The sharp snaps of bones being kicked side echoed through the darkness. All the Night Fang had for an ally was a Thief Queen. Meanwhile, Dorian had the remnants of his clan and Greyheart at his disposal. The Queen of Thieves led the Night Fang through the catacombs, which bled into the underground sewage tunnels. They made their descent through buried and forgotten passages that even the Night Fang did not know existed. These tunnels belonged to the Thieves Guild alone. Or so they had.
“Where are the rest of your rats?” the Night Fang asked her.
“They fled,” he heard her say stiffly as they stepped through the dark. “Fled from the Velociraptor. Fled from you.”
“I’m sorry our paths went this way,” he echoed remorsefully.
“Dudley and I will rebuild.” Her magpie cane glinted in the dark as she used it to pry open an iron gate. He could not see her face behind the darkness of her hood and her large domino mask. He could tell she was angry. Her voice was a wall of cracked ice about to break. “As long as the ruling class of New Jade remain, so will the rats, the raccoons, and the magpies that await in the dark to take back what is theirs.”
They emerged out into the streets. The moon had fully risen in all its splendour, beaming through the darkened misty clouds. It would not be long until the beacon was lit. Already there were flames from nearby buildings that were blending into the mist, orange and grey, with a smell of decay.
Rows of heavily armoured watchmen crashed into the waves of rioters down the end of Python Street. The Night Fang thought of Grey Wallow and the Khan’s iron rule against his people. Lucius Church could be seen on the horizon behind them, a towering cathedral with three spiral towers. One oblong-shaped watchtower stood betwixt them. A perfect spot to light a beacon. So close and yet so far. Rivers of rioters swarmed through the streets, the walls of watchmen acting as the rocks their tide crashed against. The City Watch were not being lenient with the stragglers. Watchmen were beating down people who were not even involved in the rebellion, merely the unlucky ones who were present at the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I know another way underground,” the Thief Queen said. “Unfortunately, we allowed the Inferno to access those tunnels. Dorian’s dogs will be down there.”
As they approached the Inferno infested tunnels, the Night Fang was surprised to see who was standing guard by the ominous entrance. “Oh look, you’ve brought a friend.” Amaya gave the Queen of Thieves a derisive look as she leaned away from the stone wall.
The Thief Queen frowned behind her black and gold domino mask. “You didn’t inform me you would be bringing this savage beast with us, Assassin.”
“Would you rather it be just the two of us facing Dorian’s army?” he asked. In truth, Hideo was not expecting Amaya either. Until this point, he was not sure if she was even alive after the palace siege. He felt… gladdened. He approached the Archer and placed a scarred hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for what you did back there. I have to ask why…”
“I’m paying off my blood debt,” she said in a tone that denied any argument. “Then you’ll be free of me.”
“Amaya… what I said back at the Pax chapel-”
“I’m not leaving because you said some mean words to me.” The scars around her face swirled as she frowned. “When I first left for Darkfall, I wanted to be free from the Queen Quiver’s control. Now though… I see the Empress is no better than the rest of them.”
“Surely the Empress had not known,” the Night Fang insisted. “Of Sigismund’s crimes. If she had… things would have been different.”
The Archer raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Perhaps she had already known. We still don’t know her true name, for spirit's sake!”
The Ninja lowered his head in resignation. He was losing faith in his clan, in his city. In himself. What could be said to defend the Empress? She who had him kill many all in the name of her warped interpretation of justice.
Amaya scowled under her hood. “I do not wish to return to that violent cult, nor do I wish to remain in New Jade with its overabundance of crime and chaos.”
“I thought those would have been your idea of paradise,” he said.
She pulled her zaffre hood back and tilted her head under a sconce’s nearby firelight. Her many facial scars were laid bare for the Night Fang and the Thief Queen to see. “Look what the Fraternity and this little paradise has all done to me.”
Hideo had first joined the Night Fangs in hopes of finding a family and a sense of belonging. Deep down, he was relieved to learn that he wasn’t the only one to be disappointed. “If that is your wish,” he echoed.
“I would like to either die of plague or stop Dorian sooner rather than later,” the Queen of Thieves muttered as she stepped down the decaying stone stairs. The two Night Fangs followed. It was time to face an inferno.
The Night Fang soon found himself traversing through cylindrical-shaped sewage tunnels. There was a grim stench of rot and piss, and the cavernous surroundings were barely lit. The Night Fang followed Amaya and the Thief Queen. Their footsteps splattered into the thin layer of green water that dwelled in the tunnel and fell deeper the further they walked. The underground was silent. Darkness hanged like the webs of shadow from the curved corners. They waded through the tunnels for some time before the Night Fang raised his hand. It took a ninja to know a ninja’s tactics. Amaya had already nocked back an arrow. The sapphire bow shined as she released her grip. One demon-masked assassin fell from his shrouded corner and landed in the sewage water. A blue feathered arrow jutted from his back as his body floated.
It was like poking a hornet’s nest with a stick. They all detached themselves from the dark, curved walls. The way their shadows moved and contorted as each of them stood. Rosamund was right. They truly were demons. Then what did that make Hideo Horio? The Night Fang heard a dozen blades unsheathe. A katana swung from the black and he deflected with his sapphire gauntlet. He was kicked into the wall and katana and gauntlet locked into place. As the Night Fang struggled to force the stubborn demon away, he saw the Queen of Thieves fending off two assassins with her magpie cane, the pointed ends of the crown stabbing one Inferno underling into his shoulder. Grunts and war cries flashed across the cavernous darkness like the reflected lights from the sewage water’s ripples.
Amaya’s sapphire bow made a sweet clang as it spun into one assassin’s head and knocked down another by breaking into his shin. They were fighting the horde away well. Despite that, he knew there were too many of them. He saw more Inferno crawling from the shadows, rising from the water, amassing through the tunnel like a murder of crows. Meanwhile, Dorian Ambrose would soon be lighting his torch in preparation for the fatal signal.
The demon the Night Fang duelled with got the better of him. The katana dashed from his gauntlet and the hilt jabbed him in the shadowed side of his mask. The Night Fang fell into the cloudy waters and was kicked down. The Inferno Assassin bore a mask resembling a snarling oni, crazed and with horns sprawled around the forehead. He cursed in Arkovian as he kicked the Night Fang down again. More demons swarmed around him. They kicked and jabbed with their katanas. He meekly deflected the slashes of blades with his gauntlets, but the kicks and punches were weakening him. Under his mask, he could feel a slither of blood trickling from his nostril.
He could feel his hands beginning to burn. They started to throb and shake. The searing vibrations began to ripple through the veins of his arms. He was losing control. He was allowing it. There is no other way, he thought in pure terror. No other way. Pax forgive me…
His fingers lit up in blue. Small streams of lightning bolts swarmed around his gauntleted arms. He gave his attacker an uppercut, and the demon went skidding through the water, spasming. He slammed his gauntlets together and a wave of pure blue light flashed. Lightning hissed, and the rest of his attackers were flung into the curved walls and spasmed in the sewage water.
Without conscience effort, he stood and leapt onto another of Dorian’s lackeys, sucker punching him in the back of the head. Blue bolts continued to flare around both of the Night Fang’s arms. The fool went down in one punch and blue sparks fluttered as he fell.
Amaya was in the midst of holding an assassin in a stranglehold with her sapphire bow when she took notice of the Night Fang’s arms. “Don’t let the tiger out, Hideo,” she cautioned as she dislocated the Inferno assassin’s head with her bow. “Remember Shino’s face. Remember what you did to mine!”
He tried to think back to that night, but instead of Shino’s weeping face, he saw Rosamund’s. He remembered how she cried and wailed as she watched Dorian burn her father alive. He thought of Greyheart’s smirk as he watched a thousand spiders crawl around his helpless and paralyzed body. The sparks began to stretch to his upper arms and blazed around his torso. He was losing control of the power. The Inferno continued to swarm around them. He could remain a Night Fang and allow the three of them to die in the dark with the rest of the city to follow. Or he could let the tiger out.
“Get out of the water,” he yelled back to the Archer and Thief Queen. He withdrew three shurikens from his belt. Each death star caught the lightning and sparked through the tunnel as he threw them. They each struck a different assassin, one in the arm, another in the leg. The third was hit through the eye socket of an oni mask. They shook and flailed uncontrollably before falling into the water. The bolts crept through the water’s ripples and more assassins started to convulse where they stood.
Only three of the Inferno’s brood remained. They held iron orbs in their rusty-gloved hands. “Get back,” he called back. Not because of the imminent explosions that were directed their way. The lightning was still rippling through his body. He couldn’t make it stop. There was an inexorable rage consuming him. He noticed how pale his scarred fingers had become. He knew what was taking him. He looked back at Amaya. Her scarred face had never looked at him in such fear.
The rival assassins threw their orbs in unison. Walls exploded, and the tunnel began to collapse around the Night Fang. Rabble and debris fell between him and his companions. It didn’t matter. The woman’s scarred face was already strange and unknown to him. All he could feel was the lightning in his body. It was already too late.
*
He needed to feed. He crawled up the tunnel and sought prey standing in the water. They moved so pathetically slow, holding their tiny metal sticks as if that would save them. He bolted down and latched onto one. He stuck his fangs into the shadowed man’s neck. He felt the sweet energy rejuvenate him. The lightning flared wildly around them both. It warmed him. Sustained him. The two other shadow’s shrieks were deep and slow. It annoyed him, and he pounced on the second. He was becoming faster.
The third shadow moved like he was underwater, desperate, yet slow at reaching for a blade under the sewage and rubble. His prey moved at the pace of a slug. He feasted on him next. When he was replenished, he jumped from corner to corner of the tunnel. His energy would soon fade. He needed more. More to feed upon. He pounded into the water, to the ceiling, to the sides of the tunnel. He pounced forward, desperately searching for more power. He crawled upside down. He saw a large hole in the ground. He could feel the vibrations of motioning shadows below. More…
He leapt into the hole. He landed in a large underground chamber. He stood atop a large marble circle. White pillars propped up the remnants of a decaying ceiling above. There were a dozen shadows that jumped away from him in fright and scrambled for their weapons. He was elated at the sight of them. Their metal toys would be of little use. He zigzagged between each shadow, biting into arms, legs, necks. Any side that they left vulnerable was a delicious source of energy. He bounced and bolted from shadow to shadow. They moved so slowly. It was amusing and he cackled in one shadow’s metal face before he pulled off the mask to expose the pudgy soft spot he could bite into. The lightning blazed. The power was bliss.
He bolted to the next shadow, except there was no shadow to bite into. The shadows all laid around him, lifeless, and drained of their sweet energy. The summer was over and there was nothing left to harvest. He panicked. He needed to feed. He needed more. He could already feel his lightning evaporating. He felt his body draining. No! No! No!
He bolted circles around the underground arena, frantically seeking more energy, more power, more life. The sparks simmered. Colour returned to his skin. He felt his pulse freeze. Everything became darker. The blackness closed around him. He hissed and shrieked. He went out like the last flickers of a dying fire.
*
Hideo awakened in a pool of blood. His head throbbed waves of icy pain. His teeth caned, and his fingers felt as if the bones inside had dislocated and relocated repeatedly a dozen times. He pulled off his mask to see a large hole at the bottom half where the mouth would be protected. His identity could still be concealed well enough with it donned. Still, that meant whatever… thing had taken over had tried to feed again.
As he stood, he saw the bodies of mangled Inferno around him. More bloodshed. Their helms had been ripped off. Hideo inspected the puncture wounds around the neck of one. He could taste blood in his mouth and felt disgusted. He tried to keep the shame and horror at bay until after he stopped Dorian. If Pax did exist, and he failed to stop the Thane she would be most wroth at all this needless death. He tried walking. The beast’s indulgences had taken all the strength away from him. He felt faint and every muscle in his body ached. Pain snapped around his legs and he was reduced to a limp. He picked up one of the discarded katanas and limped towards the stairway. The Inferno bodies would lead him to Ambrose.
Through the ruins of the underground, he encountered decrepit stone stairs. Every step was a struggle. His shoulders burned and his chest ached as he heaved up. His shadowed arms and leg wraps were torn. There were dents in his black and sapphire breastplate, including the crystallised side. He was in no condition to fight the Thane of the Inferno, yet he had little other choice. Even his own thoughts were weary. Keep moving, keep moving, never give in…
The stairs took him into the ruined interior of Lucius Church. Benches were broken and shredded by time. Dust draped the pillars. An old and torn portrait of Areos hanged beside a broken stained-glass window. The wreath-adorning wolf watched the Night Fang with dark, judging eyes. He would have to get in line behind the rest of the gods that he surely would have angered by this point.
He could hear shouts and cries of civilians and watchmen alike from outside. He took the spiral stairway to the top of the main tower. As if he wasn’t weak enough already, each step took just a little more life from him. He feared he would pass out from fatigue before he would have a chance to fight against the Red Plague’s release.
The Night Fang found Dorian Ambrose standing under a stone canopy that overlooked the Shards. Flashing lights stretched across the dark horizon of the city like stars rising from the ground. Smoke from burning buildings reached the church’s highest tower and danced slowly around the night sky. A bronze brazier was perched underneath the canopy. The Knight was dressed as the Velociraptor. His crimson jacket flashed next to the flaming torch he was holding. The white raptor skull under his pointed scarlet hood almost looked as if it were sweating. There was a shiny sheen around the hollow sockets of darkness. The skull turned crookedly towards the tired and broken man.
“Night Fang!” he greeted in sick delight as he waved the torch. “You aren’t looking very peachy. My men give you that much of a bollocking?”
The Night Fang took a step closer and felt a crack beneath his boot. He looked down to see fissures crawling across the stained-glass patch of the roof. That meant that at least half of the tower’s roof was weak and precarious. From behind his shattered mask, Hideo was still regaining his lost breath back. He planted the bladed end of the katana into the stone half of the floor to help balance himself. It hurt to breathe, with every inhale feeling like a punch against his ribs from the inside. He raised his other hand. He tried to summon something, anything, from the tip of his scarred fingers. All that came was a weak twinkle from the end of a fingernail.
“Performance issues?” Dorian asked from behind the skull mask. The bottomless pits of darkness watched him curiously. “I hear that happens to a lot of men at a certain age.”
Hideo was able to modulate his voice. Just. “This cruel game is finished, Dorian,” he faintly echoed. “Sigismund is already dead. Soon the city will know who you are. You can walk away now. Innocent people don’t have to die for someone else’s deeds.”
The Thane of the Inferno raised his clawed finger and waved it. “No, no, no, kitten. Then the message will not deliver its full impact. Other tyrants must learn that they are not above consequence.”
“Neither are you.” The Night Fang limped towards Dorian’s sword. The Thane of the Inferno had left it propped up against the parapet. Hideo unsheathed it with his free hand. Now, wielding the katana and the luminous steel belonging to the Knight, he stepped towards his opponent. The Velociraptor watched him with his dark sockets. The white skull gave no emotion away.
“Very well,” the Night Fang echoed. “Do your duty, Sir Dorian.” He chucked the sword. It clanged as it fell and skidded to a halt beside the Velociraptor’s boots. “Fight like a knight.”
*
The dust stung her eyes. The tunnels were becoming suffocating. As the brown mist caused by the wreckage faded, she saw the Thief Queen coughing and using her magpie cane to keep herself steady. “I saw something… strange,” she said in between her chokes. “In his eyes.”
Arrowcat felt the thick scars across her face scrunch together as she smirked. “Let’s just say that we’re lucky to be on this side of the collapse.”
They returned from whence they came. Walking past the trail of floating dead and unconscious Inferno minions as they trudged through the green waters. The air did not feel fresh when they departed from the tunnel either. Smoke drifted through the city streets and shouts and cries wailed in the distance from the nearby riots and bedlam.
The Queen of Thieves followed her out. The eyes behind her domino mask were more scornful than usual. How Hideo managed to convince her to aid them was a mystery to Arrowcat. She expected the Thief Queen to stab her in the neck and take her sapphire bow to add to her collection. Much to the Archer’s surprise, she walked ahead of her without even uttering a scathing comment. “There must be another way to the tower,” she mumbled.
“Where is your beloved King?” Arrowcat asked. She received no answer. Only a burning glower.
They stalked around the rustic ruins of Lucious Church in search of an alternative path. The riots had since moved on from the church’s surroundings, the crowds dissipated, and the walls of watchmen having left detritus in their wake. The riots were a tornado that had left the Shards in ruin as it swirled around the borough. Where it would wreak havoc next, Arrowcat could not say.
The main entrance doors of the church had been barricaded shut. They ventured around the back of the church in hopes of another secretive entrance. The smoke and fumes caused a hazy brown mist to drape over the graveyard. They found strange figures gathered around the ruined tombstones. As they snuck closer through the darkcorners, the shadows became clearer.
Arrowcat recognised the hulking Samurai from the New Jade City Library. The metallic and ghostly face closely observed two Inferno assassins that tinkered with a bronze and phallic-looking contraption which they had set up beside a looming decayed memorial. A woman wearing a black mask to protect herself from the forthcoming plague fumes oversaw the three of them. Her hair was scarlet, as was her eyepatch, and her black and red jacket was studded with small silver spikes. She walked around the strange device with her hands behind her back, inspecting intently. The assassins that tinkered flinched when she brushed past them. One of them retrieved a strange glass jar from a crate. An orange liquid glowed inside.
The Thief Queen’s eyes widened behind her domino mask as they watched from the thickets. She nudged the Archer with the bottom end of her magpie cane. “This must be a detonation point.”
“It won’t be the only one,” Arrowcat said. She watched as a cannister containing the orange ooze was inserted into the side of the contraption. A mechanical turning sound screeched across the empty graveyard. When the beacon was lit, the liquid would turn to mist and then the bodies would fall. “Go find the others,” she whispered to the Thief Queen. “Sabotage them. Our mutual friend tried to fight the Velociraptor before. I am not hopeful that we can rely on him to stop the beacon.”
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The Queen of Thieves gave Arrowcat an incredulous look. “You mean to face the red witch and Jannik alone?”
Jannik. That was the ghostly Samurai’s name. Arrowcat made a note to taunt him with it profusely when she confronted him. “Go,” she ordered the Thief Queen. “If you can find the other detonation points, then there may still be hope that we don’t choke to death on our own blood tonight.”
The Queen of Thieves heeded her and snuck out into the darkness beyond. Arrowcat was left alone with the four Inferno sycophants. She emerged from the thickets and cut her way through the brownish mist. She nocked a steel arrow back. The sapphire arrowhead soared and penetrated the neck of one of the tinkerers. Before the second could react, a steel arrow had already been embedded into his throat. The tinkerers gargled and fell together. She set another arrow free, and it bounced off the metallic shoulder of the Samurai with a clank. The Samurai appeared unfazed. His spiked, silver face gazed down on the Archer. The eyes were visible behind the sockets, and they seethed.
“Hello Jannik,” Arrowcat greeted as she raised another nocked arrow in his direction. “Lovely night for a plague, is it not?”
The woman with the red eyepatch stepped forward from the contraption. She tilted her head in curiosity. The brown mist seemed drawn to the woman as it swirled around her. She delicately removed her mask and smiled at Arrowcat with ruby-red lips. “Lord Haytham mentioned an Archer that caused a ruckus at his castle.” Her voice was soothing and unsettling all at once.
Arrowcat released the steel bird as her response. Jannik punched the arrowhead away with a metallic fist before it could hit the woman. His metal suit of armour rattled as he charged towards her, spear in steel hand. Arrowcat rolled out of the way as the steel behemoth crashed through the tombstone behind her. The stone crumbled into dust as the Samurai steadied himself and readied the spear for another round. He charged forward again. Arrowcat rolled away and fired an arrow. The sapphire arrowhead pinged off the back of his armour. We’ll do this dance all night if I don’t find another approach.
She withdrew the curved blade from her belt as she ran into the behemoth. She latched onto him from the side and crawled around his back with the movements of a spider. The steel giant flailed around, blindly smacking at his own metallic body. The clangs vibrated around the whole graveyard. Not once did he hit the Archer. She climbed to his shoulders and began hammering down the dagger into any exposed crevasses in his seemingly impenetrable suit. She stabbed rabidly as if she were severing a chicken’s head off. She felt cold steel grasp her hair and yank. She shrieked as she fell on her back. Air escaped her and her chest tightened.
Her head throbbed as she turned and grasped the Samurai’s boots. If there was no weak point, then she would have to make one herself. She tugged at the black boot and the Samurai’s silver face landed in the mud. She tossed the boot out into the mist and slashed her blade across Jannik’s bare ankle. She could hear the toppled giant wail as she stamped her zaffre boot into his metallic back to keep him pinned into the mud. She pulled up the other steel leg and yanked the second boot. She slashed the exposed tendon. The metallic shrieks boomed into the mist as she kicked the back of his helm deeper into the mud.
It felt good to conquer a giant. Almost too good. She thought that the sharp searing pain in her shoulder was part of the emotion until she saw the iron shaft sticking from her upper back. Before she could yank the embedded arrow from her flesh, the red-eyed witch smacked Arrowcat with the end of her stolen sapphire bow.
Arrowcat fell to the ground, cradling her new wound. “You think you’re the only one that can play with bows?” she heard a soft voice hissing on top of her. Arrowcat felt her hair yank again and her scarred face was shoved into a muddy puddle. She coughed out dirt and runny mud as she felt Redeye twist and turn the arrowhead under her shoulder. The pain was excruciating. It burned acidicly, as if a giant scorpion’s tail had latched onto her. Redeye held her down. Arrowcat dragged her scarred face through the mud to see Jannik crawling aimlessly through the dying grass and moaning, his legs rendered useless and limp. What a bloody mess this all is.
Arrowcat could hear her own blood spurt from her back as she felt the arrowhead separate. Redeye wanted to face her. She twisted the Archer over onto her back and smacked the sapphire bow into her scarred face. The red-eyed woman discarded the bow and reached into her belt. She unholstered a bronze syringe. Arrowcat felt faint. She had no notion of how much blood she might have lost. She was awake enough to grasp onto Redeye’s wrist as the venomous woman attempted to plunge the pointed end of the needle down towards her face.
“Tell me, Archer,” Redeye began to ask as her glowing face made a gleeful grin, “what would you fear to see standing over your bed when you awaken at night?”
Arrowcat felt her hands tremble. The needle shook in Redeye’s smooth fingers. The pointed end of the syringe wobbled closer to the Archer’s nose. Arrowcat tilted her scarred fingers with pained effort. The pointed end ticked upwards and arced in the direction of the red-eyed woman. Their hands were locked into a gritty tug of war. Redeye was overpowering her until Arrowcat could sense her fatigue. The pointed end of the needle inched close to her. Arrowcat could see the fear swell in the witch’s one eye. She no longer looked so cocksure. One thrust...just one thrust. The Archer felt weary. She felt the brewing heat in her palms. She would not summon much. She just needed a spark. Her scarred fingers zapped a flash of bolts around Redeye’s hands. The red witch shrieked and released her grip. Arrowcat jabbed the needle into her cheek and kicked her back.
“What have you done!” she screamed as she crashed into the mud. She thrashed in the brown puddles, kicking water into the Archer’s scarred face. “No, no, no!” she kept shouting until her movement slowed. Her arms closed into a defensive stance and froze the same way a spider does before death.
Arrowcat stood to her feet. She looked over at the red-eyed woman. Her arms were still raised, yet her body was motionless, as if she were frozen in ice. The syringe was stuck out of her cheek like a bronze quill. Her one eye moved from side to side frantically. She wasn’t quite dead. Not quite alive either. Whatever she was, she was done. Arrowcat cast her gaze towards the crawling Samurai.
Jannik had dragged himself towards a nearby tombstone and raised his back upright against it. The black holes of his silver mask looked down at the bloody snail trail he had left behind him. He prodded and smacked his metal fists against his limp legs. The ghostly face tilted towards Arrowcat with a metallic screech and stared at her. He said nothing.
What I’ve given him is worse than death. She turned her attention to the bronze contraption and pried the vial away from the shaft. She used an arrow to help dismantle the contraption piece by piece. She felt faint and giddy. She reached behind her back. Her hand became coated in her own blood. It felt warm and sticky. Bandage the wound. Get inside Lucious Church. Don’t pass out. How hard could it be?
*
The rioting had swarmed into the north of the Shards. Rosamund scurried through the alleyways and the backs of rookeries. She could see flashes of torches each time she peaked into the high street. She heard screaming and the sounds of metal clashing against metal. The fear had numbed her. Bloodshed had become a regular occurrence. Her family was slain, her ninja guardian taken from her. What could they do to her other than end her misery? She was alone in the bedlam.
She found an abandoned ruin of a house a few miles away from the Pax chapel. The chaos was a wildfire that surrounded and barred her passage. The ruins would have to suffice for refuge. The roof had turned to ashes, and remnants of stone walls were all that remained for cover. She peeked around the erected stone shards. Overgrowth had laid claim. Foliage jutted from the ground, and seeped through the destroyed walls. To Rosamund’s horror, she saw that she was not alone in the ruins. A figure in shadowed clothing and armour was hunched over a protruding bronze device. Rosamund took another step, then retracted back around the corner. She heard the figure grunt. Rosamund manically swung her head back to the flaming streets, her heart pounding. She could still hear the screams and the clanging of metal. Turning back would be death. She peered around the stone wall again. It was him. The razor-sharp iron teeth were curled into a perpetual smile, the pointed nose sharp enough to cut flesh. The Demon turned his head away, focusing on the strange bronze object.
Rosamund struggled to breathe. There was no Ana, no Athena, and no Hideo. She was alone with the Demon, trapped with him betwixt swirling walls of violence. She also had nothing left to lose. Her family was gone, perhaps her home too. She crept around the corner, attempting to act like Hideo, silent and stealthy. The Demon was too preoccupied to notice her. He tinkered and fiddled with the strange bronze object which clanked and rattled so sharply Rosamund had to cover her eyes until the sound settled. One shoe became stuck in the sinking mud, and she had to wrest it free. The Demon did not turn his head. Screams and cries wailed in the air above them as she shimmied closer, shoes clamping on the mushy ground. She reached for the hilt of his dagger that peeked from his chained belt. It felt strange to be inches from her death. He would have no qualms killing her. He would take pride in it. It’s what Dorian wanted, after all. Yet all she felt was cold. Apathetic. Losing everyone around her made death lose its intimidating aura.
Rosamund fastidiously pulled the hilt from its sheath. The iron mask snapped back and locked eyes with her. She had poked the beast. Rosamund broke from her icy fear and stabbed him in the leg with his own blade. She wasn’t the first man she had stabbed these past dark days. What difference would one more make? The Demon boomed out a yelp. He dropped a strange glass container from his hands, which rolled across the dewy grass.
Rosamund tried yanking the blade that she had embedded into the back of his leg. She was smacked aside with an iron gauntlet. She fell into the mud, and crawled frantically, scrambling away from her bleak end. She felt the Demon’s iron glove grab and pinch into her shoulder. He pulled her back and threw her into the stone wall. She was back in the Duke’s chamber. Back with the smiling monster. Only this time there was no Ninja to save her.
A wave of sharp pain flashed down her spine as he slammed her back into the wall a second time. The Demon loomed over her. He plucked the blade from his leg and held it above her head. He pulled her hair back and hovered the cold steel faintly against her neck as if she were a chicken to be butchered in time for the feast. As she panted in fear, trying not to scream, Rosamund could see beyond the iron mask’s sockets. The eyes behind them were… conflicted. Not malicious. They reminded her of Hideo’s eyes back at Duke Hugo’s manor. The eyes of a man who did not want to do what he had been tasked to.
“You can let me go,” she whispered, trying not to visibly tremble, and failing. She could feel tears sting her eyes. “I won’t tell Dorian.”
The eyes behind the iron mask were watery. They flickered and attempted to avoid her gaze. It was interesting to be on the other side of the fence. Rosamund stared at him, maintaining eye contact, making him uncomfortable, clinging to some faint hope of swaying him.
She felt the blade prick against the skin of her neck and drag. Her own blood could be felt trickling down to her collar. She closed her eyes. She had tried her best. It was a fitting end for her family.
There was a pained grunt, and the cold sting of the blade drifted from her neck. She opened one eye to see the Demon desperately trying to pry something bronze that was wrapped around his neck. Wheezing and suffocating sounds boomed through his mask. A slender shadow in a dark brown hood was standing over him. A gloved hand grasped the side of the Demon’s head and twisted. There was a sharp crunching sound that snapped through the ruins. The Demon slowly tilted to his side and toppled over into the mud.
Then the bronze object that throttled the Demon was pointed at her. The bronze head of a crowned magpie with dark circles around the eyes. The sharp, pointed ends of the crown were held inches away from her eyes. The hooded figure knelt to her level. It was a woman, wearing a black and bronze domino mask, dark locks of hair peeking from the deep darkness of her hood. She raised her cane higher so that the pointed ends of the crown were pressing against Rosamund’s forehead.
“My, my, my,” the hooded woman said in a tone that put Rosamund’s heart racing in terror again. “It’s not every day one queen gets to meet another.”
Rosamund did not understand what the strange, hooded woman meant by it. The crowned magpie at the tip of her cane lowered below Rosamund’s neck. The pointed ends hooked under her jade necklace and tugged at the chiming chains, pulling them above her collar. Stupid girl! Why didn’t she discard it sooner? The cloak did little to hide her royalty. “I shall be taking this,” the Hood said.
Rosamund felt the back of the chain snap behind her neck as the magpie cane tugged. She grabbed onto her necklace and pulled it back. It was a gift from Ana, and her kingly father. She had received on her fourteenth birthday and had been told that it belonged to her late mother. Did her mother know of the man Sigismund truly was before her passing? Nevertheless, it was all that was left of them. She wouldn’t let the Hood take it. She would die before she let her take it!
The eyes behind the hooded woman’s domino mask became ablaze. She raised the pointed ends of her cane towards the cut at the side of Rosamund’s neck. “I should finish the job,” the Hood sneered. “Rid the city of this avaricious family once and for all.”
“Do it then,” Rosamund attempted to say defiantly. It came out as a whimper. She did not want to die, but she did not see much point in living, either. “Stop the cowardice and do it!”
The eyes behind the domino mask were fiery, the lines across the hooded woman’s forehead knotted. They did not relent at Rosamund’s defiance, yet the flames appeared to simmer. The crowned magpie lingered just above the surface of Rosamund’s lightly bleeding neck. The silence was torture. All Rosamund could hear were the distant shouts and cries wafting from the riots and into the ruins. The Hood grunted. The cane lowered. Rosamund exhaled deeply. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks.
The Hood stepped over to the bronze device the dead Demon had been tinkering with. Rosamund noticed the black cloak that wavered in the night-time draft. A bronze-crowned magpie stared at her from the cloak, too. The bird’s hollow gaze haunted her as the Hood started violently smashing the device with her cane. Each hit echoed from the ruins. Rosamund was terrified that it would summon the rioters. The Hood hammered the cane down repeatedly. Bolts and cogs came undone and flickered across the grass. The rattling and crushing sounds pierced Rosamund’s ears. She covered them and forced her eyes shut. After a while, there was only silence. “You better be a damn sight better than your father was.” The voice sounded softer this time. When Rosamund opened her eyes, the hooded woman was gone.
*
Their swords hissed into the night. Moonlight danced off the Night Fang’s katana, bounced from Dorian’s short sword and reflected against his white raptor skull. The bottomless sockets of darkness stared at the Night Fang intently. The swords screeched as the Night Fang dragged his katana away from his opponent’s blade. There was a screaming slash as the curved ends clashed and bounced from each other.
Dorian diagonally hammered his sword downwards. The Night Fang hated it when he did that. It knocked him off balance. They had been fighting for too long. Behind the shattered remains of his mask, Hideo was wheezing. Most of his skin was bruised or cut. Fatigue consumed him. He struggled to remain standing, let alone fend off the Thane of the Inferno Clan.
Dorian lunged a soot black boot into the Night Fang’s shin. Behind his mask, Hideo let out a whimper and fell to one knee. Just as the Inferno Thane swung his sword down, the Night Fang countered by spinning around him and throwing himself into the hooded fiend. Dorian was staggered as he fended himself away from the Night Fang. The Ninja took the chance and arced his katana on him. Dorian dodged, but not fast enough to make a complete getaway. The hilt of the Night Fang’s katana collided with the raptor skull hard enough that it was knocked from the Knight’s head. The skull rolled onto the glass side of the tower and skidded to a halt. The bottomless sockets of darkness watched them from the distance.
The face that looked back at the Night Fang appeared to be Dorian’s, yet he also looked hauntingly different. The fiery auburn hair, the chiselled jaw, the glowing face. They were recognisable. The change since were the bruises scattered around his face that he had accumulated during their two duels. One eye was bloodshot, and a scarlet line of blood trickled from his cut lip. And the hate. His eyes were filled with hate and scorn. He sneered at the Night Fang and crashed into him. He raised his steel claw as they landed onto the stone side of the tower. Hideo had learnt the hard way to avoid the raptor claw on his hand. He grasped Dorian’s wrist and twisted. The Knight shrieked and used his other gloved hand to grasp onto the Night Fang’s mask.
“It’s only fair game, kitten,” he hissed vulgarly as he tugged at the shattered remains of Hideo’s helm. Hideo’s dwindling strength was too focused on keeping the Knight’s claw at bay. The remnants of his black and sapphire mask pinched against his cheeks as it shuffled and broke free. The smoky night air felt fresh on Hideo’s bare and battered cheeks.
Dorian’s smarmy grin faded. He pushed himself away from Hideo and crawled towards the nearest parapet. He started to chuckle. A hard and long chuckle. He used the parapet to assist him to his feet. When he glanced back at Hideo, he started laughing again. “Anastasia’s little helper,” he said in near hysterics. “Small wonder you were so vexed about her at the library. Of all the Arkovians that worked at the Jade Palace…”
Hideo spat his own blood against the stone below as he steadily tried to stand.
“No hard feelings about Woodard, by the way,” the Knight said in a way that indicated hard feelings. “I knew that she took a liking to you.”
“That beacon will remain unlit, Dorian.” Even just the act of talking took a great amount of effort for Hideo.
“Of course,” Dorian said with feigned enthusiasm. “First, I’m going to drag my claw down your stomach and pull your guts out. Then I’ll light the beacon.” He charged into Hideo.
They both fell onto the glass side of the tower’s roof. Hideo could hear the crackling from under him as he grasped Dorian’s clawed hand before it slashed into his face. He punched the Knight in the jaw. Spittle flew from his mouth. The Knight looked back down on Hideo with untamed rage in his eyes, his auburn hair in disarray.
The icy crackles became louder and faster.
“How could you do this to Rosamund?” Hideo struggled to ask as the curved tip of Dorian’s claw inched closer to his eye. “You burnt her father in front of her eyes. Do you understand how you’ve damaged her? The trauma you’ve caused!”
“The screams my sister made on the stake were worse than Rosamund’s,” Dorian hissed. “This city is built on blood and should burn to the ground.”
Dorian’s clawed hand was trembling under the pressure of Hideo’s grip. Hideo twisted the Knight’s clawed wrist and heard a sharp shriek.
“You don’t get to decide who dies for another man’s crimes,” Hideo wheezed. “The city can be made better with the right people.”
“Oh, and are you one of them?” Dorian asked venomously. The other eye had become bloodshot during the brawl and blood trickled from his nose. “You’re a puppet for another tyrant. An assassin with a magic trick.”
“Not anymore,” Hideo panted. Their struggling arms were still locked into a stalemate. The venomous claw wasn’t far from Hideo’s skin. His eyes watered as he winced. “Not an assassin. Dorian, no one else has to die anymore. We can be better. We can stop bloodshed rather than carrying its torch.”
“Quite the idealist, aren’t you?” Dorian scoffed. “Alas, no one has brought me Rosamund, and the moon is rather full, so if it’s all the same to you, I think I shall light that beacon whilst you writhe around in pain.” The Knight wrested his clawed hand free and raised it high in the moonlight for a deadly swing.
Hideo decided to use a different approach and kneed him in the groin. Dorian grunted and rolled away. Hideo desperately tried to crawl from the glass side of the roof, but felt a gloved hand grab him by the boot. “I thought we were having fun?” he heard the Knight call out from behind. Hideo felt himself being dragged across the glass, the crackles fizzling underneath the two of them. Hideo pushed himself on his back to see Dorian arcing his clawed hand down. He deflected the slash with his sapphire gauntlet. There was a sharper crack. The force of Dorian’s attack was the last gust of wind to push the boulder over the cliff.
Hideo had felt a similar feeling of pure fear back when he was a boy in Arkovia. He was foolishly running across a frozen lake when he heard the ice crackle. He fell under the abyss before he saw it coming. Cold water burnt through his lungs and panic set in as he sank deeper into the dark. Hiroko had been there to dive in and come to his aid. Hiroko wasn’t there to save him this time.
Glass shattered around the two assassins like shards of ice breaking through the frozen lake he had fallen through so long ago. That same panic gripped Hideo around the chest as the rest of his beaten body felt faint. He thought that he would feel content regardless of having stopped a madman from ruining the city. That his death would be a sacrifice. Piss on that. All he felt was terror. For the first time in a long while, he was no longer indifferent to death. He wanted to live.
In his fleeting desperation, he grasped a dusty chandelier as he fell through the church. The chain broke loose and violently rattled. Glass chimed as metal screeched and the entire set drooped down with a howling rattle. The falling chain burned his fingertips as he gripped it. The rattling stopped, and the chain snapped back, chimes flailing. The pull was so sudden that Hideo shrieked as his arm was nearly pulled apart. He let go on instinct and continued falling.
He landed on the decaying remains of a bench. A puff of brown dust exploded around the decrepit church’s cold interior. His whole body stung. He coughed up dust and smelt mould and rut. As the dust settled, he saw the portrait of Areos looking down at him. The wolf’s dark and blank red eyes stared indifferently at the beaten man. Hideo attempted to twitch his leg. It moved. He attempted to move the other. A success. It seemed that he, at the very least, wasn’t permanently crippled. He tried to stand. He slipped on a wooden shard and another dust cloud erupted. The second attempt was equally taxing. He pushed himself to a stand and felt a sharp stab of pain across his entire torso. Evalina was no longer there to heal him. He missed her warmth, her comfort, her reason. If Dorian still lived, then he would still most likely die down here. Cold and alone…
He fell to the floor again. He felt weary. Disorientated. It would be so easy for Dorian to finish him off. He felt a hand grasp his torn shoulder. He recognised the coarse feeling of the skin, the rough bumps across the palms. It was a hand riddled with deeply burned scars.
“Hideo?” Amaya’s voice was unusually softer than usual. She almost sounded concerned. Her cold, scarred hands lifted him to his feet. He grunted at the pain.
“What have you both done to each other?” she asked shakily. Hideo cranked his neck towards her in confusion. Her scarred face was pale and bruised, her lower lip swollen and purple.
He looked over towards the remnants of the church altar. Dorian Ambrose had propped his back against the altar’s dusty side, his legs limp and ripped. A long shard of wood protruded from his belly. His claw was missing, the stump of his index finger lightly caressing the impaled wood. He looked down at his mortal wound in incomprehension. He coughed up blood and tilted his head up, staring gormlessly at Hideo.
“Hideo,” the Knight croaked, “tell Rosamund I’m sorry.” His eyes rolled back and forth. He appeared to be drifting from one court of reality to the next. Blood trickled from his nose and the corners of his cut mouth.
Amaya raised her bow at the fallen Knight, a sapphire arrowhead already protruding from it. Hideo knocked it away. “He’s done,” he said curtly.
“Have you lost your wits?” Amaya asked. “The Empress would want him ended most of all.”
“No more death.” His words were cold and final. The Knight seemed unlikely to survive, anyway. If he did, then when the City Watch found him, he would surely hang. It mattered not to Hideo. He was no longer an executioner. It was not his place to decide when a monster died.
They turned to leave the haunting place in silence, their footsteps echoing in the ruins. Amaya hadn’t been so quiet since their first travel through Arkovia. It was so long ago yet felt so recent to Hideo. The world seemed so simple back then. The lines of good and evil weren’t so blurred. However, the world had not become more complicated. Hideo knew this. He had only seen some more light through the dark. Too long had the shadows of his superiors deceived him. He would not allow it to happen again.
They were both in deep need of rest, many of their cuts and wounds perhaps beyond recovery. Hideo noticed how Amaya was walking. She wavered from side to side as if drunk. How much blood did she lose? She lost her balance and Hideo caught her in his weak arms. “We both need a physician,” he said in concern.
The Archer laughed half-deliriously. “Think they’re all a bit preoccupied trying not to get killed.”
“Thank you for coming back,” he said.
Amaya did not respond. Her head was slumped against Hideo’s dented breastplate. Hideo said her name again. Only the cold draft responded. Hideo felt empty and alone. All he had in this city was a City Watch Deputy that loathed him. Perhaps he would see Evalina again. Maybe she would forgive him. He wouldn’t give up the suit, but he would give up the dagger.
His fingers drifted over the scars across Amaya’s face. The guilt still burned. He had promised to keep the beast at bay. How many more times would he break his vow? At least you can finally have peace now, Arrowcat.
Hideo knelt to lay her down. As he gently rested her on the floor, Amaya sprang up like a wildcat and knocked an arrow. Hideo’s stunned eyes followed the sapphire arrowhead as it hurtled behind them and into the chest of Dorian Ambrose. The Knight had been standing over them with a katana raised above his head. The force of the steel arrow tore through Dorian’s chest. The Knight was launched back into the dusty floorboards.
“Apologies Hideo,” Amaya said, sounding completely fine. “I know you said no more killing, but I can’t abide backstabbers.”
Hideo stood over the Thane of the Inferno Clan. Dorian’s eyes were not blinking and appeared aghast as if he were looking at something beautiful. He smiled. Then the light left his eyes.