“From what you’ve told me, the humans on this continent aren’t to be trusted. Beware their cunning.”
“Once bitten, as the saying goes.” Crystal was resolved to make no friends or allies on her journey, promising herself to avoid even the superficial friendship of strangers at taverns whilst drinking and feasting. She planned to be a stranger to all. A nameless face in the crowd, nothing more. Crystal rubbed the soft fur on Skye’s forehead.
“The island to the west, I will wait for you there until you perform the summoning,” said Skye. It was an island of rivers with plentiful salmon and game to feast upon. A thriving utopia. Skye’s only complaint, the lack of companionship.
“It will take several weeks for me to travel to Engalia.” Again, she rubbed the fur of his brow. “Killing the king, that won’t take long.” Crystal realised she has missed, and will continue to miss Skye’s company. She had a sudden and fleeting yearning for simpler days.
“I wish you a successful hunt.” Skye rubbed his cheek against Crystal’s chest. She embraced him. Skye stepped away.
“Don’t go getting fat from gorging yourself on all the salmon on the island,” said Crystal.
“I can’t guarantee that,” Skye stretched his wings, preparing for flight. “See you in a few weeks.”
“Have a safe trip, Skye.”
The crow’s nest bell rang. The helmsman saw the lookout pointing to the cliffs. The beast had taken to the air once more. “Look, Cap’n! The beast is flying back out to sea!”
“We’ve got that son of a bitch now!” Denari grinned, he’d claim his prize after all. “Set a course to intercept! All speed you whoring sea dogs!” Another beast, another head. Another notch on the Headhunter’s mast.
Standing on the edge of the cliff, Crystal watched as the ship coursed across the reef in its attempt to head-off Skye. “What are these fools playing at?”
Wind filled the Headhunter’s sails. Oars churned the water. Captain Denari peered through his telescope, mouth ajar, the air tasted of salt and victory. There came a great upheaval of water. The ship rose and fell, almost capsizing. A colossal O’shaku surfaced, emerging from the depths. A damaging wave assaulted the Headhunter. Several crewmen were washed overboard, their bodies were quickly swept underwater by strong currents as the sea surged.
This was not the first O’shaku to besiege the Headhunter, nor did Denari believe it would be the last. Such a grand trophy its skull will make, decorating the halls of his manor. The seven ballistas on deck would make the monster regret ever been squirted out by its mother. Seven iron spears laced with shorku venom. It was land versus sea. As Captain Denari was about to shout the order to fire, he remembered the iron spears had been replaced with nets, all seven of them. He cursed.
Pounding on the ships deck with its gigantic fists, the O’shaku reaped utter ruin upon the vessel. Splitting apart, the mast fell into the sea, crushing men unlucky enough to be caught in its path. Water streamed into the broken hull. Clutching onto a deck rope so as not to be cast overboard, Denari watched on helplessly as the Headhunter descended below the waves. Drawn by the commotion and blood, sharks devoured the flesh of sailors attempting to swim to safety.
Scrambling across broken planks, the Captain attempted to reach a floating barrel. Violently, the O’shaku struck the battered ship once more. Denari fell below deck, his clothing ensnared by wooden shards. Tangled, he could not free himself to escape the rising water. Desperately, he thrashed and fought. The sea invaded his lungs. Denari’s body was dragged down and laid to rest on the seabed within the ruins of his once mighty Headhunter. What greater end could a Sea Captain ask, but to go down with his vessel.
With the ship destroyed, the O’shaku returned to the ocean depths, having fulfilled the goddess’s command.
A guilty pleasure. The death of the humans and the destruction of their ship made Crystal happy. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. Those men were definitely following Skye, not that they would have caught him. The O’shaku had been a marvel to behold. Such a commanding presence and so powerful. The monsters of the sea were no trifling matter, a force to be feared and respected.
Unsheathing Herakas, Crystal sighed and starred at the crashing waves below. There was a time when she desired no other weapon. A time before defeat. In the coming battles, Crystal knew Herakas would not grant her victory. It was time to return the sword to its home. With a mighty throw, she cast the sword over the cliff, sunlight reflecting off the blade as it fell, hit the water and sank into the reef. Turning her back on her past, Crystal walked away from the cliff, Belos’ka in hand, resolved to forge a new destiny for herself.
Curious fish circled the blade as it rested amongst coral, inspecting the latest addition to their environment. They darted away as Jobee reached for the sword. It was the first time the Sea Goddess had witnessed a mortal toss a sword over the cliff; it intrigued her.
Jobee waved the sword through the water. Reef steel, it was fine blade. Well forged. It seemed a waste to forsake such a fine sword to rust, abandoned on the seabed. “I know someone who likes swords,” she smiled.
Running her hand along blade, Herakas transformed into a writhing, red sea snake. “Off you go, little one,” she said, releasing the serpent.
Twirling, the enchanted creature spiralled around the goddess, then swam away into the shallow waters of the shoreline.
Sculpted hedges and landscaped gardens decorated the outskirts of Kembleton, a grand city defended by an impenetrable wall of fortified stone. Bordered with magnificent trees, the road leading to the city’s drawbridge was bustling with merchants and peasants. Mounted on fine steeds, armoured guards patrolled the road while sentinels manned guard towers, scanning the outlying lands for both bandits and shorkus. Monster attacks, being common in the south, meant travellers were ever wary, for death was a constant, lingering threat.
Duke Eckelhardt, ruler of Kembleton, harboured no patience for lawlessness within the city his ancestors had spent generations building. Kembleton boasted a reputation of being the safest and most prosperous city in Engalia and as such, the city’s guards were strict and oft, heavy handed.
Crossing a wooden drawbridge which spanned across a wide, waterless moat, Crystal stopped to peer over the edge. The moat was deep, littered with long wooden spikes. Skeletal corpses hung impaled on several of the spikes, remnants of sieges long past. Another corpse was there, monstrous in both size and appearance. The moat was a formidable defence which neither armies or shorku had yet breached.
Lighting his pipe, Kaleb gazed with irritation at the crowd of peasants passing through the gatehouse. Another tedious day of watch duty. After having lost a large sum of sovereigns playing darts the previous night, Kaleb was itching to return to the tavern and try to win his coins back, and then some. At least for now, the smoke filling his lungs calmed him.
Rodney nudged his companion, gesturing towards the cloaked woman standing on the drawbridge. Her face concealed. She clutched onto a peculiar package, wrapped in cloth. “There’s a suspicious looking one,” Rodney said, pushing himself from the wall he was leaning against.
A worn travelling cloak. Dirt stained boots. Kaleb scoffed. The woman wasn’t much to look at. He drew from his pipe as he starred at her. “You think so, Rodo’s? Looks like some dirt-poor rancher to me. Still…” Gently tapping the pipe against the wall, the ashes came loose, falling to the floor. “I guess it’ll kill a bit of time.”
“Hey! You there!” Rodney approached her, spear erect in-hand. “What business do you have in Kembleton?”
With a side glance, Crystal scowled. Her armour was hidden beneath her cloak. Belos’ka wrapped, not to arouse suspicion. Her attempts to go unnoticed had failed. Damn curious humans. She spoke softly, her face downturned. “Just passing through. Need to buy some supplies.”
“Supplies? For what? You going on a journey somewhere?” Rodney stood over her, legs parted, feet firmly planted.
“Yes. I’m heading nor
th.”
“Travelling north, are we? Alone, in these parts? With no horse? Not the smartest thing to be doing, is it?”
Crystal shrugged. “Not much choice, I’m afraid.”
“What are you carrying there, all wrapped up?” Rodney pointed to Belos’ka.
A bothersome line of inquiry. It was apparent these guards were not going to leave Crystal alone until they had finished probing her for answers. There was an easy way to overcome this situation. Crystal drew back the hood of her cloak, revealing her face. Kaleb’s eyes grew large. The woman was stunning.
“Gentlemen,” said Crystal. Resting Belos’ka against her leg, she removed her coin pouch from her belt. In doing so, Kaleb caught a glimpse of her armour. “While I respect your diligence to your job, I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” She held up two gold coins. “Perhaps these will satisfy your curiosity, so that I might continue on my way?”
“Aye,” nodded Rodney. Stepping forward, he took the coins. “These will do fine.”
Judging by the purses bulge, there were plenty more coins inside. Kaleb sought to reap greater spoils from this encounter. “Hold up, Rodney. This woman’s bribing us, that’s a serious crime in Kembleton.”
Rodney knew his companion well and with a sly smile said, “You’re right, Kaleb. It is indeed, a serious crime.”
The gleam in his eye was all too obvious, greed. Crystal’s plans to exploit the human desire had only fuelled its strength. The pair were fools for thinking they could extort more from her.
“Still, let’s not be hasty. The punishment for bribery is public flogging. Nasty business, that. Being stripped naked in the Town Square and flogged until your back is transformed into a streaming river of blood.” Kaleb’s grin was cruel. “You don’t want that, do you Miss?”
“Cut to the chase.” Crystal’s voice was stern. “What do you want?”
Interesting, the threat hadn’t made the woman flinch. Kaleb found her to be intriguing. “Well, if you come into the guard room with us, I’m sure we can work something out.” With such a pretty face, Kaleb was keen to not only take all her gold, but to explore the fine body concealed beneath her cloak.
Smiling, Crystal placed her hand on Kaleb’s shoulder. “Ah, so that’s what you’re after. You should have just said so earlier. I’ll be happy to oblige, though a guard room isn’t a very fun place to play,” her eyes were seductive. “I have something better in mind.”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.” Gold and sex, it was his lucky day.
Gripping his armour firmly, Crystal spun, tossing Kaleb head first into the moat. Gobsmacked, Rodney stood stiff as an old board with eyes of disbelief. Screams echoed as Kaleb fell, his voice silenced as his body shredded on the spikes below.
Peasants crossing the bridge stopped. Gasping, confused. They looked at each other with troubled glances. They feared violence and here it was, playing out before their eyes.
Tearing the cloth from Belos’ka, Crystal advanced with fluid motion. Rodney stumbled as the hammer came down, his life ending with a harsh blow from the blunt weapon.
Panic ensued. Peasants fled. Tower bells rang. Stone staircases echoed with the sound of clinking armour and heavy footfalls.
‘What was I thinking! I should have killed them in the guard room!’ Hindsight as always, was a bitch.
The bridge made for a narrow battle ground with death on either side. The odds were in her favour. Wielding Belos’ka, Crystal stood unwavering in her full glory as the gatehouse soldiers, answering the call to battle, streamed onto the drawbridge and charged towards her.
Tacticians say that underestimating your enemy ends in regretful defeat. The guardsmen came to know this pitiable fate all too well. What was Crystal to them but a lone woman, foolishly bringing death upon herself by antagonising them into battle. She was nothing. So, they treated her as such and rushed forwards, weapons held aloft, roaring in a triumph they had not yet obtained.
Surrounded by his personal guard, Sargent Irons strode onto the drawbridge expecting to find the defeated criminal in the custody of his men. Instead, he found his standing force slaughtered. Their armour crushed. Standing over their corpses was the blonde woman. Her hammer painted red.
Call for reinforcements? No. Additional guards would not suffice for this fight. Irons required a higher calibre of warrior. This was a battle for knights. Irons sent a squadron of Kembleton’s finest into the fray.
Stationed on the battlements, archers hollered insults at Crystal and cheered the knights on with words of encouragement as they marched upon their foe. With their heavy armour, tempered swords and mighty shields, they moved as a fearsome wall of steel.
As the veteran force closed in on her, the mounted soldiers who had been patrolling the road amassed behind her. They formed a tight and orderly line, preventing Crystal’s escape.
The bridge was too narrow for mounted soldiers to fight. The risk of a horse stumbling to its death was high. Knowing this, Crystal was unconcerned by their arrival. Let them hold the road and watch their comrades die. In true Terrifos fashion, Crystal rushed the knights.
Swiftness was the critical factor in securing victory. Superior Movement. Foresight. Terrifying strength. These attributes coupled with a weapon which reaped utter devastation allowed Crystal to completely dominate the knights. Irons shook with rage as each warrior fell. Casualties mounted. Urgency gnawed at the Sargent. This battle needed to end. He called for a volley.
Arrows rained upon the drawbridge. Crystal sought refuge behind a fallen knight’s shield. The barrage of arrows turned the tide against her. Time to leave.
Breaking through the line of mounted soldiers was an easy task for Crystal. Not choosing the road, she fled across the gardens. Leaping and weaving over paths and between gorgeous trees, horsemen in pursuit.
“An appalling situation. Though, this is what I’ve come to expect from you, Sargent Irons.” Commander Stafford surveyed the bridge. Mangled corpses. Broken arrows. The knights stood in disarray. Horses raced through the gardens, trampling the plants. Duke Eckelhardt prized the gardens surrounding his city. The riders, having forgotten themselves in the chaos, will be harshly chastised for their actions upon their return. “How could you let one woman defeat our forces so badly?”
Arrogantly, Irons turned his back to the Commander. “The woman was a monster. Our losses couldn’t be helped.”
“A monster, was she?” Stafford stepped beside his subordinate. “And what did this monster want?”
“How am I supposed to know that, Stafford-”
“Commander Stafford,” he interjected.
Their eyes met.
“She said nothing.” Once again, Irons turned away. Refusing to formally acknowledge the Commanders rank. “We have no idea why she attacked the gate.”
‘You’re an impudent little man, aren’t you, Irons’ Stafford thought to himself. “Are you able to give me any information about her, Sargent? Where she came from? How the fight started? Anything at all?”
“Nothing.”
“Ofrem, bring me the witness,” said the Commander.
“At once, My Lord.” The soldier bowed before obeying the command.
A witness? What good would a witness do? The knights were witnesses. The archers in the battlements were witnesses. Iron’s wondered what Stafford was playing at. Highborn prat.
“Here he is, My Lord,” announced Ofrem as he presented the peasant before them.
“Uh, My Lords,” the man nodded nervously as he stood before the commander and Sargent.
“My men tell me you saw the woman on the bridge before the battle started. Is that true?” The Commander spoke kindly to him.
“I did Ser, My Lord.”
“Tell us, what did you see?”
“Well, I saw the woman, see. She was looking over the edge of the drawbridge into the moat. Her faced was all cloaked like, as if she didn’t want no-one to know who she was.” His hands moved expressively as he spoke. “T
he guards approached her. Must have thought she looked suspicious. I did. Being all cloaked as she was. What’s she hiding? That’s I thought. They asked her what she had come to town for. Supplies she said. Made mention that she was heading north, too. Then they asked her about the package she was carrying. All wrapped up in cloth it was. Don’t know what her answer was. I was walking past, see. So that’s all I heard.”
“Did you see the fight start?” Asked the commander.
“No, My Lord,” the peasant shook his head. “I was well past by that time. All I heard was the people start screaming and everything got crazy, then the alarm bells started ringing. I followed the crowd inside and didn’t see nothing after that.”
“Thank you, Mister…” Stafford raised his brow at the man.
“Welhapp. Colin Welhapp, My Lord.”
“Thank you, Mister Welhapp. Your information has been very helpful. Ofrem, see to it that our friend is rewarded with some silver.”
“Yes, My Lord. If you would come with me please, sir.”
Silver! Colin smiled. “Thank you, Commander. Thank you very much!” Tucking his hands in his pockets, a merry-faced Colin followed behind Ofrem.
“Well-well. It appears the gatehouse wasn’t attacked as you had proclaimed. This was merely an unfortunate altercation between your guards and a vastly superior warrior.”
“The-”
“Don’t bother offering excuses, Sargent. The reputation of your guards is well known throughout the city. Though this time, I fear you may suffer some repercussions for your men’s actions.” The sound of horses made Stafford look to the road. Eleven horses were returning yet only three bore riders. “It looks like our culprit has escaped.”
“I’ll send a party out after her.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” The commander’s response was blunt. “Enough of our men have died because of your poor judgement. I refuse to lose more men just so that you can try to recover your wounded pride. You underestimated her strength, Sargent. The defeat is yours to bear.”
Misanthropy (Born of the Phoenix Book 2) Page 15