Tonje stared into the mysts ahead, unable to gaze more than a single barge length into the gloomy mysts. She stroked at her beard in dissociative contemplation, carefully knotted after the tradition of her mother's kin the Honningvhis, a line of the Cloudfolk only recently transplanted two generations past. The Arkhosian sun was high in the sky, adding summer warmth to the chill of the enveloping mysts. Her thoughts drifted lazily with the swirls of myst as her mind embraced the emptiness of quiet water sloshing against her barge and the sides of the canal.
The Guild of Trade had provided a new crew as the barge departed from the Caldera, a center of commerce on Arkhos. It had been a long voyage, her crew was green as any could be and needed much instruction in the canal life, but that was the place of a skipper, at the helm for as long as it took. While her vessel had no official title (she was no galleon of the great seas) Tonje enjoyed thinking of the collection of fibrula planks as The Whale. She had of course never seen such a creature, but the sailors of the great shipping vessels loved to regale her with tales of the magnificent creatures. A smile manifested under her beard, invisible to all as The Whale drifted down the way. The Whale was but one of many such barges owned by the Guild of Trade and, more often than not, played host to the cargo of the Consignatory Guild. Much of their current cargo was packages bearing the stamp of the Consignatory Guild; Tonje expected them to be full of correspondence for the urban folk.
The barge was now less than a day away from the Imperial capital of Arx Boreas, situated in the grassy foothills to the northeast. The canal she now traveled had been carved by powers long since gone and flowed with speed unseen by many a river. The sides of the canal gave the appearance of being cut from hexagonal stones into a triangular V while surrounded by soil and long grasses. Tonje had heard the canals were build by the Immortal First Childrens in the first age of the Empire, though she had also heard that it was a miracle of the Numen. She was certain the truth lay somewhere in between. She looked forward to a few days rest in the Arx before her next job, the inns of the capital were unmatched across the rest of the realm.
The quiet voice of their guide flitted over to Tonje.
"Skipper, there is something ahead, I see water pooling on the shore."
Tonje rushed to the prow of the barge to join Humility giving the helm to her second. The Myst Hunter was covered in the brown and greens of his Guild, but Tonje knew a Lucidfolk when she saw one, their ambling gait lacked the structure and solidity of those with bones. He clutched the hilt of a sheathed blade on his side with the familiarity of years of anxious practice.
"Should we slow?"
The Myst Hunter narrowed his grey eyes, his beaded pupils growing in response.
"Something obstructs the canal. And I feel a chill in the air. I would choose not to hit it."
Tonje trusted the instincts of the guide, after all, the Myst Hunters were guides contracted for their ability to see through the mysts. She shuddered to think of the cost of such a ritual, but appreciated his presence all the same. Centering herself on the barge, she made sure all could hear her.
"ALRIGHT LADS, PREPARE TO SLOW US UP!"
The barge sprung to life at her command, the crew was finally learning. Long poles were uncovered and distributed across the crew as they awaited their next command while a smaller group still uncovered a pair of anchors with numerous spikes. Tonje waited for the crew to position before shouting.
"SCRAPE!"
The crew swiftly plunged the poles into the canal until they reached the angled bottom and held in place, slowing the barge gradually with each heartbeat as the crew fought to hold in place. Humility quietly whispered to the skipper with urgency.
"Quicker."
"BRACE AND THROW! BRACE AND THROW LADS!"
The crew grabbed on to the nearest object as anchors were tossed to each side, latching onto the earth alongside the canal. Tonje grabbed onto the railing and ducked, pulling Humility down with her as the rattling chains became taught and the entirety of the barge jolted into a sudden stop. She watched as one of her crew was catapulted forward and landed in the canal but, to her surprise, slid instead of sinking with a shriek of pain and crack of bone. A chorus of moans followed as the barge crew slowly rose to survey the damage.
One of the younger lads, Tonje thought his name was Martin or some such (Sternfolk names all sound so bland), limped over and helped her up.
"Skip, what do you..."
His question lingered as Tonje glanced up and was met with a spray of life blood. Martin's head was now gone with the gentlest of pops as a beam of color left an afterimage in her eyes. Tonje froze and recoiled, her hand finding bits of Martin now coated her beard. Another light pop echoed in the cacophony of silence, followed by a meaty thump as another member of the crew fell to another beam. Tonje yelled as the crew froze.
"AMBUSH! Get out of sight!"
Tonje knelt and quickly took stock, searching for the assailants, they had to be close in mysts such as this. All that greeted her gaze was tall grasses embraced by myst. At the edge of her vision, she saw Humility head overboard and into the grasses, blade now drawn as he vanished from her senses.
Her hand brushed over the edge of The Whale and felt a solid cold mass of ice just ahead. She knew little of magic, but freezing a canal solid seemed advanced. Or perhaps some artistry enabled this affront to summer. The crewman who had been thrust upon the ice slowly made their way to their knees and gave their skipper a toothy smile. That smile would stay with Tonje until her last as the poor boy's head vanished into a mist of pink and teeth. Tonje froze as a single tooth clattered along the ice and slid, ending its path against her hand. In horrid fascination she picked it up, her hand shaking with no control as her mind barely registered her predicament.
Some instinct in Tonje screamed at her to dive, she was never one to discard the wisdom of the ancestors, and she dove hard and fast. Splinters of wood silently coated her as a pallet was obliterated and crates tumbled onto her, their securing netting now disintegrated. Tonje kept her face in the floor, her heart pounding in her ears as she worked to compose herself.
"Skipper, you alive?"
Taking quick breathes, she grounded herself in the friendly voice and calmed her mind to the immediate threat of survival. Tonje struggled against the weight of the crates, they must have been packed full with papers of the Consignatory Guild.
"Aye, give us a hand lad."
A hole widened as the pair struggled against the weight until it was just wide enough for Tonje to unceremoniously scuttle her way out.
She looked to her savoir in thanks, a Sternfolk boy named Neville. He was young, for a Sternfolk, and pale by anyone's standards. Stupid, but brave.
"Thank ya, I woulda struggled withouchya."
"Aye Skip, here."
He handed Tonje a crossbow and bundle. She opened it, finding a handful of bolts and cocking lever within. Her hands shaking, she went through the unpracticed motions of mounting the lever, pulling the cross-string back into position, carefully removing the lever, and fitting a bolt. She took a deep breath and brought the weapon up into her armpit, finding some security in the new capability.
The air began to quickly chill as Tonje's breath appeared before her despite the summer sun. She saw similar exhalations of her crew were now visible as the mysts began to recede to the ground. From beneath The Whale a gentle tinkling echoed like glass shards bouncing in the wind and the canal suddenly turned to ice. The Whale jolted and rocked in the violent transformation, ice creaking and moaning in an obstinate complaint. Again, Tonje was thrown and her crossbow hit the ground with a loud twang. As she recovered, she heard Neville gasping for life and saw the lad against a stack of crates. He was slumped forward, a crossbow bolt pinned through his neck to the stiff boards behind him. Panic was in his eyes as he fought to breathe, his arms and legs unmoving as his lifeblood oozed down his pale neck.
Tonje tried to stand and felt her leg give way. A huge splinter of fibrula board cut through her calf, the mocking mark of the Guild of Trade now buried into her flesh. She dragged herself over to Neville, whispering forcefully as her eyes scanned for a medica kit.
"it's okay, it's gonna be okay. we are gonna fix you up and get home."
She spotted a kit with the mark of the Praetor, a hammer with a thorned handle, with the text FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY. It lay on its side, boards lightly cracked. It had clearly been thrown and tossed in the chaos. Despite the pain in her leg she pulled herself over and unlatched the crate. Inside a medica kit was alchemy for healing contained in individual glass vials. As Tonje opened the kit, her face fell, each and every vial was smashed, its potent healing now pooled in the hay which was supposed to prevent such damage. She looked at Neville, who yet drew breath and refused to give in to despair.
Grabbing a nearby burlap sack, she emptied its contents and filled it with the remnants of the medica crate, hay, liquid, and glass all. She desperately crawled back to Neville who had begun to lose the life in his eyes as she hoarsely whispered.
"this will hurt, but today is not your last."
She ripped out the bolt free from Neville's neck and tossed the boy to the deck. She quickly raised the sack above his gushing neck and, with a grimace, squeezed with all the force she possessed. Tonje nearly passed out as glass cut into her hands and the alchemy healed around it, but the precious liquid streamed out and onto Neville, blessedly falling into the gaping wound. The alchemy worked quickly as flesh began to knit and pale skin rapidly reformed. His neck now repaired in full, Neville fell unconscious, but yet somehow still drew breath, paler somehow than he was previously
Tonje released the bag from her hands and still felt as though she grasped hot coals. As she turned her hands, she flinched at the glass embedded in her olive skin, now healed into her flesh thanks to the healing alchemy. She shivered with pain and chill as she started at the ruin of her hands and collapsed to the deck. The air had become so cold it hurt to breath and she fought to persist, each breath in defiance of this Fate which threatened to swallow her. As frost took her beard and eyelashes, she saw that little remained of her crew, many had either been ravaged by hostile magics or given into the cold.
A covered and concealed figure emerged from the tall grass and stepped aboard The Whale. The figure looked to have the build of one of the Kindred; tall with limbs far too long to be comfortable and red feathers emerging from the dark flesh of a hand extended before them. A dark cloak obscured much of their identity but Tonje saw clutched in their other hand at their side was a rod of pure black metal save a center cylinder of silver with length of several feet.
A euphoric warmth had begun to spread as Tonje lost herself and her body enjoyed its last moments. The figure first went to another of her crew struggling against the cold, placed a hand against their head, and the forceful breathing ceased with a loud pop and flash of light. The figure saw Tonje's breath and slowly stalked toward her. As her eyes fluttered, another figure emerged from the tall grass, jumping with a silent prowl.
Humility flew through the air, a wicked blade drawn and aimed at the hostile entity. As the Hunter cleared the ice, a sudden thud of magic pulsed in the air and suspended the Lucidfolk, frozen as if by ice. The figure turned and leveled the rod at them, Tonje could feel the magical potential gathering.
A hand of pure myst the size of Tonje suddenly ushered forth from the ground as grasped Humility. The hostile figure on the deck recoiled and Humility was freed of her magical bonds. In the ensuing moment, the Hunter began to turn to myst as the hand drew them to the ground. Humility shouted.
"NO, NOT NOW!"
Humility fully became myst and vanished into the ground, the hand disappearing as well. Tonje swore she could hear an uncanny voice on the wind.
"Not today child."
The figure loosed their hood, confirming their identity as a Kindred, hawkish features meeting dark skin and red feathers. In the middle of their forehead was a tattoo of golden circles, one contained entirely within the other. The kindred searched across the field, poised for continued conflict. In this final moment, Tonje felt a flooding of strength as her ancestors demanded she rise to meet her end.
The bolt, still coated in Neville's blood and tossed in the chaos, found its way into Tonje's hand as if she called it, materializing in a flash of gyroscopic circles. With her last breath Tonje took all the strength of the proud Honningvhis line and threw herself at the interloper, a roar of fury tearing through her lungs. The figure did not turn and Tonje felt some force restrain her movement, but neither she nor her ancestors gave in as she herself vanished and reappeared, now just in front of the figure. Her hand plunged downward and as the tip of the bolt met perfect alignment with the figure's neck, the bolt shattered against icy armor which sprung into existence at the last possible moment.
Tonje started and fell, slumping as the fire of her ancestors left, and she was alone with her fate as she hit the deck once again. She felt herself become aloft as though a force lifted her from her ribs and locked eyes with her tormentor. His grey eyes showed no remorse nor pity and she despaired. Their wicked mouth opened.
"Fear not, today is not your end."
Tonje finally succumbed to pain and terror and cold and despair, entering into the uncaring embrace of the void.