Danica hurried through the dark of night, behind the shops and houses, over cobbled roads and alleys. The cool air blew south tonight from the jagged peaks, bringing much needed relief to those who were unaccustomed to the sweltering heat of a summer heatwave. She was thankful for the cooler weather finally, as were so many others.
There wasn’t anywhere in particular she was going, but it felt refreshing to be mobile again. Her leg was feeling as good as ever and she felt like running in her new gear, trying to get used to the weight. It was still somewhat restrictive, but much less so than it had been. The occasional creak could still be heard depending on how she moved. Those who preferred stealth did not make such sounds while trying to sneak around silently.
She chose a quiet alleyway and ran full sprint down it, jumping over a small barrel near the end. To her left, a pair of city watch guards walked down the streets, wholly unaware of her being so close. She stopped to study them for a moment, trying to figure out who they were. A pair of young soldiers it looked like, so no one she was wanting to associate with.
She ran all the way to the docks and looked out over the great sea before her. The dim moonlight reflected off the waves, interrupted by the occasional ship passing by, their lanterns hoisted aloof to warn the other vessels of their presence. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and she was glad for making the trip down here.
Nearby dockworkers loaded a ship with cargo, and men shouted orders all around. She thought back to the first time she came down here with Lorik and the first fight she’d ever been in. Occasionally she would wonder whatever happened to those men and if they had learned anything from their encounter with her. It was doubtful, but they’d carry the reminders with them for the rest of their lives, however long that would be.
Danica turned and made her way towards the slums, careful to not alert anyone of her presence. She reached the southern gate and looked for the guards in charge of overseeing it. She saw no one paying any attention to the occasional coming or going of people late at night. Landon had been vocal about how the men continuing to slack off could end up causing a problem, but his complaints were being constantly ignored these days it seemed.
She slipped through the passageway and continued on into the housing area for Norports poorest residents. The paved stone gave way to dirt streets, riddled with ruts and muddy puddles. The homes themselves were bunched together haphazardly, with no real planning given to their placement. Aged wooden planks, worn cloth scraps, and any other bits of debris were fashioned together into a semblance of dwellings. The air stank of poorly managed waste and the filth of people that had little care in the world.
She watched the rats scurrying around in the darkness, looking for anything edible. They darted into and out of multiple hiding spots, showing no care of her presence there. She wondered sometimes if they could see her as well as she saw them. She sighed quietly and watched as they stood on their back legs, sniffing the air.
He was out there still, hidden amongst his potential victims, and she was determined to find him and resolve their unfinished business no matter what it took. That burning desire ached within her, driving her onward to have that confrontation. She didn’t understand why, but that didn’t really matter anymore. It simply had to be, as if fate itself commanded it to be so.
“Where are you?” she whispered into the quiet night.
*****
Galen sat there in the quiet little tavern, slowly nursing the second mug of watered down ale. He’d ordered it that way, much to the confusion of the barmaid. “Low tolerance,” he laughed. He knew they didn’t really care as long as he paid the coin and didn’t cause any trouble. He even gave her a few extra bits of copper with a nod and a smile.
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He rubbed his left arm, still sensitive from the impromptu surgery he’d performed several weeks ago. He’d managed to fashion a hook attachment, similar to what unfortunate sailors would have, and kept it secure with a crude leather harness. He knew the disfigurement would stand out more, but not so much as to be too out of the ordinary.
Across the bar, an already drunk patron called out for another one. Galen watched the lone man, studying him intently. Bigger than himself, like most, but he was getting way too inebriated to effectively fight back. This one was proving to be too tempting a target to pass up. It had been way too long since he’d had the taste of a fresh kill to satiate his unending appetite. His excitement at the prospect of it welled up within him and he grinned, already savoring the thrill of it.
Patience, he reminded himself.
Some time later, the man staggered to his feet. He laughed like a fool at his own clumsiness, nearly falling into the only other occupied table in the room. The three men sitting there, sailors deep in their cups and ready to settle any provocation it seemed, readied themselves to start a fight.
Galen ran over to the man’s side and helped him up. “No need for trouble, gentleman. How about I get your next round?” He plopped a few coins on the table and helped the stranger towards the door, leaving their teasing laughter behind him.
“Who in damnation are you?” he slurred to an unexpected helper.
“You don’t remember? We used to work together,” Galen said, taking an educated gamble.
“Ren?” The drunken man laughed and nearly tripped them both while exiting the door into the darkened night. “Ah Ren, I thought you was headed south.”
Galen looked around, searching for any eyes that could be upon them. “I did, but I had to come back for some unfinished business.”
He propped the man against the wall and pulled out a small oil lamp. Everything was so much harder since he’d lost his hand and it took him a few moments, but he managed to get a small flame started in it to light their way. He’d get his revenge on her for every inconvenience she caused him on that fateful day they met next.
The sounds of the waves gently lapping against the shore could be heard in the still night as they awkwardly went down the roughly paved street. He rambled on, incoherent babble mostly, as Galen half carried the man towards his final destination. It was getting more difficult the further they went to carry that drunken fool forward and he knew he would need to commit to the deed soon.
He gave a momentary pause as a lantern appeared further away and steadily headed towards them. He watched in anticipation, trying to discern their purpose for being out so late and who they may be. Were they guards or citizens? Nervously he studied the oncoming light and breathed a sigh of relief as they turned the corner, heading deeper into the inner city.
“Why we stoppin’ Ren?” he said, stumbling against the wall.
Galen turned to him and smiled. “I think I saw someone go down that alley. Looked like a woman.”
He got the man to walk unsteadily forward a few more paces. “A woman? Was she pretty?”
They arrived at the mouth of the alleyway and Galen swiftly pulled out his knife and rammed it into the man's throat, walking him backwards into the darkened passageway. “Oh she was so beautiful, and I knew her name as Death.”
Galen watched him try to call out in panic, but no sound came forth. He simply moved his mouth around, calling out in a silenced whisper as air struggled to pass by the wicked metal blade blocking it. It didn’t take long for the man to fall to the ground, weakly struggling against his assailant as the life left his body. The butcher wasted no time, beginning to separate choice parts off the whole before his victim had even finished expiring. He worked his grisly craft and soon had a bag filled with fresh meat along with a delicate heart that he would savor that night.
He smiled and patted the dead man’s cheek. “Deliver a message for me, friend.” He then pulled out a piece of folded paper out from under his cloak and shoved it into the corpse's mouth.
Galen made his way quietly back to his home in the slums, unaware that had his timing been different, he would have had his fateful meeting sooner rather than later.