her body shook from stress. She released a calming breathe, but it did not ease the tension in her shoulders.

She survived. The Eon Heart survived.

Tera wasn’t aware of the bottle shoved in her face until Gharos slumped down next to her.

“Drink it,” he said calmly. “It will help.”

Tera tossed the bottle back, drinking deeply. She spat it out the moment the bitter liquid hit her tongue and turned to Gharos with an annoyed glare.

“I said it would help. I did not say it would taste good.” Gharos kept his usual stern gaze, but Tera noticed a flicker of a smile. She grumbled and took a careful sip.

“The first time is the hardest,” he continued. “I would tell you it gets easy, but I do not wish to lie to you. I have served the kingdom for nearly a century. I have never found it easy. I remember my first time aboard a warship. I was not an engineer then. Better in some ways. Worse in many others. Be thankful you did not have to kill today.”

The lizardfolk took the bottle from Tera’s hands, draining what remained before tossing it to the scrap pit below. He settled his gaze on the syphon. “You did not disconnect the engine.”

“Sorry, Sir, I thought I would—”

“What you did was clever. I am sure we would have lost the engine without it. Who taught you that?”

“Oh.” Tera felt the pressure in her chest lessen. Relief that she was not about to be lectured. “Li Shen. Before I joined the college, I was his apprentice, working on mekanica and such. He taught me how to make a bypass.”

“That is not a bypass.”

“Same concept. Divert energy away from one point and route it to an insulator instead of a terminal. I’m just glad it worked.”

“I see.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment. Tera’s syphon still cooled, but she could see that it would not survive another surge. The boot was charred and blackened. The joints of the telescoping rod fused together. The engines themselves were no better.

“We need to stop for maintenance,” Tera said suddenly. “The engine’s going to surge again if we don’t get the inhibitors replaced. I think some of the coils are fried too. I’m sure there’s more, but I can’t think of them. Not right now.”

“We do.” Gharos released a heavy sigh. “We do, but we will not.”

“We… won’t? I thought the kingdom was winning. Aren’t there any docks in the colonies we control?”

“We control plenty. Ability is not the issue. You have noticed the captain does not run the engine at sea? Aside from this recent exception. Our gunners are inexperienced, yet he does not force them into drills. I know you have not seen the magazine, but trust that our stores are low.” Gharos patted the deck. “She’s on her last legs.”

Tera narrowed her eyes. “When was the last time you did maintenance?”

“Maintenance? You know we do that daily. But what you mean, repairs? New parts? A thorough inspection with the Port Authority? Not since before the rebellion.

“What!?” Tera jumped to her feet, the energy in her shock too much to be contained by sitting. “Why not? Protocol is every six months. A year at most.”

Gharos met her anger with the same calm he always had, but he met her eyes, unwilling to look away. “That is what they say in your schools. Scholars make the decisions there. Engineer who know how delicate our machines can be. But tell me, do you see scholars here? I am not a learned man. Mayer was a student like you once, but no longer. I see children and broken people. No scholars. No engineers. No soldiers. The captain makes the decisions on this ship. We hope on our lives they are good.”

“Haven’t we told him about the engine? We could have died!”

“We could have. We did not. That is what he asks of us.”

“So the captain does know.”

“He does. He does not care. We spend a day at port, two if we’re lucky. There is no time to requisition supplies. Not enough if we wish to fix her. Especially not in the colonies. There are few metalworkers who would take our order. None that could work fast enough.”

“Why?”

“Vengeance blinds us, Tera Bec. The Eos Heart was more than sister to our vessel. We all have loss. Or the captain is deluded enough to believe he can win the war single handed, if only we are fast enough. I do not claim to understand. I keep the engines running and the guns firing and I hope that is enough to delay death another day.

“I am sorry for whatever misfortune brought you to this ship. I cannot suggest you leave. I can ignore your exit when next we port. I would hate to lose a gifted engineer, but I would hate for the kingdom to lose you as well.” Gharos rose to his feet. His stare had softened. “When your bypass runs out of static, bring it to me. I would like to see it in greater detail.”

With a wave, Gharos left the engine room, leaving Tera alone with the unstable engine and the unbearable weight of hundreds of lives on her shoulders, a burden passed from the captain to Gharos and now to her.

Under the chief engineer’s direction, Tera refined her design for the syphon, creating half a dozen with the limited supplies available. Her original design failed during its second use, as she expected, but it bought her enough time to shut the engine down before it failed. The new designs were sturdier, less unwieldy, but Tera knew they couldn’t last forever. The three engineers clipped them to their work belts in pairs, hoping to never need them, but knowing it was only a matter of time until they had none left.

After that, the engines would fail.

By the time the Eon Heart reached the colonies, the atmosphere on the ship shifted from naive excitement to dread. A shadow lingered over the vessel and everyone within. With every battle, Tera passed fewer faces as she ran to the engine room. The ship barely held together. Mayer and Gharos patched the hull with scrap stripped from the engine. The crew bet on their own deaths, whether drowning, cannonfire, or engine failure. A common joke, they insisted, on vessels of war, but one they made sure would never reach the captain’s ears. Tera lost track of the days, counting the passage of time by battles fought.

She repeated Gharos’ words in her mind, growing more tempted with each passing day. Even when the food stores ran low, the captain pressed on, resupplying from a friendly ship. Each day the guns above thundered and the engine threatened to blow a hole in the hull and each night Tera fell into a dreamless sleep, only to wake to the roar of the cannons once more. The ship was a prison. A tomb. Death, she knew, was inevitable, but she heard so many stories of heroes — stories of triumph — that, even with a curse, she did not expect the ether to claim her in the war. Her fathers letters wrote of the inquisitors. How they prevailed against entire armies single handed. Yet there were no inquisitors aboard the Eon Heart. No heroes. Only a mad captain and his broken crew.

She had not heard from her father in some time.

Death came for Tera in the form of a balding man. The bells rang through the ship and she once more ran down the passageway, hurrying to warm the engine when a heavy hand clasped her shoulder. She wheeled to see him, an officer, one hand gripped tight on a powder gun, and by him, Gharos. The lizardfolk’s eyes wouldn’t meet her own and though the balding man barely came to his shoulder, Gharos had never seemed so small. He stood in the man’s shadow, second and subordinate.

“We need you on deck,” the balding man said. His voice was calm — level — yet he drowned out the sounds of the ship. Gunners rushed past them, no longer bothering to fully change into their uniforms. Most were unwashed. Bloodsoaked. Unfit for combat.

The officer shoved the rifle into Tera’s arms. She stared at it then to Gharos and the man, waiting for one of them to explain. Neither did. “I am an engineer.”

“Did I ask? We need you on deck.”

“Sir, if I don’t get to the engine —”

The officer pulled his pistol from his holster. “We are short riflemen and gunners. Either you will report to the deck, or I will consider this an attempted mutiny. Am I understood?”

Gharos nodded subtly. Tera followed his lead.

“Good.” The balding man holstered his weapon. His smile sent a shiver down Tera’s spine. “Chief Engineer, we should find your other assistant. We need every gun we can find.”

The officer continued down the passageway with the nonchalance of a stroll through the park. Gharos lingered until the balding man was out of earshot, then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I will keep the engines tamed as long as I can. We’re meant to escort the troopship to shore. That will be your best chance to get away.”

“Get away? Gharos, without me and Mayer, the ship won’t survive.”

“I fear the captain understands that too well. I have lived a long life. I do not mind giving it for the kingdom.” Gharos motioned to her rifle. “There is a point near the bow that Mayer reinforced. It is far from the engine and it should protect you from rifle fire. Not cannon fire, no, but rifle fire.”

He met her eyes. Tera expected anger or sadness or even bitterness in his amber eyes, but he seemed resigned to his fate. He pulled a small bottle from his jacket and offered it to her with a slight smile. “A farewell gift. I’d hoped it would be part of a celebration, but I think it will taste the same. Now go, Tera Bec.”

Gharos did not wait for her to reply. He followed the balding man down the passageway in search of Mayer.

Tera’s father wrote that the air felt different in the colonies. Lighter as if someone removed a heavy blanket. Cleaner. Fresher. He wrote of the beauty of the twin moons over untamed wilderness, great celestial bodies on a backdrop of stars. He wrote of the serenity of nature. That even in the middle of the war, even with witches, ether shadows, and other vile creatures, he felt at peace. The colonies were a magical place, capable of warming even the coldest heart.

Tera disagreed.

The smoke stung her lungs as she stepped out on deck. The air was thick with ash and embers and the screams of wounded soldiers. No moons shone over the Eon Heart. The swirling darkness of the sea below called to her, but Tera kept her boots on the deck. Gunfire drowned out the sound of gentle waves. The cannons bellowed, shaking the deck with every shot. Tera ran for the bow. She nearly slipped on the slick mixture of blood and water. On either side, the crew fired volleys from their powder guns before ducking beneath the bulwark to reload, two rounds for every round of cannonfire. Tera ducked behind the plated portion of the hull. The difference was subtle, likely invisible to a layperson, but the metal welded to the side was sturdier where Tera hid than anywhere else. Rifle fire pinged harmlessly off the plates.

The colony blockade formed a tight ring around the bay, a wall of ship and cannon. The colonist’s ships greatly outnumbered the kingdom’s but they were all made of wood. No armor. No plating. Most were not much larger than the Eon Heart. Smaller than the rest of the kingdom fleet by far. A wall placed cannon shot could carve a hole through their hulls. Even rifle fire splintered the wood. With time, the kingdom would win the skirmish at sea. Yet the fleet formed a tight arrow around the troop ship, flying toward the blockade as though loosed from a bow.

With the power of its engine, the Eon Heart surged ahead of the rest of the kingdom’s force. The wind nearly took Tera’s gun from her hand as she peaked over the bulwark. She realized all at once and far too late the captain’s plan. The Eon Heart rammed her bowsprit into the side of the largest kingdom ship. The crash flung Tera from her feet and from her safe spot. She grunted as she hit the deck. The impact forced the air from her lungs. Her head spun. The Eon Heart tore a hole through the side of the colony ship and both nearly rolled over before settling back to back down, interlocked, ship within ship. Screams echoed through both ships. Around Tera, the crew of either vessel traded their rifles and cannons for hatchets and knives, charging across the splintering decks, eager to fight to their last breath. Tera struggled to her feet and felt a jolt of white hot fire surge through her leg. She grabbed the bulwark for support, and limped forward to join the rest of her crew, every step igniting the fire once more.

A colonist lizardfolk jumped in front of her, as tall as Gharos, but lean with eyes of venom. He gripped a hatchet in either hand, charging toward Tera with a sound somewhere between a hiss and roar, unintelligible but full of fury. Tera shifted her weight to her good leg, shouldering her rifle. She pulled the trigger and a deafening sound rang out, but if she hit the lizardfolk, he didn’t stop. Screaming through the pain, Tera swung her rifle at him like a club, throwing her weight and strength to the hit. The lizardfolk slammed into the bulwark, painting it with a streak of blue blood, and dropped his hatchets. Tera fell to her knees beside him. The pain of her busted leg winded her. From her knees, she swung again, catching beneath the colonists scales and splintering the wooden stock on his face.

Tera scrambled for one of the dropped hatchets, raising it above her head to deliver the final blow when she felt the air shift. The hair on her neck and arms stood on end. Then, before she could so much as shout a warning, a brilliant light filled the sky and the Eon Heart exploded into shrapnel.

Tera fell into the darkness below.