When Kalos and Grimm stepped out into the misty, morning air, a cool, crisp breeze immediately sent a chill down their spines. Everything blazed under a swath of radiant light from the eastern sky. Together they stood admiring the view.
“Come, Kalos, we’ve much to accomplish before midday.”
“What do you need to buy?”
“Oh, just a few things for our next trip.” The impact of what Grimm said on Kalos’ psyche was only amplified by his overly casual tone.
Kalos jumped in front of Grimm, intercepting his gaze, “To Port Blefcynn?”
The older man’s lips curled into a rare, mischievous grin, “Now why would you think that? I’ll be visiting old Barnum later. Maybe I need a few things for that arduous journey?”
“Da! He lives in the middle of town. We haven’t been there in years. Are we really going over the mountain?” Kalos could hardly contain his excitement.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about...” Grimm’s expression betrayed his attempt to play dumb.
The caravan from the night before was still parked along the main road, where it would radian remain for several days until finally concluding all ceremonies. By the time they arrived, a crowd of villagers had already gathered to attend.
Kalos was always surprised to see just how many people actually lived in Ark despite being such a small village. Everyone was talking, drinking, and laughing excitedly while they waited for the fair to begin.
Suddenly a scream erupted from the far end of the crowd, silencing everyone at once. A wave of gasps poured forth as strange lights pierced the sky through a trail of blistering flames. Howling continuously like some sinister demon from which none could hope to escape, the phenomenon increased speed all the way to the apex of its ascent, where it finally fizzled to nothing.
Like some unknown god was toying with them from on high, a thunderous boom suddenly echoed throughout the encampment as crackling, white sparks that exploded in every direction, making everyone jump with fright.
Within seconds the large, white blossom of light faded entirely to smoke and ash. A strange odor that reminded Kalos of rotten eggs gently settled upon the crowd.
“Welcome to the Mercari Fair!” rumbled a deep voice.
“Here you will find wonders beyond your wildest dreams! From stories of dastardly deeds done by the deviant ghost-demon Aelfain the Traitor, himself, to tales of the most harrowing sacrifices made by the greatest heroes you have never heard about will you be apprised!“Also, legends old and new from the rule of the Wise King to the Golden King of Sultra far beyond the Southern Crossing shall you hear, today. And as if this were not enough, our fine Mercari kinsmen are offering unbelievable discounts on their most exotic goods to commemorate the occasion!”
Kalos heard a snide remark from somewhere behind him, “Yeah, the ones that are about to spoil I bet.” Another person snickered in response.
The announcer’s startling theatrics continued without a hitch, “Heaven pity those who are not here today, for hell is the only realm from which you will find nothing to purchase on discount among the vast horde of treasures we have brought for your buying pleasure! Again, I bid thee welcome, o ancient friends, welcome to the Mercari Fair!” Everyone who had been listening came to life again with some clapping and cheering while others instead chose to rudely heckle the speaker from somewhere in the crowd at random.
“While it is true that without Ark there would be no route from the Southern Crossing to Port Belfcynn, if these merchants were even a fraction more trustworthy than they are, they’d be sailing the entire journey rather than taking ancient routes like ours. No ship’s captain in his right mind would ever allow the Mercari caravan aboard their vessel for any significant period of time,” Grimm confided quietly to Kalos.
“I’m going to see if I can find a decent trade or two.”
Kalos was only half listening to his father’s words for several paces ahead stood a sultry vixen about the same age as he, fully fixated on him through the crowd. She followed his every move with dark, enticing eyes from near one of the Mercari wagons. An expression of desperate interest danced upon her face, beckoning him near without so much as wiggling her finger his way. He nearly stopped breathing as he slowly examined her from head to toe.
She wore a small, black, thin-knit top, which revealed most of her smooth, supple midriff, and was ornately decorated with beads and coins of various shapes and sizes. Also, a long, black-panel skirt that covered her legs all the way up to her thighs made him stare a little longer than he should’ve. Above her knees were sewn two slits just wide enough to reveal a sliver of skin on either side. Delicate, knotted fringes full of beads and coins to match her top framed her perfectly smooth hips. Bare toes peeking from the hem of her garment added yet another layer of mystery to her seductive features. Her entire outfit had been carefully situated for the sole purpose of causing interested persons to salivate over what the gut be hiding underneath.
A heavy hand fell on Kalos’ shoulder, startling his attention away from her. Grimm cautiously eyed the girl while leaning close to Kalos’ ear.
“Always trust your gut,” Grimm’s irises briefly skittered over the seductress as he lowered his voice even more to drive the proverb deeper into Kalos’ mind, “except when it comes to money and women.”
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Grimm lightly patted him on the head and stepped back to enjoy the open space that had formed around him as a result of people moving toward the sellers’ wagons where the merchants had just opened-shop.
“Will you be alright on your own for awhile?”
Kalos forcefully tore his gaze from the girl’s figure one last time before responding, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He noticed the girl quickly turn her attention toward a much older man who happened to be walking by that very moment, and instantly snare him with the exact same expression she had shown Kalos. The man immediately stepped closer, surrendering to her deadly charms with a dumb smile.
Grimm gave him a quick nod before turning to head toward the fair at a casual pace. Soon his father gracefully slipped into the crowd, disappearing from view like an illusion in the fog.
No sooner had he lost sight of his father than than he felt a quick stab from behind. Kalos spun to catch whoever had snuck up behind him before they disappeared as well.
“Yup, looks like I’m too good for you. You’re dead!” Nava’s crooked smile made his heart flutter.
Kalos crossed his arms, lips thinning into a straight line, “Yeah, you’re too sneaky for me. Looks like I’ll just have to go to the fair all by myself. Couldn’t afford to be seen with such a shady character.”
Nava’s elegantly curved eyes narrowed as she tilted her head just a bit. “Shady character, huh? Wouldn’t want that now would we?”
Kalos watched Nava lower her hands a little too carefully before gently brushing past him. While scanning him from head to toe, her stride grew far more lithe and catlike than he was comfortable with. Strange sensations pulsed through him all the way to his ears. Somehow he managed to resist the influence of her hypnotic movements.
Suddenly she placed one hand on her stomach and laughed out loud while covering her mouth with the opposite.
“I wish you could see your face right now,” Nava chided.
Kalos shook his head and stalked away, trying to ignore her completely.
“It’s not that funny, “ Kalos whined.
After catching up, she poked him with one finger. “Oh, but it really is.”
Nava wasn’t a mean person, she just loved picking on him from time to time much like his father did. Truthfully, he always enjoyed her attention no matter what form it came in, not that he would ever admit it.
#
The Mercari Fair had all sorts of mysteries to unravel, but Kalos and Nava soon found themselves carried away by a storyteller who had been spinning tales of far off lands for over an hour since the fair began.
“Tell me, have you heard of the Dark Assassin? The one who has slain a hundred Sultrani men? Who is said to drift like vapor from rooftop to rooftop in the night with the unhallowed grace of a strix? Who can open locks with the flick of a wrist and pass through walls like water from a fresh mountain stream?
“An apparition who has escaped a dozen cells including the Golden King’s innermost dungeons, which have been locked for decades behind three iron gates built by his father’s father to prevent the most ruthless abominations imaginable from being able to escape and wreak havoc throughout the known kingdoms.
“Well, the Dark Assassin struck again merely two weeks ago near the Southern Crossing in the glorious city of Amenset, where the Golden King of Sultra has been building a grand tower as a sacrificial altar to the gods for decades!
“Killed the King’s Chief Architect the Assassin did, a man who has been overseeing the building of the King’s tower for more than twenty years, now! Shall I reveal some of the dark and terrible secrets I have learned with you about that incident?”
Eager voices arose from the crowd like a flood, overcome with gnawing hunger to learn more about the Dark Assassin.
“Who is it?”
“Tell us more.”
“Oh, please do!”
Kalos and Nava pressed closer as the crowd tightened around them. Suddenly the storyteller gave one mighty clap with his hands that produced a single, overwhelming burst of sound which echoed louder than the explosion earlier that morning had been. Everyone froze with anticipation.
Slowly, and with great dramatic effect, the man stood with hands raised high above them all. Each vowel grew long and slow as he spoke. He intentionally slowed his words, gripping the minds of everyone in the crowd ever more tightly.
“As you wish...”
The man’s deep, resonant voice reverberated with unnatural clarity and power.
“It was a cool, peaceful evening in Amenset. Perched upon a totem carving, atop the Eastern wall of the Sul-Kiha Temple was a dark figure fully garbed in black silk with a single purple rope fastened about the waist with a gold buckle.
“Many say the Dark Assassin only appears when loyal pilgrims begin worship at certain Sultrani temples near the midnight hour.
“The nobles of Sultra swear that the Assassin doesn’t even exist for fear of the King. They say that he’s just a myth concocted by dissidents. But I say that if there is one thing everyone knows beyond the shadow of a doubt, it is that whenever his ominous image appears, verily blood will be spilled within the hour.”
The storyteller paused before sweeping his unwavering gaze over the crowd, “And this time would be no different.”
Suddenly he reached inside his jacket and carefully pulled out a dark, black cloth with something hidden underneath. He raised it high above his head like an offering before continuing.
“This is all that remains of the Dark Assassin’s exploits. This is what he used to dispatch his victims. I had to pay a King’s Ransom to get my hands on it, so look close! You will never see such proof again…”
The tall, slender man let the cloth fall gently to one side. Like some unnatural beast struggling against its own flesh, the crowd shifted and writhed as everyone tried to get a better look.
After much struggle, Kalos was able to identify a dull, black dagger without a hilt in the man’s spidery fingers shaped like a long, narrow oval. It had a crimson jewel fastened to the center of the shaft where the wielder would cling to the handle during a fight.
Kalos felt Nava clutch his right shoulder as she tried to stand up on her tip-toes to get a good look. Just as he glanced toward her, something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. The sun’s reflection off of the dull blade looked unnatural from across the crowd. He focused on the blade once again at just the right angle to see a soft, red glow emanating from within the jewel itself. Before he could if his eyes were playing tricks on him, the storyteller thrust the blade straight into the air with a growl.
“The Dark Assassin soared from rooftop to rooftop all the way to the home of the king’s Chief Architect. Like a spirit birthed from the suffering of a thousand innocent souls, he went to exact revenge.
“Minutes after appearing at the edge of the city, he manifested himself in the Chief Architect’s chambers and slew the wretch where he lay by carving the heart right out of his body before it even stopped beating. They say the cry of all the innocent victims combined, whom the king had claimed while building that accursed temple over the years, paled in comparison to the Architect’s own that night.”
The storyteller lashed out with his blade, eyes locked onto Kalos from over thirty paces away. With a roar the man suddenly lunged forward like a demon trying to cut him down from the other side of the crowd.
He wasn’t even close enough to see the shade of the Storyteller’s irises, but Kalos still trembled as though he were standing right in front of him. Fear gripped hold, rending consciousness from him entirely.
©2024, K. M. Plum, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED