by J B Drake
“I’m nothing like you,” Anise spat. “You chose to remain a monster. You embraced it!”
A sad smile parted Anieszirel’s lips. “When the world labels you as a monster, why be anything else?”
“That’s a poor excuse.”
“Is it? What if Baern had never come for you? What would you have become?”
Taking a deep breath, the Archmage stood tall.
“I’d have killed myself,” she replied.
“What?” Marshalla said.
“Better be dead than be her.”
Anieszirel’s smile widened. “I don’t have that luxury.”
“Would you two stop bloody talking like that!” Marshalla exclaimed. “Nobody is killing themselves, you hear me? Nobody!”
Both mage and chronodragon turned to stare at her, one with a wry smile upon her lips, the other with a tight frown.
“And besides,” Marshalla continued, staring square at Anise, “she can’t have been so evil, right?”
Anise stared at her in silence for a spell, then turned to place her tunic in her bag.
“Alright, bloody ignore me, then,” Marshalla growled.
“Would you stop with the bloodys?” Anise snapped, spinning to the brooding girl.
“Oh, you want to give me orders, but don’t want to answer questions put to you, is that it?” Marshalla threw back. “Really?”
“Oh, so you truly wish to know?” Anise replied.
“Marsha…” Anieszirel warned.
“Yes, I bloody do!” Marshalla replied, ignoring the chronodragon completely.
“Marsha, let it go.”
“No,” Anise replied, her gaze upon Marshalla. “She wishes to know more, so she’ll know more.”
“This is stupid, Anise,” Anieszirel replied. “You telling her this will drive a wedge between you that will never come away.”
“What do you mean, wedge?” Marshalla demanded. “You don’t even know what she bloody did!”
“Stop cursing!” Anise roared.
“Make me!” Marshalla threw back.
“Enough!” Anieszirel thundered. “Gods, you’re both acting like children!”
Both Anise and Marshalla fell silent, but their glares upon each other spoke volumes.
Taking a deep breath, the chronodragon let it out slowly, then turned to Marshalla.
“Do you truly wish to know more?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Because I deserve to know!”
“What do you wish to know, then?” Anise demanded before Anieszirel could draw breath.
“What was she like?”
“Evil.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not! What was she like, Anise!”
“She was a butcher, Marsha! And yes, killing came to her as easily as breathing. We were very successful pirates, and boarding was our speciality. We didn’t care who we boarded, passenger ships, cargo, or even navy; we saw you, we boarded you. And, you know what? She was always the first one on and the last one off. Gods, even her name, Crimson Blade, she got that blasted name because she’d be covered in blood, head to foot, at every boarding!”
“Anise…” Anieszirel soothed.
“And gods help you if you were a passenger ship,” Anise continued, “because she’d show you no mercy. Men, women, children, she didn’t care! When battle was joined, none stood before her. And even after battle, she’d scour the vessel for more lives to take, however young.”
“Anise,” Anieszirel repeated, her voice louder.
But the Archmage was past reasoning, tears forming in her eyes as she thundered on.
“She was a horror, Marsha, her own captain was wary of her temper. I’ve lost track of the number of ports with bounties on her head for fights she’d start just so she could kill. Hells, there came a time when she wouldn’t be allowed off the blasted ship!”
“Anise!” Anieszirel cried.
Yet still, the chronodragon’s words slid past Anise, and, with her tears running free, she carried on.
“Lucius was the only one who would be around her, Marsha. A boy! Grown men shunned her! And do you wish to know what she did to that boy? Would you like to know how she treated her only friend in the whole blasted world? Would you?”
In response, Marshalla darted forth before lunging at the bed, and as she landed beside the Archmage, the quivering girl threw her arms around her dear friend and hugged Anise close with all her might, and in the silence that followed, the Archmage shuddered as she hugged Marshalla close in turn.
“It’s not you,” Marshalla whispered at last, shaking her head as her tears ran free. “It’s not you.”
“Of course it’s me,” Anise replied, raising her reddened eyes to Marshalla. “I’m her. I’ll always be her.”
“No.” Marshalla shook her head. “You’re not her.”
“That’s the worst part, Marsha,” Anise replied. “She’s not gone, she never will be. A part of me wishes for her return. The mere thought of it repulses me like you can’t possibly understand.”
“You’ll never be free of her, Anise,” Anieszirel replied, drawing the gazes of her companions. “Better to channel her, use her when you need her fury. It’s the better play.”
“I’ll die first,” Anise seethed.
“Like in the storehouse?”
“What?”
Anieszirel smiled. “You were hesitant, Anise, and it almost cost you your life.”
“I wasn’t—”
“I watched you fight. Taking a life to protect the ones you love doesn’t make you…her.”
“What do you know of it?”
Anieszirel’s smile widened.
“Let’s stop talking about this, eh?” Marshalla said.
“Yes,” Anieszirel sighed as she nodded, “let’s. So, Anise, what’s our next move?”
Sniffing, the Archmage wiped her eyes. “We sit and wait. Lucius needs three days, so we give him three days.”
“Speaking of which,” Marshalla replied, “where in the world are you going to get three thousand gold from?”
“What makes you think I intend to pay?” Anise smiled.
“Can we trust him, though?” Anieszirel asked.
Anise turned to the chronodragon. “Of course not. But he won’t try and betray us till he’s learnt as much as he can about my supposed employer.”
“You think he’ll do all that running around for only three thousand, though?” Marshalla replied. “There were a lot of pirates in that room.”
Anise smiled. “Oh, they’ll do the running around, Marsha. They’ll do because they’re dreaming of more than three thousand.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Remember when he asked me if the three thousand was what I was expecting to get, or simply all I was planning to trade with?”
“Yes…”
Anise’s smile widened. “Well, you can bet your last coin they’re all dreaming up several more thousand gold that they going to squeeze out of my employer and I.”
“Ah!”
“Precisely.”
“And all we have to do is sit and wait,” Anieszirel added.
“Ugh,” Marshalla growled, then rose and headed for her own bed.
“Oh, so my company is now too odious for you?” Anise shot at her.
“Well…”
“Young lady…”
Giggling, Marshalla sat and turned to her companions, but as her gaze fell upon the chronodragon, her smile dissipated.
“Ani?” Marshalla said.
Anise turned to the chronodragon, and as she stared, her own smile vanished.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Hrm?” the chronodragon replied.
There was no smile upon the chronodragon’s lips, but a seriousness that spoke of ill tidings.
“What is it, Ani?” Marshalla said. “What’s wrong?”
The
chronodragon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then turned to Marshalla.
“Ani?” Anise said.
The chronodragon turned to the Archmage.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” the chronodragon began. Then, shaking her head, she sighed once more.
“I felt a presence in that inn,” she said. “The same presence I felt when I met you both in Barrow.”
“What?” Anise exclaimed.
“And you didn’t say anything?” Marshalla demanded.
“There were a lot of people there, Marsha,” Anieszirel replied. “I didn’t sense it till just as we were leaving. And even then, I wasn’t sure at first. It’s been plaguing my thoughts since we left.”
“But you’re sure now?” Anise asked.
Sighing, Anieszirel nodded.
“What makes you so sure?” Marshalla asked.
“Because now, I know what it is.”
“What?” Anise asked.
“It’s a vampire, my dear, only…different. And old.”
Anise and Marshalla exchanged glances.
“Neither of you must leave this room on your own,” Anieszirel continued as she rose. “We all leave together, no exceptions.”
“I’ve faced vampires before, Ani,” Anise smiled.
Anieszirel shook her head. “This one is beyond you.”
“I can take—”
“Would you stake Marsha’s life on that?”
Anise fell silent at this.
“I didn’t think so,” she said, then rose. “You two get some sleep. I’ll stand watch.”
Then, without another word, the chronodragon turned and began casting wards and protections upon the room.
Panting slowly, Marshalla stared out the window as she sat cross-legged upon her bed.
“Urgh…” she moaned, her lips ajar as she slouched upon the wall against which her bed was nestled.
There was a tray beside her upon her bed, a tray upon which sat a large bowl, empty save for a few grains of rice stuck within it.
“Urgh…” she moaned again, her voice louder than before.
“You’re not dying, Marsha,” Anise scolded, the edges of her lips curled upwards as she ran her comb through the damp mess of tangled hair upon her head, “so stop it.”
“Urgh!” Marshalla moaned in response, flopping against the wall as she did so.
“Marsha…”
Marshalla turned to the Archmage.
“Enough. Nobody asked you to each so many rice cakes.”
“But they tasted so…”
Just then, the young girl leant forward as her gaze drifted into the ether.
“Marsha…?”
Ignoring the Archmage, Marshalla stared into the ether some more, till at last, arching her back, the gluttonous red-head let loose the most enormous burp.
“Oh, gods…” Anise sighed, shaking her head.
“Was that necessary?” Anieszirel asked, her disgust plain to see.
Smarting, Marshalla turned to the chronodragon as she stood near the open window, her astral frame shimmering in the light of the evening sun.
“Better out than in, Ani,” Marshalla said, her chin raised. “Always.”
“I don’t know who’s worse, you or Tip.” The chronodragon sighed.
As one, Anise and Marshalla stared at each other.
“Tip,” the pair said in unison, nodding as they spoke.
“Funny,” the chronodragon muttered, eliciting a chuckle from the pair.
“You’re not that much better right now, though, Marsha,” Anise chided.
“Well, can you blame me?” Marshalla muttered. “We’ve been stuck in here for an eternity!”
“It’s only been little over a day. Are you truly telling me you don’t have the patience to wait just two more days?”
“You’re one to talk, that’s your third bath today!”
“I like being clean, what of it?”
“Nothing,” Marshalla said, giving Anieszirel a knowing nod. “Nothing at all.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” the Archmage snarled, eliciting a chuckle from her young companion.
As Anise resumed her combing, a note slid underneath the door and across the room, coming to rest near the Archmage’s foot, and as a heavy silence fell upon the three, they all stared at the folded parchment before turning to each other.
“What is it?” Marshalla whispered at last.
“No idea,” Anise said, shaking her head.
“Perhaps it’s a trap of some sort?” Marshalla said, her eyes upon the parchment still.
“No,” Anieszirel replied. “My scrys show nothing untoward about it. There’s just ink within it.”
“Ink?” the Archmage said, staring at the chronodragon.
Anieszirel nodded.
“What’s it say, then?” Marshalla asked.
Staring at it once more, Anise rose, and, with the greatest of care, bent low and picked up the parchment. As she stood, she stared at her companions. They were both staring at her.
“What’s it say?” Marshalla repeated.
Frowning, the Archmage opened the parchment. As she read, her frown deepened.
“Well?” Anieszirel demanded after a brief silence.
The Archmage stared at her friends in turn, then back at the parchment before reading it aloud.
“They know where you are.”
“What?” Anieszirel frowned.
Anise shrugged. “That’s what it says.”
“Who knows where we are?” Marshalla asked.
“The pirates,” Anieszirel replied before Anise could draw breath. “It must be.”
“How did they find us?” Marshalla asked. “We’ve not left this room.”
“Nevermind all that,” Anise replied, looking up from the parchment. “Who sent the note?”
“Your friend Lucius perhaps?” Anieszirel offered.
“Hrm.” Anise frowned once more, then stared at the parchment once again.
Then, there came a knock at the door, it’s sound hitting the three like a thunderbolt.
The knock came again.
The three shared glances before staring at the door.
“Ani?” Marshalla whispered.
“I sense four at the door,” Anieszirel replied.
“Four?” Anise asked.
Anieszirel nodded.
“Hrm,” the Archmage muttered before turning to the door.
The knock came once more.
“Who is it?” Anise demanded.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” replied a young voice, “but a parcel came for you. Seems the courier needs signage for it.”
“You need four people to accept signage?”
Silence was the response.
“Well?” Anise barked.
“Courier came with a friend, miss, it’s them two who brung it up. I just came to make sure they didn’t break anything and went to the right room. Worzul’s just nosy, he is, wanted to see what the fuss was about. Sorry, miss.”
Anise frowned at the door. “You don’t sound like you’re from around here,”
“No, miss,” the voice replied. “Came from out west two summers ago.”
“I’ve never heard your voice around the tavern before today.”
“Been working in the kitchens, miss. Today’s me first day out front.”
“I don’t sense any of them straining under a heavy load,” Anieszirel said.
“Where’s the parcel now?” Anise yelled at the door.
“By the door, miss. Not half heavy!”
As silence fell upon the room, Anise turned to her companions.
“If they came to harm us, they’d be trying to burst through the door,” Marshalla said.
“Unless they intend to separate you two,” Anieszirel replied, “barge in when the door opens and kill whichever of you opened the door.”
“So, what do we do?” Marshalla replied. “Ignore them?”
“That parcel might be from wh
oever sent the note,” Anise said.
“Or there’s no parcel,” Anieszirel replied.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” the voice came once again, “but these boys be looking to leave with the parcel.”
Sighing, Anise made her way to the door.
“Anise, no!” Anieszirel said.
Anise shook her head. “It might be from an ally.”
“Or it might be nothing!”
The chronodragon’s words did little to dissuade Anise, but as she reached the door, the Archmage muttered a string of arcane words under her breath, calling forth a faint blue aura about her.
“This is folly, Anise!” Anieszirel added.
Anise glared at the chronodragon a spell before turning back to the door. Undoing the binding spell upon it, Anise unlocked the door then grasped its handle, swinging it open just enough to allow her peek into the corridor beyond. Then, gritting her teeth she peered through the door’s crack.
As she peered, however, a thunderous crack filled the air as a flash of light blinded the Archmage, the door wrenched from her grasp as a force slammed against her bubble right between her eyes and sent her back a few steps.
“Get down!” the Archmage heard Anieszirel cry as Marshalla’s shriek filled the air.
Unsure of what lay before her, Anise did as Anieszirel ordered, and as she dropped to a crouch, the sound of whistling steel reached her ears as she felt something long and curved slice above her head. Without pause for thought, the blinded Archmage threw a clenched fist out before her, and as she felt her fist barrel into soft flesh, the air was filled once more with a deafening roar, and another, and another, all of which emanated from within the room, and as Anise’s vision cleared, her gaze fell upon four lifeless bodies strewn within the corridor, one of which lay on top of another.
But that was not all she saw, for further down the corridor she glimpsed an open doorway, one within which several pirates stood, all staring dumbfounded at the dead bodies, before turning to stare at her, and as their horror turned to rage, the grimacing Archmage slammed the door shut before recasting her binding spell just as the door’s handle was tested from the other side.
“Happy now?” Anieszirel roared.