Chapter 41: Deadbolt Danger!

Electric storms crashed and exploded in the sky, and the righteous ire in Vega ignited!

Each step, each movement, and every second she walked with Sabere built up a tension within herself. The bandits had done a poor job of prospering pening and organizing the cargo stored in both the boxes and the pots. Aside then a box full of newly made sandals, all that she carried laid untouched.

“Did ya say which one it should be in?” Vega asked, using the end of a hammer to pull out the nails on a barrel.

“Ani never told us really. Said something about a stamp.” Sabere kept the details light, keeping his eyes fixed on the back of Vega. “Ena, you want to hear a joke?”

“Sure.” Vega felt his gaze burn into her, but kept her cool and fake voice.

“What do you call a woman that doesn’t break after the first hit?”

“What?”

“My wife.” Sabere told, laughing through closed teeth. Giving one of the types of laughs that comes from a single strong breath out from the nose, Vega humored him despite the tension. Sloppily peeling off the last nail made the contents of the box spill out, bundles of cereal plants. Seeing it made her feel off put, a sort of horrified curiosity.

“What’s this-this?”

“Oh. That’s for a secret tool we’ll use later.” Sabere knew exactly what it was. One of the many ingredients needed for a type of Soul Gem, the one that Ani had told to Runtaii.

A cracking thunder bolt struck just outside the harbor, burning up loudly. Crowds of both Tripolian and Iozian turned in shock and awe at the destructive brilliance of the strike. All except Vega and Sabere, one who was too afraid to move, the other who was too focused to move.

“...maybe it's in-in that one.” Vega had seen the stamp on the last box, some ten feet away. But she drawed out her opening on each box, trying to buy time for Skaldi to hatch the plan. She wouldn’t have any way to confirm that Skaldi completed it until she finished her task. And yet, with every minute she spent there increased the chance she would be detected along with Skaldi. Decisions decisions.

“Ena, have you ever been to Core Civitus?” Sabere interrupted her thinking.

“Once. I spent most of my time-time in the western parts.” She recalled a familiar place of simpler life. Vega felt it was best to keep her false story vaguely tied to her real one.

“What is it like there? I heard they held a big celebration once. A… concert, is it called that?”

“Sure, but I never went to one of those.” Vega looked over her shoulder and saw Sabere's eyes close in disappointment. Sensing that he wanted to relish in the details, she offered more description. “Uh, but Core Civitus is quite the place-place. Crowds of different folk, dense buildings, and beautiful landscape.”

“That’s pleasant to hear. While I dislike the ways of Iozian mingling, I can appreciate the art of your people. Well, to a certain degree.”

“Would Runtaii agree?” Vega’s mouth, again, got ahead of her mind. She wished to have taken that question back immediately, cursing her desire to learn more.

“That’s a more complicated question than you might think.” Sabere brushed his wet hair to the side as sprinkles of water struck the ground.

“How so?”

“He is a neutral party. He dislikes that you guys are so forgiving of your enemies. And yet admires your comradery. He hates your immodest fashion, but he loves your art. Its bizarre, isn’t it?”

“How so?” Vega made her pace snail-like, being carried to open the next couple boxes not out of caution, but out seeming like she was genuinely taking care of the task.

“Hmm. How to explain… the way a heart can have two different and yet shared motivations. Like wanting to improve oneself yet enjoy others.”

“Or a-a person learning to love oneself versus prioritizing others?”

“Yes. Yes indeed.” Sabere made strong, hard steps towards Vega. She froze fearing that had finally found out. Laying his hand on her shoulder, he squeezed twice and made a grunting sound with his nose. “I think it's the last box. That one has the stamp.”

“Oh. Right sir.” Running quickly, her body got ahead of her wishes. This box had a stamp that resembled rusted armor, and Vega took one last effort to stall for time.

“Huh. You know, in some time, maybe we'll all visit Uvi Jantok. I heard there is a bank there. Iozia’s finest institution.”

“Never been there.”

“I know.” His voice said this so simply, like he was speaking of the weather or the cold. “A bandit like you wouldn’t know what to do there.”

“Ya are-are sure. How would ya know?”

“Excuse me?” Sabere spoke as if he was offended. Vega didn’t care whether he really was or not.

“Have ya ever had a conversation? Not just with an Iozian, but with anyone?” Vega’s hands moved more readily, more sure. More proud. “Because as far as I can tell, all your relationships are trades.”

“The hell? What are you talking about?”

“No one really talks like ya do. Everyone else is friendly and close, and yet… ya are so distant. Like what's happening around ya isn't really happening, or rather ya don’t really care.”

“It’s my job to not really care. That’s how I get food on the table.”

“Ha. I have a job too, and despite that, I have a life outside of that.” Vega’s normal, odd voice returned, because she didn’t care to keep up the facade. She didn’t even notice that she was speaking. All of it was a direct stream from her consciousness.

“What do you mean life? What life do you speak of?” Sabere tried to turn this conversation into another cruel joke, but Vega wasn’t having it.

“Do ya have any friends you’ll go to? Any people that love ya? Not just because they pay ya or work with, but actually want to be with ya?”

Sabere scowled and kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to give Vega any more ammunition.

“Didn’t so-so.” With that, she pulled the last nail off and the board covering the box fell. Smaller glass containers packed between pillowed fabric stood along the box’s walls. Tripolian letterings with a yellow paper background wrapped these containers, as a red brown alcohol sloshed in the glass.

“Grab one. Bring it with us.” A cold order from Sabere. He didn’t like this game anymore. Vega listened, holding her head high, having a self righteous anger in her.

What? Don’t like helping people?

Unlike what she had imagined, Runtaii’s ship collected Iozian trinkets instead of weaponry to destroy. Not necessarily a leisure boat, as rows of benches meant for rowers took up most of the top deck.

But certain things were off, like statues of wooden saints were at each corner. Stryker metal was pressed into Tripolian nails and door handles. And all of the men despite being a disciplined military force wore their shirt collars up, much like Iozian soldiers.

Bits and pieces of Iozian culture survived on a ship designed to annihilate the same people. If you can’t say that is peak ironic humor, you ought to laugh at hypocritical things in life.

“Hello. How are ya?” Vega was talking to a statue, convinced that it was some kind of natural spirit binded to the vessel. Upon seeing that the statue kept its lips shut, the scarecrow patted its shoulder. “Good talk.”

“Why the hell are you taking so long? Get down here.” His voice drowned down below, in the ship’s dark hold. Vega moved to the stairs, and went to light a candle but realized she left all of her gear with Skaldi. Her eyes gazed out to the geysers of water, continuing to fire up into the sky around the town. She wondered how the world could be so majestic and yet so ugly at the same time.

“I’ll find out.” Vega told herself, as she descended down the stairs. “I’ll figure it all out.”

A rustic dark surrounded her, like a blanket over the head of a sleeping child. The footsteps of Sabere were far in front of her but she did not see him. In the rhythm of this pace she could not even feel much life. The settling of the walls snapped, the waters outside sizzled. However there wasn’t the same life here as there was in other places.

The walls had plastic like decorations, nailed down furniture that seemed to be made of false wood, and no person’s breath or voice could be heard.

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No chaos or controlled order, more like a room with no exit. A graveyard with no people. Dead and alone.

Following the noise of where Sabere came from was difficult. The further she went, the hazier her few senses were. Her own steps sounded off. Not only the usual soft and barely noticed taps on the ground she made were not there, but it felt like there were two of her. Rather, it sounded like there were two but one of them was slightly ahead or behind in the step.

The type of sound that comes from marbled ground that echoes a person.

“Creepy. So creepy.” Holding her pickaxe out in front of her, she whispered alone. Her face on her shoulder, looking back and forth everytime one of the footsteps cracked the floorboards behind her.

Hallways and stairs assured her that she was moving toward her objective, but there had to be someone following. She knew she hadn’t got crazy. Eventually, she stared at feet when she walked, trying to see if there were any significant differences.

Bumping into a set of metal armor, she nearly fell with it. But reflexible grabbing it, she pulled it back up and stabilized the stand.

“Get over here. Now.” The voice spoke, muffled by a door in front of her. Shooting her eyes back and forth, and saw only a rusted set of armor. No one made themselves seen to her. Turning the knob of the door, she opened and pushed herself through.

A metal grate in the ceiling rained the evening moonlight down on the two men. One was Sabere, who was acting a guard near the door. He wasn’t holding anything, but his fists were clenched.

The other must have been a decade older than the young assassin. His hair was tied up into braids that were held together by military pins. Definitely having been cut recently, his chin hair and mustache was short and trimmed. His booted feet laid on a horse saddle onto a bench as he sat on a cushioned stool beside a desk. Setting the box of Desert Mirage down, Vega noted that Runtaii had a very punchable face.

“~Is this the one?~” Runtaii tilted his head slightly at Sabere.

“~Yes sire.~”

“What an incredible person.” His voice had none of the stutters and pauses that often accompany learners of a foreign language. He stared at Vega, just as one would stare at a statue, painting, or other great work of art.

“I'll try my best, mister.” Putting up the false gruff voice she used before, Vega crossed her arms and tried to seem uninterested. In fact, she was very interested and who this person was.

He’s my tool. Just like you are.

“Our master, Runtaii of Clan Galabag. And notorious for being loud and obnoxious.” Sabere curtsied and over dramatically flourished his hands pointing at Runtaii.

“Oh, hush Sabere. You’re lucky I call you by your name.” Shaking his fist for a second at him, he kicked his feet up and rested it back on the ground. “You are Ena, correct?”

“...what?”

“You’re Ena, right? Don’t tell me you're also a fool.”

“No! No, no. I just… heard something. That’s all. Yes, I’m Ena.” Vega, not keeping eye contact with Runtaii, had started looking at the moon. Her mask was slipping for a movement and she frantically tightened so that they wouldn’t see.

“But of course. I never get the sane servants.”

“I’m sane.” Sabere said, laying his hand on his chest.

“The hell you are.”

“Why did you bring me here to talk-talk about?” She couldn’t handle the wait. No more bickering or small talk, just the facts. Only the truth.

The Tripolian’s eyes met and they stayed on each other's forms. Vega felt that they were visually handshaking each other. That their agreement and terms were about to be proposed.

“You did a task. A task which, to my understanding of servants and workers, is not tough for a single person, not long for a single person, but simply impossible for a single person.”

“I guess I was just-”

“No.” Runtaii halted Vega at her feigned suggestion. “You were able to pick up hundred pound cargo in succession, anchor them down by yourself, and complete the task in under eight minutes.”

“...if it makes you feel any better, it was under seven-seven.” Vega understood what had happened. She played a game that no other man could win. All in the effort of saving time? No. All in the effort of not being scared longer then she wanted to be.

“You know, it surely does.” Runtaii rose from his stood and put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Take off the mask.”

Wavering on the brink of total humiliation, the scarecrow wondered if it was even worth it to listen. Perhaps it might not be fruitful, maybe not to her advantage, Despite this, she wished not to disappoint. First taking off her mask and bucket helmet, she stood solemn and quiet. Soon, her whole disguise and armor laid on the ground.

Not able to withstand the scornful silence, she posed wide and proud, much like she would in front of a kind audience. Except, there is no one to provide her any empathy. Not in this violent place.

“Surprise! I'm not really a person.”

Don’t sell yourself short now.

“Shut up!” Slamming the bucket directly into the ground, Vega had broken a part of the wood, sending fragments across the room. Sabere and Runtaii didn’t flinch as the bucket bounced up onto the desk.

“And you're demented as well. Truly, the… jackpot, as you Iozians say.”

“She’s not Iozian, it’s a freak of nature.” Sabere glady tortured her, happy to give her punishment for her talking back to him. For making him feel insecure, he would do the same to her.

“...stop.”

“Not so brave now, are you?” Putting both hands on his hips, Sabere bent down to the side of Vega’s face. She looked away, with quivering brows and eyes at the ground. Sabere, in the faintest sense, appeared to be a little shocked by the discover.

“Brick of iron had told me about you. And that, I shouldn’t interfere with you.” Runtaii fingers slowly wrapped around the hilt, like a snake coiling around it’s kill.

“Brick-brick of iron?” Vega’s knees clicked together as he feet spread buckled and quivered. Again, Sabere seemed puzzled by this relation, and his face showed that he was in rapid thought.

“Oh, you have no idea how small you are in all of this.” Drawing his sword made a metallic crackle, sending a spark flying out. Raising his sword high above his head and grappling Vega with her off hand, Runtaii held full power over her.

“Wait!” Sabere's voice broke his master’s rage, as Runtaii’s hand fell.

“...wait for what?”

“We can’t kill it.” Sabere stood between Vega and Runtaii, forming a triangle of motives. “She holds information, critical knowledge.”

“Wha-wha-what!? Are you demented boy?” Runtaii waved his sword hand at Sabere, which he didn’t move in fear or reaction.

“Think about it.” Sabere laid a hand on his master's forearm, gently guiding his sword down. “Ani Arma didn’t tell me. But he had told you.” Sabere's eyes pierced Runtaii’s violence, tranquilizing it.

“Hmm. Why would he have told me? You are loyal to him, are you not?”

“Indeed. In spite of this, the fact that he choose you to know and not us Assassins, means something. Why wouldn’t he tell…” Turning back still to Vega, he brushed Runtaii off and grabbed her by the shoulders. Even her shirt and wooden limbs ripped at his grip. Sending full force into her, he slammed her into the wall, making a dust cloud around her.

“What. Do you, know?” A stern and harsh tone took his voice. Sabere slammed her once more, shaking her as if she had the key to life itself.

You are doomed.

You will die here.

Either by blade.

Or backstabbing all that you are.

What are you again?

Nothing.

Nothing but a failure…

Pitter platter. No more… she won’t be threatened any more.

“The moon. Have ya ever seen the moon rise over the wastes?” Vega’s voice remained stalwart, still fearful, but prepared.

“The hell? Tell us what you know-” Sabere face twisted. It twisted around something.

The assassin’s face twisted around the scarecrow’s punch.

Rocking back on his feet, he couldn’t have anticipated that one. Runtaii too was shocked and then inspired. What could have driven her to stand and fight in a battle she would certainly lose?

“No. I don’t want to.”

“You have to. That’s all you are, afterall.” Sabere brushed his cheek with his fist, shakened but venomous. “You’re a damn scarecrow. That’s all you are.”

“You’re wrong!”

“What’s really the difference between your friends and us? All relationships are merely transactions.” Sabere believed this lie with every fiber and muscle in him. And believed this as much as believed that the sun would rise in the morning.

“You’re a fool.” Growing more bold, she stuck out her arm, holding her pickaxe in an iron strong grip. “We’re not mindless thralls, we don’t simply give and take. We make and share! And if you think I’ll follow ya around, you’re an idiot.”

Give it up.

Stuttering her stance, one of her hands went to her head. Three fears punctured her form. What is happening?

You know you can’t take the pain.

An awful crushing in her body took place. A long pain in her head. A pressure like her skull being flattened in a single point. It didn’t evaporate. Why can’t I remember?

In your one purpose, you have failed. To remain still. To remain idle. To only scare crows. No matter what you do, you fail in what you were made for. Don’t even try. You’re simply built for destruction.

All of the feelings around her, something was off. Like a shadow that's malformed, a wrong color. Or a carving with no name. A hatred that smiled.

The world just ceased to move. No, like she was beginning to cease having control over her body. Her chains crushed her. She wouldn’t survive.

What am I?

“You’re more than enough.”

Florato was there, there with her. Not in presence. But in spirit.

“We’re going to make it.”

All around, circles of purple and red divine light cleared her dark vision. All around her, the people she had learned from and interacted with came back. The Priest, Tai Pai, the Snake Skin that sang with her. Everyone one, belonged and fused in her broken confidence.

“If you dare drop your pickaxe, if you give up, you forfeit everything above the stars and lose the world’s grand bounty.”

“So don’t give up. Because if I have learned anything from you, what matters is that we tried to make a world with less suffering.”

Skaldi, in majestic moonlight brilliance, manifested in her imagination. Laying his hands on her shoulder, a wind of energy took her. Fiery justice burned in her soul, ready to destroy all that is evil in the fields of life!

You can’t win!

“Yes I can! Because I am more than the acts I do to others! I am all the kindness and suffering in this world.” Vega’s vision returned, seeing Runtaii and Sabere in amazement and anger.

“From the emerald sea, to the thundering sky! Chaos and unity. Life and death!” Stancing up and twisting on her heels, the scarecrow swung her fist in front of the two killers.

“I am Vega! You won’t beat me, you, you.. clod!”

A heroic silence took her, proclaiming her the victor of this mental duel. Readying her weapon, she equipped herself for all that would come.

Just as Sabere and Runtaii drew their weapons, the ship shook as a great wave of water poured down the grate. Confused, Sabere looked up, seeing men run and fall around where he could see.

A heavy crash was heard and the door to the room had flung from its hinges and down on the floor. Amir, armed in battle gear, reached out for Vega.

“Amir!? You’re here?”

“~No time to talk! Move!~”