Vincht stared down into the quiet black dot resting at the center of the glass sphere he clasped in his fingertips. He'd been waiting for something worth calling up the sleeping flame, something worth communicating to the man whose soul channel resided within, but the steady march of time had been eating away at the day, and dragging with it his ever-eroding patience.
But now, finally, he was merely a handful of moments away from victory.
He sighed, unconsciously peeling away a barely congealed strip of scab from his flushed cheek and cast it onto the wooden roof tiles. Despite the coolness of the day, thick beads of sweat coated his brow and stained the pits of his shirt. He barely noticed it anymore, barely recognized the acrid miasma occupying the air around him, barely felt the thickening husk of grime coating every inch of his body.
Returning the glass sphere to its pouch on his belt, Vincht leaned out over the twenty-foot drop and surveyed the bustling port stretched out before him. Nearly everything was in place. Soldiers had taken up strategic positions, covering all avenues of escape, ready to bear arms and move in on his signal. He had more waiting just out of sight, if it came down to it.
A sneer cracked his mangled lips. He almost hoped it would.
He crouched at the edge of the rooftop. The woman in the yellow dress seemed to be making headway with her negotiations. He'd noticed her earlier, moving up and down the line of moored ships, and made note of her exquisite beauty long before he'd connected her with his quarry. He hated knowing that the blood of someone so physically perfect would be on his hands, but that was the price one paid when they fell in with the wrong crowd.
“Nevin.”
He hissed the word through shaking lips. Rising from his spot at the edge of the roof, Vincht cast one final hateful glance at the oblivious young man tending a wagon below before striding purposefully toward a cage of pigeons. He slapped the side of the cage and flung wide the door. Six pigeons burst through the exit, their wings beating at the air like it might fight back if they gave it enough chance. Their flight path cut down into the open plaza before turning to head west along the coast.
Tilting his head as he watched the startled birds vanish into the distance, he peeled free another thin strip of hardened scab, this time from his neck. The reddened flesh oozed a pinkish fluid that pooled into the collar of his leather vest. An uncontrollable shiver wracked his body, but whether it was a shiver of agony or of ecstasy, he'd long lost the ability to discern.
************
The finer hairs on Aurnia’s neck jerked to attention when Captain Williams’ eyes tore from hers to examine something just over her right shoulder. It was the first time since he had agreed to hear her out that he didn’t watch her intently, didn't scrutinize her every word and move. With his attention now turned elsewhere, a growing discomfort twisted knots in her stomach.
The rhythmic pulsing of leather soles on cobblestone announced the approach of three men. She knew without turning they were city guard.
Things were about to get very unpleasant.
A slight breeze ruffled the folds of her delicate yellow dress as the three men came to a halt. They must have lowered their spears.
“By the order of Baron Lancowl,” spoke a stern, monotonous voice, “I order you to relinquish your weapons and surrender. Comply, and you will taken into custody. Failure to comply with our orders will result in lethal action.”
Captain Williams turned his attention back to her through a pair of narrow, questioning eyes. “What have you gotten me into, woman?”
“Too late to back out now, Captain. We have an agreement.” She lifted a single finger, slowly tilting it forward until it pointed directly at the man's sun-burnt nose. “Welch on it now and I'll drag you down with me, understand?”
The man flinched like she'd just reached out and slapped him. Swallowing hard, he nodded.
“Comply,” repeated the soldier, impatiently. “Turn around and surrender yourselves into our custody. You will not be asked again.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Aurnia reached down into the folds of her dress and wrapped her delicate fingers around the small yellow gemstone she'd received from Donald. She took a deep breath, turned to face the small group of soldiers, and allowed the gentle warmth of her soul to spread out and suffuse every inch of her expectant form.
Somewhere, not far from where she stood, a misshapen creature sucked a lungful of air through its gaping mouth hole and stirred.
************
“Hey,” Aidux whispered, barely loud enough for Nevin to hear over the bustle of the plaza. The cat nudged the steadfast lid with his nose. “Undo the latch for me. It's getting stiffy in this box.”
“It's 'stuffy'.” Nevin grinned, tugging aside the wool blanket to reveal a half-moon shaped iron latch.
A familiar baritone voice addressed him from behind. “It is a bit on the warm side, isn't it, Nevin?”
Nevin's blood turned to ice, a frozen river of terror that brought his heart to jerking halt.
Even without looking, he knew exactly who the words belonged to. Forcing himself to turn, he prayed he was mistaken, prayed his stress-addled mind had finally snapped and was spinning delusions out of his darkest fears.
The black-haired Vincht smiled down at him, his hand resting casually on the ivory hilt of his short blade. Nevin took a step back and covered his mouth to hide his revulsion.
The man was a shadow of his former self. Gone was his meticulously maintained external appearance, replaced with a set of filthy, blood-stained clothes and a gruesome face split by thick, pus-swollen gouges. The wounds were open and oozing, their edges red and swollen with unchecked infection. Thick gobs of milky sweat clung to his clammy flesh, and uncontrollable convulsions occasionally wracked his body. The cloying scent of dried sweat and rot permeated the air.
A trio of spear-wielding soldiers spread out behind him, their presence likely only a secondary precaution in case Nevin decided to run. The young man looked past them for help, but it seemed Aurnia had her own soldiers to deal with, and more were rapidly approaching from both sides of the plaza. Within moments, the empty space between the docks and warehouses would be filled with armed men.
He cast a sideways glance at the crate. Aidux knew to keep quiet. With any luck, no one would ever know he was there.
“You're quite long way from home.” He scratched at the bloody divot in his chin, staining his already darkened fingertips a fresh shade of red.
“You left me no choice. It was either leave or burn to death.” He shifted his weight to step away from the cart, but a terrifying thought stopped him. Aidux was stuck, the crate lid latched to keep it from popping open as the cart bounced along the city streets. If he ran off without unlatching it, Aidux would be as good as dead if the soldiers found him.
How could he pop the latch without giving away the lynx's hiding spot?
All over the plaza, sailors and commoners alike were abandoning the open ground, fleeing to their ships or disappearing down alleyways. With no one to scare them off, hordes of screaming gulls descended upon the discarded fish guts, fighting among themselves over the bloody remains.
The black-haired warrior looked around, frowning. “You're oddly alone. Where are your friends? The man with glowing eyes? That infernal cat?”
“They're dead,” he lied, hoping the manufactured quiver in his voice sounded convincing enough. “They didn't survive the fires. I barely made it here myself.”
Vincht's lower lip stuck out in mock sympathy. “I'm so sorry to hear that. That must have devastated you. I suppose now you're going to tell me you left the object I'm looking for back at that old man's cabin, too?”
“It burned along with everything else.”
A sinister grin split the man's lips. “Then explain the fog on your breath, Nevin. Nothing magical about that, am I right?”
Nevin looked down. A fine mist swirled in the air before him. He hadn't realized it, but his right hand had snuck behind him and found its way between the folds of the wool blanket to grip the bare metal of the Sharasil.
“You really are a terrible liar.” Vincht shook his head in disappointment. “I'll let you keep it, for now. At least while you're helping me find the cat. You can't imagine how eager I am to-”
A sudden blast of briny wind battered the group with a wall of dust and debris, and the bodies of three soldiers flew past them overhead. They slammed into the warehouse wall before dropping limply to the cobbles. Vincht and his men covered their faces protectively and turned. Aurnia stood with an arm stretched forward, a strange yellow light shining out between the fingers of her closed fist.
Vincht sneered through clenched teeth. “Witch.”
The black-haired warrior waved a hand high overhead and called out to the soldiers scattered across the plaza. “The woman in yellow's a user! Take her down with as much force as you can muster!”
Nevin only took a moment to gawk at his female companion's surprising show of magical force before he realized no one's attention was trained on him anymore. He lunged toward the crate, slapping open the latch holding the lid closed on Aidux before sprinting down the nearest alleyway.
As the warehouses rose up around him, he heard the distinctive ring of steel as Vincht's short blade emerged from its home.