We spent nearly an hour following Ara across the city and down various alleys as she told us about the Crawlers and their evil ways and the Old Guard which was trying and failing to keep them contained. She painted us the picture of a dying district that was going down swinging but going down all the same.
So it was in a melancholic mood that we arrived at our destination bit it was so strange it knocked us right out of our funk. It was, at first glance at least, a dead end alley but the dead end in question was lit by hundreds of candles each in its own individual saucers half filled with liquid wax. They were everywhere that a saucer would fit, dotted around on the floor, set into the walls, even on the window sills far above us. I was looking around in astonishment and wondering how we were going to get our food when Ara walked up to a small nailed shut door that was set into the back wall and knocked smartly.
“This doesn't look like a cafe.” Said Skull accusatory.
Ara just winked at her and smiled. “Funny that ain’t it?”
One of the apparently nailed on planks swung open and a pair of suspicious purple eyes stared out “Oh it's you Ara... who are this lot?” Asked a muffled voice as the plank swung closed again and the door slid open slowly to reveal a Leslecsis stood behind it. She nodded one of her heads at each of us in turn.
“This is the cutie crew.” Said Ara with a grin and I felt more than I saw Skull tense next to me. If it was anger or embarrassment I still couldn't tell you.
The Leslecsis didn't bat an eyelid (possibly because she didn't have any) at the name nor at our outfits and weapons, instead she gestured with a tentacle towards the back of the room. “There are some tables free in the back, the kids with you know the rules Ara?”
“Rules?” Skull asked.
The non-human nodded every head in unison. “Only two pay your tab and take it outside.”
“What is this place?” I asked in astonishment looking into the gloomy interior. The place was nearly black with shadows and grime and the only lighting came from a scattering of candles in green glass jars hung from fishing nets which rather incongruously covered the walls and ceiling of the bar. Straining my eyes against the smoke I could see dozens of small booths and short round tables stretching back into the shadows. Quite a few had people sitting at them... at least I hoped they were people.
The Leslecsis leered. “It's called the Rocky Bottom.”
“’Cause if you’re drinking here you’ve hit rock bottom,” added Ara. “... But since the Crawler war it's started doing day time sandwiches, canapés and being a neutral meeting spot for gang leaders so it's more of a cafe now. Lolin is just over-enamoured of her old rep.”
Lolin scowled at Ara but without any real fire in it, “once I used to spook people,” she said morosely. “Now I'm nice old Lolin who makes good sandwiches... what a world.”
She nodded down at us and sniffed. “Come in then, Ara knows my menu so the rest of you just sit.” She shuffled off into the gloom and we padded in behind her. I stepped carefully over her trailing tails and picked my way across the room until I could sink gratefully into the surprisingly comfortable leather backed chairs that ringed a fireside table. Ara looked over at us and waved as Lolin deposited a variety of plates and cups onto the bar in front of her.
I made myself comfortable on the chair and watched as Skull and Blood tried to do likewise, Blood wearing two rapiers on her belt and Skull having enough hidden weapons to make scratching an extreme sport meant that the process lasted several minutes and was quite funny to watch but they finally managed it just as Ara arrived.
“Here’s your plate,” she handed me a pile of sweets and a steaming mug, “here’s yours,” Skull got a bun and a tall glass, “and here’s yours,” Blood looked impressed as Ara’s flat headed tail spun out from behind her back with the last plate balanced on its tip and took it happily staring enraptured at an éclair the size of my forearm. “Don't worry cutie crew, it's on me so tuck in.”
“I’m more than happy to pay if you wish.” Said Skull looking down at her plate with a clinical rather than hungry air.
Ara bristled slightly at this (not a figure of speech, her head spikes stiffened and rose up from her skin by a good five centimetres) and shook her head. “I said I'm paying, didn't I?” Her tone was still light and playful but with more of a hard edge than I had heard so far.
The sudden tension was totally defused by Blood who dived onto her éclair and began to shove chunks up under her mask with indecent haste. “Thanks!” She squealed around the first fistful of cream and bread.
“You’re welcome little red,” said Ara sweetly. “Eat up, we don't want you getting ill.” Taking a bite out of a piece of cake of her own (I honestly don't know where she got it from considering all of her limbs were in use[84] but it’s not really important).
“This is delicious,” mumbled Blood. “Really it's...it’s just amazing! So creamy and tasty.” I was sure I could see Lolin’s tails swish in delight for a second. Fearful reputation or not a cook of any species loves to have their food complimented.
“I'm glad you like it so much.” Ara smiled at Blood as the tiny girl continued demolishing her meal and I set about mine with equal vigour the second I got my hands on my cutlery (I have never been happy to eat with my hands like Blood does) however all through this Skull was still studying her first forkful.
“Something the matter Skull?” I asked between mouthfuls.
“This food looks awful,” she said slowly and carefully. “I think I can see mould.”
Blood leant over and squinted at it. “Those are tea leaves Skull, it's a tea bun they’re part of it.”
“I... am not hungry.”
“But this stuff is great!” bemoaned Blood reaching out and picking up Skulls bun. “Honestly if you’re not going to I’ll just...”
“How can you eat this stuff?” Spat Skull at the tiny girl.
“Because I'm not a snooty little spoiled princess?” Shot back Blood.
“Spoiled? You little insect!”
“I AM NOT LITTLE, I am only slightly under average height!”
“You don't even come up to my shoulder!”
“Maybe not right now but when I put you on the ground, who'll be taller then?”
“Oh just try it you hyperactive toddler...”
Ara leant across and threw a muscular grey arm around Skull. “Looks like there's dissent in the cutie crew?” she said teasingly.
Skull reached up quickly and shoved Ara’s arm off her shoulder. “We are not called the cutie crew.” She pouted, sounding suddenly like the teenager she actually was. “We’re the... the...”
Skull looked at us, we looked at her. For a long second there was utter silence and stillness then she slapped her skull mask with one palm.
“We... do we not have a name?”
I glanced at Blood who ignored me in favour of continuing to set about her new tea bun. “I guess not.” I shrugged helplessly.
“When it was just me I never thought I needed one,” said Blood thoughtfully and slightly indistinctly. “And I’d forgotten about all that stuff by the time you guys joined.”
“Then we should make one up right?” I said. “It’s either that or the watch gives you one and those names always suck.”
“Yeah, remember the North Street not-very-nice mugger group?” giggled Blood. “I really don't think they prioritise naming.”
“So if it’s up to us... what about the Crime Troupe?” asked Skull. “It’s got a certain ring to it.”
“What are we aggressive minstrels?” said Blood shaking her head. “We need something better... What about the Crimson Carvers! That's got an edge to it.”
“But that makes us sound like the villains here,” I retorted. “How about like The Sisterhood. We’re all girls after all.”
“But that doesn't exactly sound intimidating does it?” Said Skull.
“We could try some sort of clade?”
“Isn't that for assassins?”
“A battalion?”
“Too few people.”
“You’ve all got swords right?” asked Ara with a white toothed grin. “How about the Blade Br...”
We were interrupted by a cacophony outside the tavern. It sounded... well it sounded like a mob which was probably because it was. Faintly above the din we could hear a thin reedy voice raised in protestation.
“But I need the mercurial sulphide compound far more than some painter, he only wishes to copy life whilst I hold in my hands the means to... no wait... don't put that there... No!”
Ara sighed and down the last of her drink “Every time!” she moaned, drawing a long knife. “Every Koth damned time!”
We got the Physician back eventually but it took a fair bit of bribery, some serious negotiation and a few threats of rapier to the face, Luckily Ara seemed to know everyone in the whole dock spur and it's hard to mob when someone’s calling out individuals names. A mob relies on being a single unified organism and doesn't deal well with someone like Ara yelling, “oh Mr Peterson how’s your new son?” and “Mistress Aileen I see your gout cleared up.” After we paid for the goods the Physician stole (or as he insisted “negotiated”) we had it away on our toes as fast as we could whilst everyone was still laughing. When they’re laughing they’re not looking for a noose.
The second we rounded a discreet corner we darted into an alley and took our preferred method of escape. In retrospect we should have been more considerate of our new companions but luckily Ara seemed entirely unbothered when we (wordlessly) went up the side of a building. We all used our preferred methods of escape, I unfurled my grapnel, Skull unsheathed her the complex clockwork climbing claws in her gloves and Blood just ran at the brickwork and somehow levitated upwards like a cat caught eating forbidden cream. Ara chose to follow Blood's example and did remarkably well even if she did need a bit more scenery to accomplish it. But the Physician had much more trouble.
“You may have taken a shine to them Ara, but I don't like them.”
“Yes Phys.”
“They are an unknown variable.”
“Yes Phys.”
“They are doubtless dangerous, both in that they are well trained and in that they have shown the desire to hurt members of the 9th.”
“Whatever you say Phys.”
“Does the name of the glorious 9th street hook runners mean nothing to you Ara?”
“So you aren’t coming up the rope then?”
“... Damn you devil child.”
The Physician looked up the length of dangling rope hanging before him (unwound from Ara’s chest wrappings, for a while I thought I had figured out why she was wearing them. Turns out I was dead wrong but oh well) then he spat on his hands and began to laboriously haul himself upwards. Hand over hand he moved painstakingly climbing upwards, his face locked in a rictus of fear and determination. It was quite moving really; I could see he hated every motion and yet he still kept coming.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
However moving or not it took more than ten seconds and as we know that is nine seconds longer than a certain someone’s attention span.
“TOO SLOW OLD MAN!” Blood bellowed merrily and then before he could reply she grabbed the rope and hauled. For any normal person it would have probably just bruised their arms but this was Blood we are talking about. The Physician shot upwards like a cork released from a champagne bottle and flew towards us screaming whilst Blood's arms became a blur. Then, with a torrent of curses and a trail of sick, the Physician slammed onto the rooftop next to me.
“Excellent,” said Ara happily. “Now that's done with, we should get moving, we’ll walk the Phys back to base then you can check on Lydia or go back home or whatever you want to do.”
“Thanks Ara.” I said, leaping nimbly over a short steeple as the Physician uncoiled from a crumpled heap on the ground and began to clamber laboriously to his feet with the aid of one of Ara’s arms.
“Eh it's all good” said Ara casually. “You girls take the rooftops often?”
“Nearly all the time.” replied Blood merrily. She’s always seemed happiest when she's off the streets and on a roof.
“It can be quite hard going though,” cut in Skull snidely. “I hope you can keep up.”
Ara just grinned and flexed her grey shoulders, “I’ll try.” She said sweetly.
And she did more than try. In fact she actually pulled away from me as we shot across the moonlit rooftops of Prasus. Ara uses her tail as a springboard you see, it doesn't help her much across flat ground but when she jumps she can go five or ten metres further than anyone but Blood can and she never seems to get tired.
I swiftly fell behind as Blood and Ara jockeyed with one another for first place in our impromptu race. I remember thinking at the time that Blood seemed to love it. I often got the impression even then that she held herself back around us, reined in her great strength and speed somewhat. But with Ara she obviously didn't feel she had to... I guess that's her choice, not the one I would have made. I mean we had just met her and we had no idea if she could be trusted so I wouldn't have gone showing off like that[85].
The two of them overtook and cut off, dashed and slid, jumped and vaulted their way across a good half mile in about 4 minutes. Blood was faster obviously but she tires easily, putting on great bursts of speed then dropping back, whilst Ara just ran steadily onwards... Of course Skull was keeping ahead of both of them as usual[86] but it was still cool. I did notice that Blood hadn't called any ravens to her presumably since she didn't want the Physician or Ara asking awkward questions.
Me and Skull had a long running argument about the ravens that at one point (after a long night and a bottle of wine) had resulted in a small fire and a number of thrown chairs. I thought it was a thing that was unique to Blood, just something she had somehow been born with, whereas Skull thought it was part of her trapping somehow. She said (and here is where she lost me) that we didn't understand Blood’s magic enough to realise how it did fire and ravens at the same time (as it would turn out Skull was wrong about the ravens which I’ve never let her forget[87]). Regardless, Blood obviously thought it might cause comment.
It was when we were vaulting across yet another smokestack that the winds of destiny quite literally blew for us. A gust of sea air washed across the docks and carried to my nose a new scent, the scent of burning wood and metal.
I stopped dead on that lonely rooftop and sniffed again. It was definitely the scent of charring wood with a sharp edge of heated metal. Within a heartbeat Blood and Skull stood either side of me weapons readied. Even Ara had folded up into formation behind us without a word covering our flank like a veteran (which I guess she was now I think about it, being a gangster is not a peaceful occupation). Only the Physician was still moving... but he was five rooftops back huffing and puffing like a steam train whilst trying desperately to pull himself over a gargoyle so he didn't really count.
“Is that smoke?” Asked Skull looking quizzically at Blood; the younger girl sniffed deeply then nodded.
“It’s a fire and it’s a big one. I can smell burning wood, metal and it’s distant but... human blood, pain and fear; lots of fear.” She said all this slowly and calmly but I could see her fingers tracing the rubies on her rapier with a sort of nervous energy.
I remember nodding and craning my neck to see a distant building on fire, its glow just visible over the district's wall. “What is that... a shrine?”
“It's a watchhouse,” Ara’s voice was calm and level but oddly dull for her, “The Crawlers sometimes attack them or sometimes people flee there and get hemmed in. Either way Crawlers deal with it the same,” Ara sighed. “Burn ‘em out and cut ‘em down.”
I looked at Blood then I turned to Skull after a second the two women nodded.
“Can you get the Physician back to your base Ara?”
The half-breed wasn’t stupid so she nodded solemnly at us then smiled. “Of course... Good luck.”
With that she turned and began to walk back towards the panting Physician who was still shuffling and slipping along the last rooftop like a man leaving a pub after a long night of bad choices.
By the time we arrived it was almost too late. The barricades had already fallen and cries of animal pain and rage were rising from a vast undulating horde of ferals surrounding the watchhouse. A handful of watchmen were still defiantly defending the windows and walls but the front door was what attracted the eye. The actual doors themselves had been entirely ripped from their frames but in the hole that remained stood a tall watch officer dressed in the uniform of a captain with a heavy steel breastplate and bronze greaves. Whilst the other watchmen fought hard they were obviously exhausted, hacking and cutting without finesse and near collapse but this single captain stood entirely unbowed in the teeth of the horde. His tulwar flashing to and fro like a bolt of lightning keeping the encroaching savages at bay. For a second the light shone of his armour and revealed his face, young, haggard topped by blonde hair and split by a cruel old scar down his cheek. Behind him in the shadowed interior of the watchhouse we could see a handful of injured watchmen standing in a loose line between the door and a mass of white face civilians, many injured and all terrified.
“Back! Back I say!” Bellowed the watch captain as he cleaved the fingers from a grasping hand sending its owner scurrying away mewling in agony. Unfortunately from where we stood we could see that whilst gallant his defiance was pointless. For each feral he cut down three more muscled their way forwards to assault the wrecked doorway.
We saw all this from where we had alighted in the shadows of the neighbouring building’s rooftop. Our weapons were drawn but hidden out of sight beneath the lip of the roof (Blood had explained at length how much trouble a single errant flash could cause[88]) and we were just tensing to leap into the fray when a loud clear voice stopped us... just as it stopped the horde.
“Away from him! Step away! I said AWAY! Or no fury for you!”
The crowd of ragged half naked shambling things howled with sorrow at the prospect and flew away from the watchman forming a wide circle around the bottom of the watchhouse stairs. From the crowd strode the voice's owner, a huge broad chested figure of a man dressed in a grey leather duster, hood and coat. His hands were hidden by white fleece gloves and his eyes by a pair of thick brass goggles leaving not one inch of his skin exposed.
I could almost hear Blood start drooling when I saw what was in his hands. The man (or women it was quite hard to tell and we never found out) was holding a huge ticksteel crossbow, a large copper cylinder filled with hundreds of arrows capped at one end with a mess of crossbow limbs and long steel strings and at the other with a stock with a huge padded plate (to prevent the weapons rapid fire from breaking the wielders bones). Ticksteel weapons were vanishingly rare even in Prasus (The world’s foremost ticksteel manufacturer and exporter). Only the bodyguards of the heads of the highest houses, the Prasian navy’s elite Special Forces division[89] and the Arch-Doges elite guards routinely wielded them. Outside of those three groups they essentially didn't exist. So how had a mere dock gang got even a single one?
This strangely dressed and insanely heavily armed figure clanked over to the watch captain and gestured at the mob, “hail southerner I am here to inform you that Nathanial Red-razor wishes to speak to you. I would advise you against turning down his hospitality. His specific wording was,” here the strange purring accent of the gangster changed into a rather good falsetto. “Drag him back here but gut him if he gives you any trouble.”
The captain raised an eyebrow and gestured with his sword behind him. “If you swear to let the civilians leave unharmed I will happily accompany you wherever you wish.”
On the shadowed rooftop we looked at one another with a mutual air of admiration. We had always thought of the watch as... well corrupt and vicious obstacles to our job of taking the nobles down a few pegs but I guess assumptions are rarely completely accurate.
“Ah well that's good and noble and all,” spat the well dressed thug. “But I'm afraid the boss isn’t keen on witnesses so they’re all up for the chop regardless but you’ve got a chance to survive.”
“Then never good sir, I say never! I would rather die than betray my oath of office!”
The crossbowman shrugged. “Well if you insist.”
Without a further word the person levelled the great shining copper bow and pulled the trigger. Within the exquisitely tooled cylinder hundreds of intricate levers moved in unison, perfectly turned gears spun, platinum pistons pumped, silver springs snapped all for the purpose of sending a heavy metal bolt flying towards the valiant captain’s heart.
I didn't even really see the movements, below or next to me. In fact all I was aware of at the time was a flash of crimson and a loud crack as Blood, falling from the sky like a cast down angel, landed between the crossbowman and the watch captain. For a second the world held its breath then something clattered to the ground next to Blood's boot... a steel crossbow bolt cut neatly in half. Blood flourished her single drawn rapier and bowed with a cocksure flick of her cloak.
“Who in the Abyss are you?!” Barked the gangster in astonishment, almost certainly wide eyed behind the copper goggles. Blood just giggled and leapt forwards drawing her other blade. There was a sound like a steel auger and the man’s priceless crossbow fell apart into valueless shards around his feet.
“I'm Blood,” She said with an audible grin. “And.... we’re still considering our team name.” Blood grabbed the gangsters collar and drew his head into her mask; hard. There was the sharp crack of bone breaking and the man reeled backwards in agony spraying a column of crimson across Bloods mask (where it blended in nicely), as the man fell Blood flourished her blades and the hundreds of ferals... charged.
Both me and Skull had started moving the second Blood had leapt off of course but neither of us felt like following her lead and catapulting ourselves off into free fall. As such we arrived ten or so seconds behind her, dropping from a low ledge onto the station's steps. Skull turned to me and pointed. “Bright cover the civilians I’m going to back up Blood.”
I just nodded at her; this was no time or place to argue. Without another word Skull ran away across the cobbles towards Blood (who was doing a commendable impression of an out of control milling machine covered in razors). Her rapier and dirk were moving and cutting so fast that they looked like a silver net hovering in the air all around her, as ferals touched these silver strands they fell screaming and bleeding. Step by step Blood was carving a path through the centre of these human monsters. However Skull knew Bloods fighting style well (they spar together after all) and she knew it had a serious weakness, it was a powerful berserk art form true but she left her back wide open. Skull slipped into this blind spot now blade drawn and as Blood carved her way into the mass of screaming animalistic addicts Skull shielded her following her like a shadow and lashing out her blade at any feral that (through luck or judgment) got around Bloods guard. For how often they argue they fight really well together.
I am telling you all this in retrospect however as at the time I had only a second to appreciate the synchronicity before I came under attack. By the time Skull had even reached Blood I had been forced to club four screaming ferals to the ground and break another one's hand under my heel.
I quickly found myself fighting next to the watch captain and, even though he was quite obviously baffled by this turn of events, he was visibly grateful for reinforcements. He kept the right side of the stairs clear whilst I stuck to the left and he happily laid into my side if his own supply of ferals dried up.
As I’ve said I'm not a skilled fighter but this was not a skilled fight; the ferals had no understanding of tactics or team work, they just charged screaming. In fact the only advantage they had was numbers... but that seemed more than enough. Every feral I clubbed to the ground was replaced by three more even before his teeth had stopped bouncing across the floor. Soon my arms were burning with strain as my mace rose and fell and still their numbers seemed endless.
Out in front of me Blood was still doing her very best impression of an runaway waterwheel that some maniac had sharpened whilst Skull was skulking along in her shadow lashing out occasionally with her long blade to keep the ferals back (as I said before they weren’t smart enough to try to flank her but, thanks to her constant forward momentum, a few got lucky).
Then suddenly, as quickly as it had started, the fight was over. In retrospect without their leader the ferals were already on the edge of running and our determined assault had pushed them over the edge. As Blood cut another charging maniac down and I clubbed a wasted claw nailed woman to the floor something in them snapped and as one they turned fled, without a signal or sound. One moment they were fighting us like savage animals and the next they were fleeing for their life. I swung my mace at the empty air for a few heartbeats, driven by pure muscle memory, before I realised they were really gone and lowered it.
With the sound of retreating footsteps echoing around the square I finally released my grip on my mace and winced as it fell with a disgusting splattering sound. Looking down at the tiles below my feet I finally saw the blood. It was everywhere, puddles and plumes and great oceans of deep vicious red stained across the entire square. My mace had fallen in a huge puddle of the stuff... right next to a floating tooth.
I felt bile rise in my throat at the sight and turning away I saw Blood; stood in the centre of the devastation. She was shaking slightly, with rage or exhaustion I couldn't tell, and gripping her two dripping rapiers so tightly that the leather of her gloves looked like it might crack.
Fishing my mace from its disgusting puddle I raised a hand to wipe away the sweat that stuck to the inside of my mask (only succeeding in jamming a sweat dripping chunk of porcelain further into my face) and stared wide eyed at my friend. She wasn’t moving, not apart from her ragged trembling breaths. She just stood there above the moaning screaming mass of injured ferals. I wanted to say something to her, do something to help her... but Skull beat me to it. She walked calmly over to Blood and laid a hand softly on the little girl's shoulder. I nearly screamed as Blood spun and brought her rapiers around in a tight circle of blurred steel that stopped a mere shivering centimetre away from Skull's unmoving masked head.
The tall dark clad girl reached up and patted Blood on the top of her head like a mother soothing a scared child and said something to her that I was too far away to hear[90]. Blood seemed to uncoil as she spoke and after a moment she nodded and sheathed her rapiers. Walking away from the carnage followed by Skull she drew level with me and jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
“Before you ask Bright they’ll live.”
I shook my head. “I was going to ask if you’re ok.” I said softly reaching out to take her hand in mine, it was so small and it shook slightly.
Blood nodded and shrugged. “I’m fine, just a bit tired from fighting and...I don't like going all out like that. I worry I’ll... hurt someone, even if it’s just these monsters I still don't like to hurt people.”
“I most heartily approve of the young lady,” said the nearly forgotten watch captain. His accent now I had time to analyse it was the refined drawl of a noble but nobles never joined the watch at less than Lord-Constable rank. “I abhor violence as well but those wretches chose to become monsters and whilst I'm certain our surgeon will have his hands full tonight I feel that our mortician shall be singularly unemployed. I note your blade work is impeccable.”
“I sharpen my blades every day with only the finest stone you know?” Blood’s pride filled tone brought a happy smile to my face and the hand I was squeezing stopped trembling and began to squeeze back.
“Ah you sharpened it with a stone?” asked the Captain, suddenly excited. “I do as well! Everyone’s always trying to get me to switch to using steel but I prefer the edge stone leaves.”
“THANK YOU!” bellowed Blood suddenly pointing at the man. “Someone who finally gets it!”
“Oh for the love of...,” Skull waved a finger under the captain's nose. “She’ll be insufferable for cycles now!”