Black & Mist

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Black & Mist Page 6

by Thomas J. Radford


  Truth be told, Violet felt a bit weak at the knees at it all. Rich folk, haughty traders and all. She’d been hoping for someone like the last vendor, someone for whom getting yelled at and by was just part of the finer points of negotiating. These folks were more likely to kick her onto the street and slam the door if she got too uppity.

  Best get it over with then.

  There were steps to climb, a half dozen or so, to an imposing brick-faced building. It was domed, not square cut like most buildings in Port Border. Not thatched with straw nor tiled, but pressed stone, holding itself up like a bridge would. It was an oddity that stood out in the urban landscape.

  And she’d not gone two steps up when Violet realised something even odder.

  Her feet were wet.

  There was a steady stream of water running down the steps. Cold, even icy to the touch. In fact, there were small chunks of ice in the flow, being carried out onto the street only to melt in the midday sun.

  What the hells is going on here?

  The sound of commotion began to wash over her as well. As Violet reached the top of the steps, she saw people running around like so many headless chickens. And there was the source of the water, the domed structure was only the top. Stairs led down, deep underground and carved into the earth. The straw saved from thatching the dome had been press-ganged into service, stuffed into all nooks and crannies and cavities, all to provide a protective layer around the . . . ice?

  The dome was full of ice, a massive underground room full of half-melted ice. A handful of workers were shin-deep in the sleet, hauling buckets and pouring them out into the street.

  The bucket brigade were all Draugr, Violet noted through narrowing eyes. The only other person present, a Chrol.

  Ugly, big bruiser. Looks like the back end of a grandpa pig. So grey he’s almost blue. And those tusks . . . are those his teeth, how does he eat? Violet realised she was staring, also that the Chrol was staring back.

  “What’s you looking at?”

  The tusks moved. Lower jaw. Violet found her head moved up and down in time with them, bobbing as the Chrol talked.

  “That’s amazing,” she said, turning quickly to stand at the top of the stairs. A Draugr promptly emptied a bucket of glacially cold water over her feet. She squealed and jumped. The Draugr stared, puzzled.

  “What happened?” she asked, darting between the Chrol and the ice cellar. It looked immense, several times the size of the dome. The melted water inside was maybe as deep as waist high, wet stalks pulled free from the walls floating on top. Maybe half the space was still taken up by cut ice blocks, each half the size of Violet herself.

  “It’s melting. Why is it melting? Should it be melting? Is that what you want?”

  The Chrol stared. He looked confused. Maybe he wasn’t so smart. Ah, the doors, that was the problem.

  Violet crouched down in front of them, shivering as her tail dipped into the water. They were double doors, one wrenched off at the hinges. That was why the ice was melting, must have happened a while ago. The metal twisted and blackened. No . . . not wrenched. Blown, exploded. Someone had used black powder or maybe even . . . yes, there were shards of broken glass scattered around the base. Only not glass, crystal, thaumatically charged crystal.

  Violet twisted to face the Chrol. “Someone doesn’t like you.” It came out like a song. That was bad.

  Hadn’t meant to sing. Still need to buy salt. Should probably mention that.

  “I need to buy salt. Do I talk to you? Are you the one I talk to? Because if you’re not I should go talk to the salt man. Is it you?”

  “Go away.”

  “That’s rude.” Violet made a face. “Who broke your door?”

  “People who not like them,” the Chrol said, waving a hand at the bucket brigade behind her.

  “People don’t like Draugr?” Violet said.

  “Why are you still here?” the Chrol asked.

  “Need to buy salt, said so. Weren’t you listening?”

  “You see that?” the Chrol growled around his formidable tusks. Violet still couldn’t stop staring at them. “Warehouse is flooded. Bad. Boss be very angry. Very. Ice melt. Melting. Melting fast.”

  Violet shrugged. “You still have salt. Can I buy some?”

  The Chrol gave a huge sigh, the jowls around his magnificent tusks shuddering. “How much salt?”

  “A bag, maybe two. No, two, Gabbi said two. Two should be enough.”

  “Two?”

  “Is that too much?”

  The Chrol bristled, stabbing a finger at the mounds of salt in the fenced area. “Sell by wagon! Not by bag. Not! You waste time, no time for you. None!”

  The Chrol pushed one of the Draugr by the shoulder, causing it to stagger and nearly spill the bucket it was holding. The water sloshed around as the Draugr regained its footing. “Faster, water must go. Bucket faster.”

  Water must make it melt faster, Violet thought. Sod him though, all I wanted was some salt to take back to Gabbi.

  “Don’t see what the big deal is,” she said aloud. “Spend half a run scraping ice off the hull anyway. Can’t get rid of the stuff.”

  “Huh?” The Chrol stared. “You what?”

  “Nothing. We’ll just be going then.”

  “Wait, you wait.” The Chrol reached for her only to snatch his hand back when Bandit bared his teeth.

  “You have ship? You ship girl?”

  “Yeah, I got ship,” Violet said cautiously.

  “Got mascot too. That good, lucky. Mascot lucky.”

  Lucky. Better you than me, Bandit, for once.

  “Cold ship,” the Chrol went on. It was like watching him pull on a string. Clearly he’d had an idea, he just hadn’t got there yet. “You have ship, run cold.”

  “Yes . . .” Violet waited for him to finish.

  “You want salt, good, fine, give you salt. Lots of salt. And ice.”

  “Don’t want ice.”

  “Everybody want ice. Ice hard to get. Good Draugr work. Good price. You take.”

  “It’s all melted,” Violet pointed out.

  “Not this. This ruined. You get new ice. Good ice. Take to buyer. I win, you win, everybody happy. And salt. You get salt too.”

  Violet looked at Bandit. Was the Chrol saying what she thought he was? Bandit didn’t offer any answers.

  “What buyer?”

  The Chrol told her.

  Chapter 5

  HERE WE ARE again, Violet thought. All done for the day, been a good day, a real good day. She couldn’t wait to get back and tell the captain. And the skipper. Especially the skipper. Just the thought made her grin. Skipper was going to spray her drink when she heard. So long as she didn’t do nothing stupid between now and then.

  Like walk down a certain dark alley. Not really an alley. More like a street. Maybe a promenade. Whatever a promenade was. Fancy word for street, isn’t it?

  Could just walk on by again, just head on back to the ship. Ought to do that, nought down that way but trouble and asking for it. Asking for it. Questions. Questions were for answering. Weren’t they?

  Violet sucked in a deep breath, tasted all dust and gritty. Thumbs hitched into her belt, loompa on her shoulder. All indecisive. What was that word for when you felt like you’d been in a moment before?

  Should go back to the captain. Tell him about the job. Make sure he don’t forget about the job. Only . . .

  Hells.

  Violet chose the path that went towards the warehouse, where the Draugr and golems were kept. Her feet carried her faster the further she went, like they were afraid she might change her mind. Bandit didn’t like the pace and dove for the ground, scampering along beside her. The streets here were mostly empty so she didn’t worry he might get stepped on.

  And there it was: her destination, her target, her goal. The building she’d spied on the other day, full of golems and Draugr and Alliance uniforms.

  “Now how do we get in?” she said aloud. The bar
nlike doors at the front were shut, probably barred too. She didn’t see anyone on watch like she had last time but there was certain to be some inside. Hard not to notice doors like that being opened.

  She found Bandit had left her. A moment of cursing before she found him again, in the shadow of the warehouse, the mouth of an alleyway. Running on all fours, he looked back towards Violet, for approval perhaps or maybe to see if she was just watching, before running full tilt into the unlit passage.

  There was still no one watching but Violet made the dash across the street as fast as she could, feeling guilty and watched, heart pounding in her chest. She expected a shout of discovery but none came.

  Bandit was looking down at her from refuse piled in the alley. Discarded barrels and pallets, mostly scrap lumber, probably awaiting collection. And conveniently providing an aid to reach the open second storey doorway set into the side of the building. Bandit made the jump look easy, pulling himself up onto the doorway platform. It took Violet longer, once she was confident the pile of wood scrap wouldn’t collapse under her.

  The second storey doorway was some sort of loading point. One that doubled as a refuse dumping site. There were more barrels stacked up by the opening, all she could see as her eyes adjusted to the inside lighting. Some looked to be empty, waiting to be rolled out. Others were still full and sealed. Bits and pieces of Alliance paraphernalia, flags and the like. A couple of boxes of neatly pressed uniforms, some blank sea journals, even a signaller. It was half the size of what the Tantamount had, all polished and shiny but the colours were wrong.

  “You hear that?” she asked Bandit. The loompa gave her wide eyes but no answer.

  There was almost no sound coming from the warehouse, no voices or footsteps, no sounds of business or any kind of life. Just a heavy stillness. Violet could hear her own and Bandit’s breathing.

  But from outside there was a commotion building. It was an angry hum, getting louder by the second. Like bees.

  Violet held a finger to her lips, which Bandit imitated with careful precision. Until the finger went up his nose.

  “Come on,” Violet sighed. She set out, keeping low and hunched over, looking for a gap between the upper level packing through which she could see the ground floor.

  What she saw only confirmed her suspicions. The warehouse was empty. Empty of people, at least. There were still rows and rows of Draugr, standing silently around the edge of the lower floor. Some were seated—on the ground, on crates, a few on actual benches. There was a handful of sleeping mats too, though not nearly enough for all of them. Violet tried to recall whether Draugr slept. She didn’t remember Stoker or any of those from Thatch ever doing it. But then they were different.

  Weren’t they?

  The golems were at the back, where it was darkest. Violet started to work her way towards them cautiously, staying high and out of sight from below. No sense being careless.

  At the far end of the building, opposite the barn doors, there was an overhang with a ladder. The golems were all lined up underneath, meaning she’d have to descend to inspect them any closer. And if it turned out she was right . . . that was no good thing.

  “Want to go look for me?” Violet whispered to Bandit. He gave her more wide eyes but no suggestion he had any such desire.

  “Me neither.”

  Crawling to the edge of the platform seemed the safest compromise. Flat to the floor, hands holding onto the skirting, she ducked her head over and under, peering at the golems from upside down.

  And there it was, just as she’d first seen. An obsidian golem, solid and foreboding. Nestled between two mechanical contraptions.

  Bandit’s head appear beside her, hand raised, rock in hand. He must have picked it up from outside and carried it in. Before she could stop him, Bandit threw. He hit the brass golem to the right, the clanging sound of rock on metal echoing around the warehouse. Bandit shrieked at the noise, only adding to the cacophony.

  “Hells, Bandit!” Violet grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, standing up and twisting around in alarm. Surely someone would have heard that.

  The whole warehouse did. In a silent mass shuffle, the Draugr, those not already standing, came to their feet and began to congregate towards the doors. The silence didn’t last long as the golems themselves began to join the movement. Brass cogs and gears began whirring to life, steam and smoke started to fill the building. The automatons moved with more precision than the Draugr but with less regard, pushing the labourers aside indifferently as they moved towards the doors. Doors that were barred shut. Soon the sound of straining timber could be heard over the gears. The door held for a moment, but only until two of the golems backed up and rammed it together.

  The whole building shook, including the upper level. Violet stumbled and lost her footing, tumbling towards the ground. She grabbed at the edge and managed to slow herself, swinging awkwardly from one hand before falling on the dirt amidst a crowd of Draugr streaming towards the outside. She started to curl up and cover her face to protect herself from being trampled. Then she saw the obsidian golem coming towards her. And it wasn’t moving mindlessly like all the others in the warehouse. It was reaching for her.

  She couldn’t get up, not with the crowding Draugr. Where were they all coming from? All she could do was scoot away, trying to get her feet under her. Onyx, for it had to be the same golem, reached out for her with one hand, only a few feet away now. Violet flailed, desperate for anything she could grab. She found an arm, a solid, wood-like arm. Draugr. She held on for dear life, and the Draugr dragged her along with it, barely slowing. It pulled her out of Onyx’s immediate reach so the golem quickened its pace and made to lunge at her.

  Until Bandit launched himself at the golem, shrieking all the while, landing firmly on its head. It could have been an accident, it most probably was, but as the loompa clung to the golem’s face his hands perfectly covered those red eyes. His small clawed limbs found the eye sockets perfect handholds and refused to let go. Onyx stopped coming for her, halting while Draugr pushed past, reaching up to rip off the annoying creature. Only the design of its arms seemed to limit their range of motion. Onyx couldn’t quite reach Bandit, not with the loompa ducking and weaving atop, still covering the eyes.

  Violet used the Draugr she had latched onto to haul herself to her feet. When she let go of them it was like a spring. They barrelled into several other bodies, taking them all down in a heap. Violet jumped over them, hoping they’d slow Onyx. Hoping they wouldn’t get hurt in the slowing of it down.

  “Bandit, let’s go!” she yelled over her shoulder. For once the loompa was in full agreement, vaulting from the head of the golem to safety. Only he didn’t make it to safety. Violet’s heart lurched, her feet skidding to a stop. Bandit had slipped, his feet sliding off the smooth purchase on the golem’s head. He didn’t make the distance before the golem’s hand snapped out and plucked him from the air.

  “No!” Violet ran at the golem, throwing herself onto its arm. She gasped as the swinging arm knocked the breath from her lungs. The impact stunned her. Wherever she had touched the black-rock golem her skin felt numb, thousands of tiny prickling needles stabbing into her. Like touching Quill or Gabbi when they used their power, only ten times worse. There was no give, no sag in the arm even once she latched. Onyx was able to swing both her and Bandit around as if they weighed nothing. But the golem tried to let go of Bandit to grab onto her, with the same hand. The second she saw Onyx’s fingers uncurl, Violet let go too—she couldn’t have held on anyway—but she grabbed for the loompa instead, snaring him in the crook of her elbow. The golem’s motion sent them flying straight at the wall; Violet curled up around Bandit and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Everything hurt. Violet opened her eyes, not realising they’d been shut. Everything was grey, kind of hazy. No focus and no colour. Bandit struggled in her arms, kicking and scratching to get free. She relaxed her grip but he drew blood before she sat up. The pain made her gasp, blinking
rapidly. Bright and vivid red against her skin. Not just the one cut, half a dozen, shards of broken glass covered them both.

  Glass?

  She was outside. The golem had thrown her right through the window; glass, panes, and timber. Violet was lying in what remained. No wonder she hurt all over. Through the shattered window she could see Onyx, pressed up against the wall, staring at her. There were no tiny hands to cover those eyes now. Violet tried to stand, unable to look away from those blood red eyes. She had the sensation of falling, cold, then her legs gave out under her and she dropped back to earth, eyes to the dirt.

  When she looked back up, there were people all around, yelling and screaming, waving torches and makeshift weapons. There was smoke. The warehouse was on fire. And barely a second look for a beaten Kitsune girl.

  Violet staggered to her feet, one step falling into the next. Pushing her way into the crowd, letting the masses swallow her up.

  CROWDS WERE BAD. It was a rule that Nel held hard and fast to. The proverb was between the devil and the deep, and personally, Nel would rather be caulking the devil seam than find herself with a crowd between her and the Tantamount. To say nothing of the riot still raging behind her and Gabbi. The brawl had spread from the tavern almost as fast as they could put distance between them. Felt like half the city was involved now so maybe it hadn’t started at the tavern. And there were fires. Fires were very bad. One more reason to start laying sail. It had all gone to the black and if Nel got her way so would the Tantamount. Metaphors aside, the city was one big tinderbox.

  “Gods . . . blast it . . . and damnation . . . woman,” Gabbi wheezed next to her, leaning one arm against a shack wall. Her face was red and her cheeks were pillowing out, gasping for air. “Slow down. I don’t have your thrice-damned unnatural stalk-legs! Gods!”

  “Sorry, Gabbi,” Nel apologised, not really paying her much mind. She checked behind but it seemed they were safe from the ongoing turmoil further inland.

 

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