Sasha trudged down Low Monestate’s sidewalks in the direction of where the wailing faded and ceased. She spoke to Primus in her hand. “How do I use you? Your power.”
“Just swing me normally. I’ll act by my own will.”
“What do you even do anyway?”
The blade sneered. Its ego annoyed her. “You don’t know of my might? Really?”
“Inform me.”
“I used to be a man of great gravity, so that’s what I grew to control after my death. It all started many decades ago, seven-fifty-four, The Lyridian Century—,” Sasha threatened to shove him back into his sock of a sheath. “No, no, wait! I’ll get to the point!”
Sasha encouraged him to continue with a nod.
“I control my own weight. Light as an ant? I can do it. Unmovable as a boulder? No problem on a good day.”
“Interesting,” Sasha responded, slashing Primus through the air. Even as large as the hulking blade was, it felt no different from Isaac’s wooden training swords.
She crept up to the entrance of a dark alleyway, careful not to crunch the snow too loudly. Then there, in the distance, she saw the eyes of a great owl with a sprawling wingspan perched upon the railing of an overhanging fire escape. At her feet deep in those shadows, she spotted a wide-eyed naked elderly man, his skin dyed pale by frigidness. Like the first victim nearly a year back, surgical slits covered the body, leaving a deflated balloon of a flesh sack.
Sasha’s fight or flight sense forced her to stumble back, hand covering her mouth. Her heartbeat pulsing in her throat, the sudden nausea and anxiety overwhelmed like nothing else. The owl descended with a plop not too far in front of her. As the pitch-black figure stood up tall with grace, a crescent shaped shotel in each hand, Sasha realized the bird had been a man the entire time. She stood back into the tense combat stance Isaac ironed fluidity into months ago. Primus chuckled with glee, commanding her. “Steel yourself, child!”
The attacker’s movements proved to be nothing like Isaac’s. He stalked and jolted with jitters, his head never staying on the same level. Sasha inched forward, parrying his slashes with a tight guard. She thrusted, poking the blade at his center mass like a spear. He anticipated this though and caught Primus between both shotels. A metallic SHLING rang out as he raised the claymore into the air with ease and closed the distance. Sasha and his eyes locked. The owl’s mask was forged with staggering artistry. It looked suffocating.
As she readied to send a front kick to the owl’s stomach, Primus rabidly giggled. Then the claymore bore down into the snow-blanketed concrete like an anchor. Everything white splattered red. With a CLANG, Sasha’s attacker compressed into a twitchy, debilitated mess under her sword’s weight. She looked down in disgust at the indent Primus left in the man’s groaning body. Primus shouted. “Praise me! Are you proud, human! Another slain by my might!”
“You almost took my fingers off.”
“I’ll warn you next time then. Shall I yell bonk?”
“There shouldn’t be a next time.” She gagged, kicking gory gunk from her shoe. “I’m gonna be sick. Didn’t even save the victim either.”
She avoided looking at the dead owl and stumbled from the alleyway only to fall to her knees. Vomit surged with tears and snot. Primus’s chipper mood continued relentlessly. “Don’t lament. If I had arms, I’d pat your back.”
Sasha made her way home and into their small backyard. Coming out uninjured surprised her. More than anything else though, she wondered why she felt so relieved. Almost manic. Was the giddy tremble overwhelming her the cold or excitement? That murderer would never kill again. She cleaned Primus off in the well water after her boots. The machina apparently hated baths.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“Just leave the blood on me. It’s like moisturizer. I’m sure you understand. You’re a logical creature, right?”
“Probably. Can’t say the same for you though. Can’t leave any sign that would make Randle suspicious. You’ll need to stay quiet about this too.”
“You have my promise. A contract, it is.”
Sasha slipped him into the sheath or, in his words, sock. Primus cried out in meek horror, voice slipping away, as he entered it. “Ah, please, no, not there—”
She held the sheathed claymore now slumbering. It returned to its naturally absurd heaviness. “I’m confident shutting you up was the key to our store’s success.”
Reentering the house proved easy. Sasha tiptoed back into the twilight shopfront where Xavier had woken back up. On guard, he eyed her and cleared his throat from his chair, bronze helmet in lap. “What’re you doing with that demon of a machina so late?” He questioned.
Sasha’s posture stiffened up rigid as she scratched her head with a twitchy grin. “Training. Night training. I couldn’t sleep.”
He crossed his arms with surprise. “Sir Randle Fletcher did tell me you’ve gotten rather lively lately. Nigh uncontrollable. You’ve been seeking out training from those brutes at The Colosseum, right? Would have been unheard of back East in Zaibah. Women here are free-spirited.”
She avoided confrontation and did a rigid closed eye bow. “I’m sorry for making a ruckus. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll head straight to bed.”
“Don’t worry about it. Rest easy. Oh, and I didn’t mean to rattle you so bad. You look pale.”
After Sasha’s hot shower, steam so great that it labored her breath, she floated to and passed out onto the mattress about on impact. No blanket, no robe, no night gown. Just face down like a blackout drunk starfish.
For the next few months, life lulled to something normal. Something grey yet hopeful. With coldrule’s passing, the seasonal cold fronts and blizzards relented. Now, waves of warmth wandered in from the west to signal bloomdance’s arrival; and bloom everything did. Slightly taller, Sasha listened to the neighboring baby birds on the shop roof with every departure from home.
But with every trip to the bazaar for groceries or The Colosseum for training, she couldn’t help but stay on guard. She’d killed a man. One she suspected to be the gear to a machine much vaster. It wasn’t like she truly knew anything… no names, no news, no rumors. A feeling simply took grip on her; a bad one. Were there anymore of those owls out there? She often spaced out standing at the shopfront in her leather work apron and hat. When these heavy thoughts clouded her mind during work, she often disassociated at the shopfront in her apron and hat, staring blankly forward. The spacing out was bad enough for most to notice. Randle and the guards saw it as grief. They chose not to disturb her. Customers usually took it as an insult.
Randle touched Sasha’s shoulder. It jolted her back into reality. Her scared reaction scared him, creating a loop of flinching between the two. He looked worried. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” she started, biting her thumb. “Randle, do you know anything about owls?”
He gave her eerie fisheyes. “The bird, right?”
“No. I ran into a man wearing a mask that resembled one a while back. Just can’t stop thinking about it.”
Randle felt around at his pockets as if impulsively looking for his whiskey flask. He gave up quick though. “Rath Ghul. Remember that name. Fear it.”
“Rath Ghul?”
“They’re an underground guild rooted throughout this nation. They recruit and raise coldblooded killers for contract. Everything from Ethela to New Gareth is their turf. Don’t got much competition when it comes to organized crime either.”
“That’s basically the entirety of Ailmor though.”
“Exactly.”
“Wouldn’t King Andre do anything about them if he knew?”
“They keep out of each other’s feathers. The king doesn’t give a damn about us little guys. That’s why these types can walk over everybody so easy. Every slum you see will have owls.” Randle’s eyes sharpened in hatred. He contemplated a confession but ended up gritting his teeth instead. “Whatever you do, don’t get involved with Rath Ghul. Don’t take any loans, don’t ask for any favors, don’t even look at them.” His voice heightened to a growl. “Don’t.”
His commotion shifted Troll’s Treasure’s air tense. A few noisy, nosy housewives visiting together stopped to eavesdrop, so Randle calmed himself to get back to work. Sasha stared down at her feet blankly.
She rambled low just to herself, but the old man heard. “It’s kinda hard to remember, but I think my dad got into debt. That’s what led up to his and mom’s disappearances. It’s what led up to Ley taking care of me in that horrible shed. He about starved himself putting me first. Rath Ghul. Rath Ghul. Rath… Ghul?” Sasha’s left eye took to twitching. Her brother’s habit.
Randle furrowed his brow. “Sasha, I never want to be reminded about those murderers under this roof again. Forget I ever mentioned it.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”