“Everyone has a bogeyman. Even assassins. Amongst these ancient societies, there are tales told around campfires of a ninja clan so consumed by darkness and death they became something inhuman. I know of Night Fangs, Inferno, and Sisterhood assassins alike who sleep with daggers under their pillows at night. I envoy those who do not know of the Shade’s existence. It brings me great displeasure to alert you of their presence, Dear Reader. For if one is unlucky enough to awaken to see a great looming shadow above their bed, it will already be too late. The bladed kiss of death will be the least haunting part of the experience.”
Jacob Sternly - The Book of Assassins. 1315.
The Dorchester Docks were alive with light, yet The Wailing Siren floated alone in the far darkness of Hook Harbour. In the harbour’s circular, centre bright and flaming lanterns hanged over the illuminated waters and the jade crystals underneath the sheet of sea glowed with a luminous emerald shine. The Waling Siren had no lanterns hanging from the sides nor any signs of life from within. At the harbour’s end, there was no emerald light around The Wailing Siren. It appeared to only behove ghosts and the crashing black waters sang a sad song from under its hull. The figurehead ornamented at the bow of the ship depicted a woman with dark green hair and a voluptuous figure from above the waist. Her jaw opened abnormally and unnaturally wide, with elongated fangs protruding from all corners of her seaweed-green lips. Her eyes were slits with yellow reptilian eyes and the fingernails at the ends of her stretched-out arms were as long as katanas.
The Night Fang overlooked the decadent vessel from the top of a wooden post overlooking the whole harbour. He hunched over the post with both his hands and zaffre boots like a cat. The fire within the lantern below him had already withered away, the night’s darkness cradling him into obscurity. He studied the vessel intently and ground his teeth behind his mask. He leapt down from the great wooden post and made his way towards the ominous ship. There were no watchmen in sight, nor any Inferno assassins, thieves or any assortment of foes patrolling the wooden platforms that surrounded the vessel. He leapt from the platform and onto the side of The Wailing Siren, climbing over small, squared windows, arrow slits, and hanging and unused ropes in order to ascend.
When he peeked over to observe the top deck, he saw small groups of crewmen hauling cargo around. They were all gaunt men in torn tunics and jackets. Hushed commands were being barked at by a bald pirate with a long black and braided beard in a dark coat.
He could hear the fastened sails bellowing in the night-time wind above. It was unusually quiet for a manned ship, as if they had something to hide.
The Night Fang took notice when one crewman slammed down a strange spherical iron ball beside a stack of crates and was promptly reprimanded for his apparent carelessness. The black-bearded quartermaster shouted curses at him as two other crewmen grabbed the man. The bald pirate with the braided beard and thick jacket condemned him to be flogged. As the flagellation commenced with the crewman silently accepting his fate, the sphere was delicately moved by another crewman that carried it hesitantly with beads of sweat pouring from his flat forehead. He delicately placed the iron orb into a small box at the edge of the top deck and briskly paced away, trying to get as close to a run as he could without sprinting.
As the howling rule breaker was whipped against a large mast, the Night Fang climbed downwards in search of a different opening. He found a window on the third deck that was narrowly large enough for him to creep through. As he crawled into the third deck’s interior, he found more of the strange iron spheres stacked beside a thick beam. The pile sat alone and far away from everything and was cornered off with a thick rope and a wooden barricade. The Night Fang cautiously approached the pile. He lightly reached his gauntleted arm through the barricading planks and glided his scarred fingertip around the jagged surface of one of the spheres. He could feel an intense heat emanating from it and quickly retracted his hand away. He did not like this ship one bit, nor what some of her cargo seemed to withhold. The iron orbs were no mere pirate weapon. Of that, he was certain. He was then drawn to a faint conversation echoing from the deck below him. He found a narrow and steep stairway and followed the voices.
On the second deck, he found Inferno assassins in bronze and iron demonic masks shuffling crates of cargo. Each crate they moved brandished a red X in the centre. He could still hear a faint female voice down the far edge of the deck. The other voice she spoke with was gruff, rusty, and deep. The Night Fang crawled behind crates as large as horse carriages, slowly yet stealthily edging closer to the whispers.
He could hear the soothing sounds of The Wailing Siren rocking back and forth atop the bed of water and she seemed to softly sing through the decks of the ship as the Inferno assassins hauled and continued stacking in sullen silence. When the voices could finally be heard clearly, the Night Fang gazed around the corner of a vertically stacked crate that was so tall it pressed into the ceiling and ground against the crossed wooden beams above.
“I am disappointed, to say the least,” the female voice said. The Night Fang finally got a good look at her. Her hair was a deeply fluorescent dark red and the back of her black and scarlet striped jacket was embroidered with studded silver spikes. An eyepatch the colour of darkened blood covered her right eye, yet her round face was enchantingly beautiful. When she spoke, her voice was melodious and calming.
“I told you they couldn’t be trusted,” the man told her gruffly. His beard was thick, and ginger with a silver front tooth hidden under the unkempt bush that glinted when he opened his mouth to talk. He clutched a rapier sword that hanged under his long black jacket with a hand adorned with bronze and gold rings on each finger. “Allow my men to take over their duties, Lady Greyheart,” he implored tremulously.
The woman he called Greyheart shook her long red hair that shined and danced around her shoulders. She raised an eyebrow above her eyepatch. “Forgive my candour, Captain Hackett, but I will not entrust further duties to a bunch of pillaging and plundering sea raiders. At least the Thieves Guild has a code of honour to live by, or so I had thought.”
The Night Fang felt the ship tilt slightly and a flurry of creaks harmonised. Another noise boomed and conquered the sounds of creaking crates. Large rattling and clanking became louder and louder. A figure that the Night Fang recognised from the New Jade City Library emerged into his peripheral vision. The giant Samurai kept his face hidden behind a silver and spiked, yet strangely human-like facial mask. He lumbered towards Lady Greyheart carrying a long spear.
He spoke mechanically, as if there was no actual human within the armour. “My Lady, one of the Captain Hackett’s men has been caught stealing Purestar from the containers.”
“Splendid,” Lady Greyheart responded chirpily. Her white stainless teeth glimmered when she smiled. She approached a nearby desk wedged between rows of medium-sized containers and sprung open the locks of a small box. She withdrew a bronze syringe. Within the syringe’s transparent glass laid a strange black liquid. It seemed alive as it slowly crawled and dragged against the glass, like wild blackened lava trying to melt itself free. Lady Greyheart flicked the tip of the long needle and a small black drop erupted and made a faint splash beside her boots. Despite it being one measly drop, the Captain of The Wailing Siren jumped back and grunted in the same way someone would when they have seen a large scorpion crawl towards them. The enchanting woman with the red eyepatch smiled playfully at Captain Hackett’s overreaction.
“What an auspicious opportunity. I have been meaning to test the new formula.” She tilted her head and gazed at him inquisitively. “Tell me, Baraz, what would you fear to see standing over your bed when you awaken at night?”
“You, My Lady,” Captain Hackett said resolutely.
“An interesting answer,” she said with pursed lips. “Everyone sees something different. I wonder what your Purestar addict will see?” She gazed deeply into the syringe’s dark, thick waters and seemed to lose herself within them.
The Night Fang watched her with equal parts unease and fascination, attempting to determine where she stood within the Inferno. He watched as silently as a forlorn and forgotten spirit, thoroughly tucked away around the large, towering cargo containers of darkened wood. His breath had been held for the duration of Greyheart and Hackett’s conversation. Yet the red-eyed woman did something inhuman…
Her eyes drifted away from the syringe that her gaze had been so thoroughly fixated on and she raised her thin red eyebrows towards the Samurai. “Jannik, the Night Fang that killed your mentee, is hidden behind the crate to your left. Enjoy fate’s treat.”
Hackett’s eyes widened, and he jumped back and unsheathed his rapier. The metallic Samurai turned his kabuto and ghostly mask with a screeching clank. The hallowed and vindictive eyes behind his silver face met and connected with the Night Fang’s. Lady Greyheart merely took a step aside with her hands behind her back, as if she were about to observe some passing street performance.
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Behind his black and sapphire mask, Hideo cursed angrily. How? She had not so much as glanced in his direction, yet she knew he was there and only the spirits knew how long she had been aware of his presence. The Night Fang leapt away from the pile of crates. He sprung onto Captain Hackett and deflected a slash of his rapier with a sapphire gauntlet. Before either of them could make another move, the metallic Samurai picked up the Pirate and tossed him aside like a discarded rag doll. The giant ghost wanted the Night Fang all for himself. He thrusted his spear into the Fang’s direction.
The Night Fang jumped back and gripped the spear with his scarred fingers and pulsed a wave of charge into the steel weapon. The Samurai threw the spear aside before the lightning’s current could reach him and grabbed onto the Night Fang’s shoulders. Through the round holes in his silver face, the Night Fang could see an animalistic rage in Jannik’s wild eyes. No longer was this armoured brute Lady Greyheart’s obedient and servile bodyguard. He was a bear that had been released from his cage. His plated steel gloves pinched and twisted into the Night Fang’s upper arms as the Samurai lifted his prey above him.
The Night Fang struggled. Knowing that using the outmatched strength of his arms would be futile, he kicked his zaffre boot upwards, connected it into the steel Samurai’s silver chin. He spun backwards out of the giant’s grasp and landed on his feet.
Without hesitation, he rolled towards another small pile of the mysterious iron spheres that had been laid out in a pyramid on a nearby table. He grabbed one and raised it above his head. He felt the brewing heat breathing against his gloved palm. He heard the iron orb make a meek screeching noise through his fingers. It was the sound of a kettle reaching its boiling peak. His gamble was judiciously made as the metallic goliath promptly ceased his stride and stood watching him, frozen back into a metallic statue, unflinching and expressionless.
A dozen Inferno assassins were dashing through the deck towards the ruckus, but they were all halted in their tracks as Lady Greyheart raised her hand dismissively. Her fingernails were painted a ruby red and her hand was as soft as silk. She stepped towards the Night Fang with a studying eye. “Interesting,” she commented nonchalantly. Her red hair seemed to pulsate waves of scarlet glimmer.
“Your men seem afraid of these things,” the Night Fang echoed as he displayed the orb between his thumb and index finger for all the surrounding pirates and assassins to see. The Samurai remained motionless, all the beastly rage and anger controlled. Captain Hackett rose from where the Samurai had knocked him down in a fury. He looked at the Night Fang with bulging eyes and the cheeks above his ginger beard went pale as milk. Lady Greyheart did not seem concerned in the slightest. She took another confident step towards the Ninja Assassin.
“Are you mad, witch!” Hackett bellowed, forgetting his courtesies in a blind panic.
The Night Fang raised the iron orb higher. “Not another step.” He echoed the order. “The man in the raptor skull mask,” he then demanded. “Where is he?”
She took another confident step, brazenly disobeying his order. Her red lips morphed into a gleeful smirk. Her eye gazed at him wildly and in excitement. She spoke soothingly. “Tell me, Night Fang; What would you fear to see standing over your bed when you awaken at night?”
She took another step, and the Night Fang went through with his threat. He threw the iron orb. The orb hurtled past the red-eyed woman’s spiked shoulder, colliding into a wooden beam in the far corner of the deck. There was a loud and sharp bang, and all the Night Fang saw was whiteness.
His vision began to return to him after some moments, but everything was blurry and opaque. All he could hear was white noise and a piercing ring. All he could rely on was his sense of smell and touch. He scented burning wood and rising smoke. Then came the unpleasant nasal sensation from the chemical fumes of Purestar and melting Momentum.
He felt a metallic shove send him back onto the hard wooden floor. The blurs evaporated, and he saw the silver and spiked face of the Samurai towering over him. A golden and sandy smoke encircled the two of them like a desert storm. The Night Fang rose and heard more explosions and wailing fires erupt from behind. He could hear pirates and assassins alike screaming, but he could not tell if they were fleeing or dying. What have I done? He thought tremulously as the Samurai lifted him and tossed him through the walls of the smoke storm.
Sweet fresh air greeted the Night Fang. He saw the illuminated harbour and all its small barges and fishing boats that floated over the jade waters silently like swans. He saw the beautiful sight from the giant hole that he had blown into the ship. The harbour’s view was framed with flames that stretched around the deck’s walls. He twisted to his other side to see pirates and Inferno assassins fleeing up the stairway from the crackles and bursts of wildfire. He felt immense relief. His little stunt did not seem to kill anyone, or least no one who wasn’t a part of the Inferno.
As the Night Fang arose, he saw the giant Samurai emerging through the clouds of dark smoke. Jannik made a step towards him, then suddenly stopped. His silver face watched him silently, and he steadily stepped backwards into the clouds, immersing himself in the fumes. Behind his black and sapphire mask, Hideo appeared mystified. His face scrunched in confusion. The Samurai had been winning the fight. He was larger and stronger, and his armour was impenetrable. Yet he left.
That was when Hideo felt a small prick intercept his upper right arm. He turned to see Lady Greyheart grimacing at him with a bit lip. Her soft hand was still gripped around the bronze syringe that was plunged into his arm. The Night Fang tried to leap away, to pull the needle out, to push her away… yet his mind did not obey. Sandy smoke started to swirl around them. The harbour could no longer be seen as the grey and gold clouds consumed everything around them. The Night Fang went to move his arm towards Greyheart, yet it slowed, moving as fast as a worm, freezing to death. The movement around his hands stiffened and when he went to move his legs, all they did was twitch in their position. He tried to turn his head away with his neck. It barely inched and instead fastened in the red-eyed woman’s direction.
“Do you feel it?” Lady Greyheart asked. Her luminous red hair was dishevelled from the explosion, and her round face was covered in small cuts. “That’s your body slowly turning into a cage,” she explained to him in sick delight. “You aren’t even granted the privilege of screaming.”
The gold and black smoke tightened around them. It morphed and twisted into a dark gold mist that floated and entrapped him with her. She was right. When he tried to speak to her, all that he mustered was a small and pleading gasp. His chest tightened and his jaw was locked into place. He looked at her desperately with fearful blue eyes that had lost their lightning. He could not look anywhere else as much as he tried.
“Are you looking at my eyepatch?” she asked as she pointed at it. She chuckled and shook her red, shimmering hair. “Do not feel ashamed. Everyone looks.” She leaned in towards him and whispered, “Would you like to see what’s under it?”
The Night Fang was powerless. He could not even shake his head in a pathetic attempt at refusal.
She delicately placed her soft hand on his frozen shoulder and with the other, she tucked her crimson locks of hair behind her spiked shoulders. Then she gently pulled the scarlet eyepatch upwards. Small black spiders crawled out of the blackened socket in an infinite stream. They scuttled down her jacket and around her arms. Then Hideo could feel them crawling around his legs. It felt like a thousand small pins were stabbing into his upper legs and arms. Then the black spiders were crawling around his black and sapphire breastplate, trying to break in with their sharp and rapid legs. When they began to scurry around his mask, one of them crawled over his eye. Hideo was too scared to blink. The spider lingered atop his iris and made a screech.
Greyheart’s face turned as pale and white as a frozen corpse. She grabbed Hideo by the arms and when she tried to speak, a mouthful of black spiders erupted from her mouth and splashed over him. Grey moths and flying red ants dribbled away from the sides of her pale lips and swarmed. Her left, unpatched eye melted into a dark sticky ink that slid away from the socket and oozed down her white cheek. She pushed Hideo’s stiff body onto the floor and laid on top of him. She screamed hideously and hauntingly. It was a banshee’s wail. A cry that could only be heard in the dead of night in the most remote of forests.
She vomited a flood of red ants onto his face. They crept around his eyes and all he could hear was a ringing white noise and a ghoulish wail. The insects began to consume him, covering every inch of his person. She wiped the insects away from the visor of his mask so that he could continue to gaze at her ghastly, decaying face. The endless oozing ink from her left eye started to leak onto him and her jaw extended unnaturally and dislocated when she screamed.
Hideo was granted one privilege. He could close his eyes to avert himself from the hell he was experiencing. He closed them tightly, feeling more spiders and ants crawling over his eyelids. He tried to isolate himself from everything, concentrating. He remembered how he arrived at this point, remembering Hiroko, Evalina, Hugo and Ada. Anastasia… Then he thought of the Viscount and the Velociraptor’s hallow eyeless sockets that watched him as he succumbed to poison. Then he remembered Star Snow and after a while, the fear began to subside and was replaced with a burning rage. He felt his hands burn and seethe. Wild blue sparks erupted from his scarred fingers and spread across his palms and across his forearms. The wailing ghoul jumped back and the spiders and red ants that crawled around his arms were eviscerated and reduced to sprinkled ash. The wilder the lightning raged, the more control he started to regain some of his body. He could move his arms and pushed himself up, yet his legs remained stiff and frozen. He moved agonisingly slowly.
The Night Fang determinedly crawled through the wall of whirling golden dust. He felt the grains of wooden sand and sawdust creep under his mask and into his nostrils. He leapt. He did not know where. Moonlight touched him like a concerned mother, and he felt as if he had returned to reality. The lightning around his arms withered away, and he saw the illuminated jade waters below him getting closer and closer. He hit the bed of the harbour’s waters and was sucked down into the depths. Hideo swallowed in litres of the sea as he felt swift relief. Drowning was a better fate than what he had escaped from. He feared that if he passed out at that moment, he would not die but awaken in a bed with that haunting woman standing over him, spiders crawling out of her eye sockets. He channelled his strength and desperately swam up for dear life. Beyond the surface of the water, he could see orange bursts of light as The Wailing Siren continued to explode. Faintly yet chillingly close, he could hear Amaya’s last words to him. “You’re going to die at the docks tonight, Hideo.” He could feel the current pull him in deeper.