Bliss

by Daniel Lawley

  “Hold steady” he ordered. “To arms!” They were being boarded.

  ~The Stolen Airship~

  ~ Sixth of the Crop, Song of Sorrow~

  The fight to thrive

  The fight to burn

  The fight to reshape the world

  Armatrine stood at the fore of the ship as they were boarded, a maiden awaiting the end. The whole plan had been suicide, yet what choice had they been granted? They had stood together upon the gallows and found their courage together. A collective voice to the unknown, to the void, that they would not be taken today. That they would reject this for now to ride supreme among the tumultuous sky once more. What was death anyway, to those who had already departed?

  He arrived on the deck, a surprise to all. He'd been close in pursuit and they had not known. The admiral, she sensed his presence, something dark hidden just below the surface of who he allowed people who see, what they perceived him as. She wondered if Arlandus saw it too, how much power this pitiful creature had amassed in such a short span.

  She turned to stare at the old man, his glowing body still deep in prayer, wherever he was or whatever he was doing he was not in this moment. At the admiral’s appearance the men held back, waiting for the word of Captain Orochi, quite taken aback by the sudden appearance of their familiar adversary. She did not need to wait to be told, there was only one option, there had only ever been one option. The past mattered not, pirate or priest, crown prince or beggar, or some other unholy monster forced upon the world. They had been manipulated, all of them, by this creature before them. Even now as the world burned and screamed and churned below them, to the last he was deceptive of what or who he was, yelling his orders to the men he'd manipulated, to die for him, to bleed in the face of a vision only he could see.

  She screamed as she sprang forth off her heel, drawing the broad sword she had picked up during the escape. She had hated the feel of its weight in her hand, it had been alien and different from her order weapon, yet now it felt like a comfort as she leaped into battle. The cold steel blade weighted toward her enemies, as she landed she cut into a man, his blood spilling upon the floor, rich and crimson as he fell to his wound. Then it erupted, a geyser of hate and misfortune, of desperation and the will to kill coupled with the will to live. Orochi’s crew pushed forth, their anger bubbling, keen to see the invaders back over the side of the vessel. The admiral and his crew drew their weapons in return and cut into some escapees. There was nowhere to turn, all around smelled of blood and burning iron. She ducked a blade and stabbed at the man responsible for it. He fell from the side of the vessel and he shouted as he perished, as did many others from both sides of the fray. A first wave of bloodshed to heat the battle in the darkness. Twilight had fallen upon them, its dark caress a burden to a world used to the light of burning twin suns. Violet had given way to black and black had given way to evil on board the deck. She swiped at a man, slitting him open from one side of his chest to the other. Blood and organs leaked from him where he'd been sliced. He fell to his knees gargling the red force of his life from his parted lips, a look of surprise plastered on his face.

  The battle raged around them. As one fell another came to meet his end upon her blade, in a way she was thankful for the opportunity to slay so many. They wouldn't risk a rifle or arquebus assault upon their own, for while they were superior in numbers, it was clear that a few misplaced shots could turn the battle quickly. They fought fiercely, she'd no time to witness the valiant effort of those at all sides. They were in a skirmish for life itself, each sought to prevail.

  A woman approached with daggers drawn, one in each hand, she'd taken the initiative of forgoing her naval training and instead had opted for the techniques preferred by those who Armatrine had heard referenced as assassins. She grinned quietly at the girl. Despite her being somewhat older she held a gaze that showed she regarded Armatrine as prey. She would feel the bite of the knife between her ribs, perhaps she would sate the rampant bloodlust in this slender juggernaut. It was likely she would not, she would only keep killing and killing until there was none left to murder. They circled one another, each regarding the other with careful measure and equal disdain. One of their lives would end upon this dusk ridden eve. She took a moment to survey the battle, encroaching upon the height of its heat. Sword clashed against sword, pistol shot into flesh, their fiery bellows dropping men with the easing of triggers. She knew, should this finish badly, no one would be able to rescue her. Steeling her nerves she committed herself. Not that she had a choice.

  The assassin came first, running toward her with coats flapping in the lingering wind of the tempest. Gleaming daggers poised to penetrate flesh with ease. Armatrine moved aside, parrying the killing blow. She felt the razor edge brush her forearm. It was not a deep blow but the pain was palpable, it radiated through the limb as she returned the blow, missing narrowly. She felt the blood trickle from the wound, warm and crimson, it steamed in the night air from the heat of her body.

  “You'll have to do better than that bloodied sister.” Taunted the assassin with a sneer.

  Armatrine stood firm, her blade raised, again the assassin came. Fury wrought on the tip of her blade as she pushed the point toward her chest, Armatrine parried it with ease before realising the trap as the second dagger almost connected with her kidney, she swept herself aside at the last moment, wearier, her guard increased, this foe was trickier than any she'd faced. She came a third time. Sensing no point in standing in the face of attack she ran toward her, blade smashed against blade with the chime of ringing steel as they blocked one another, jumping back the assassin left herself open and Armatrine was able to score a touch upon her, only small, a nick upon her wrist. Yet it was enough.

  Fury flashed in the eyes of her opponent, a resilient anger that communicated that the mark, no matter how small, had been made and that she would pay the price, she would get her revenge. Bringing her wrist to her mouth she licked the blood, appearing to delight in its thick texture and sickly iron taste. Armatrine saw her opening and charged her enemy, this time she armed herself faster and cadged the blow leaving them in close quarters, Armatrine brought her blade around in line with the girl’s neck. The girl stabbed upward. Neither connected as a shudder jerked the great vessel as the winds picked up, screaming into the sails as if the force of a thousand banshee screams pushed her forth across the beckoning, darkened, skies.

  Armatrine struggled to remain on her feet, as did the assassin. By a small measure of cruel mercy none could land a blow upon the other. All around men struggled in the same moment. She grabbed a barrel to steady herself from the struggling winds and sudden movement, the assassin was not so lucky, she fell upon her back. Powerless. Seizing her chance she jumped, blade poised to strike home, as it did, piercing the flesh of her throat, blood erupted in a geyser from her jugular, spraying the priestess garbed in cerulean and brown a distinct shade of muddy crimson which can only come from an act of murder. Her red curls slipped from beneath her cowl, luxuriating within the bloodshed.

  Around her men on both sides had followed suit, their blades bringing a violent end to the lives of sworn enemies. She swirled them around as an opportunistic foe sought the moment to finish her. She stabbed into his chest, bursting his heart beneath the ribs. He fell to the floor, his dying breath steaming in the chill of the Bliss. Armatrine looked to her master. Arlandus remained praying, the glow around him brighter now, an impenetrable beacon, no matter who tried or how, none could strike a blow. He had the protection of the Three. Would he guide them to salvation? She'd no way of knowing, all she could do was hold on to hope, all she could do was live by the faith she put in the man.

  Stabbing a man through the back she took another life, the point of her blade protruding, angled upward, exploding his heart as it tried to beat one moment longer with the blade thrust firmly inside its flesh, he fell with a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. The weather continued to deteriorate, causing the deck
to become slippery, as new blood was shed it became quickly washed away, several men slipped over the sides, the force of the storm their killer.

  Seeing an opportunity she fought her way to the side, deflecting blades where she could and dodging others, she climbed upon the ladder holding the two vessels together, her heartbeat rang in her ears with the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She pulled herself along, rung by rung, hoping she would not fall, clinging for dear life with one hand while grasping tightly with the other. There were dangers of course, being blown off or her grip loosening and her nerves betraying her to the end she so feared, she also risked an opportune sailor, seeing her plight and thinking quickly enough to unfasten the holdings keeping the ladder in place at the other end, if they did that, she would fall. Looking down she witnessed not the world she had expected, but a churning mass of debris and molten rock, crunching and burning, purging itself of all that had been. She fought to keep her eyes open as nerves took hold of her. She focused on the next rung and the next, carrying herself across the breach.

  A pistol shot rang out, loud above the fray, it echoed from the side of the mountain, lending an authority to it that it otherwise might not have possessed. The shot struck at the side of the ladder, causing it to wobble slightly, thankfully it did not break, she moved faster. Her time limited to the reload speed of the man possessing the weapon. Meters may as well have been miles. He'd missed once, he would not miss again. Reaching the other side she hurled herself over the lip of the deck, drawing her sword she cut into the side of a waiting man and then another. She wanted to vomit, she wanted to hide, fright had taken her to the most extremes of bravery and she found herself now in enemy territory, she wanted to clench her fists, curl herself into a ball and try not to think about what she had done. There would be time for regrets later, now she would need to rally herself to action. She rolled, standing she swirled her blade, slashing two men open across the chest, they fell screaming as the blood poured from their open wounds.

  By now she knew her actions had been witnessed, whoever had shot the ladder had not been the last to notice and some poured back across the connections, traversing their way tenuously across the gaping chasm to the second vessel. Shots rang out and men tried desperately to apprehend her, she had wanted to cause some relief to the fray, instead she had stoked its fury so much harder. Some fell, knocked from the ladders and ropes by the wind and the icy rain. They would be encumbered by their mortal bodies no longer. She gashed across two more men as they came, cutting the arm from one and the head from another, they fell. Yet the distance was enough that she could not stop both at once, as men piled on she could choose one or the other, heading for the helm of the ship she cut the ropes, allowing one to fall. Men had piled on swiftly from the other and began to fill the deck. They charged her, one single escape among a near army of those willing to rob her of her life. They would not manage if she could rob them of their own first. Rolling through the air she pierced one man’s neck with the point of her blade, another she stuck in the chest and another she stabbed in the back. It was dirty work, their skills nowhere near matched her own with a blade and what she lacked in numbers she made up for in skill. Resolutely she murdered. Thunder cracked the sky as the winds howled around her, caught in a cyclone the two vessels whirled around one another. The mountain roared on in anger, its explosive protest to the geological happenings taking place beneath it a marvel to behold. Then he appeared. Dark to the core yet strikingly handsome, the same rotten priest she had known her whole life. The admiral stood before her, cutlass in hand, his locks flowing with the force of the wind. Upon his face he wore a twisted scowl. As if inside him bile raged to spring forth from his lips, hatred had become him and he it, for in the dark of hatred, only twisted men such as this be found.

  “You!”

  “Yes I, young acolyte, you seem surprised, knowing that this is indeed my own vessel” he replied, his voice a purr. It provided odd juxtaposition to the man she saw before her.

  “Yet you sought to give chase to us as we made our way to safety upon this, the bliss! The most sacred of sacred nights”

  “Don't you lecture me about the sacred, girl!” He spat. “Acolytes as yourself are all to blame, nothing but your own arrogance and misguided sense of morality to guide you, you think the world should be rebuilt in your own image!”

  She'd struck a nerve. “Rich” she replied angrily gauging his reaction.

  “There isn't one thing that you could do to stop this girl! You are only a mere worm to the might of the dark mistress.” He told her. “In her glory the world will be reborn!”

  “What about the Three?” She spat back, her own blood boiling in the wake of his vile blasphemy.

  “You mean the Four, girl” he pressed his point further home as he swung his blade toward her, she parried the blow at the final moment, strength filled her aching body. “Your precious Order found the fourth so distasteful, so achingly in need of hiding that they did just that, buried her glory away from mankind forever. It is one of the reasons I left.” He allowed the shock of his revelation to wash over her, presenting him a second opportunity to strike as she found herself vulnerable to his blow. She dodged as the blade hit the deck. He kicked her, pressing the toe of his boot into her face. It sent her sprawling along the deck. She spat two teeth from the front of her mouth. She'd no way to tell if they were from the top or the bottom. Her jaw had exploded in pain, bringing tears to her eyes it blurred her vision. She spat through the blood and tongued the hole in her teeth for a moment. Rage and anger welled inside her at the thought of being thwarted by this miscreant, she wiped her tears from her eyes upon her dirty sleeve and stood.

  “You could never be such as I, or such as Arlandus!” She spat through bloodied trickles.

  The admiral laughed. “Think yourself special girl? I too once walked in the light of the Three, side by side with that old fool and side by side with you, yet when I was gone none of you noticed until it was too late, and when I had been found, you cursed me without reprieve. Without dignity but above all, without hope. In this you were a pawn to a greater scheme, for it led to my mortal demise. I perished with such hatred and such shame there was nothing but the abyss for me. Then she saved me, the mistress.”

  “Stop there,” Armatrine ordered, “by the name of divine light I command you.”

  “And in the name of darkness I am defiant!” Roared the admiral.

  “Brother Tenebris, I beseech thee” she pleaded. “There is nothing you have done which cannot be undone, you loved this world but now you set it ablaze, left to burn to naught but ash.” The wind blew her cowl from her head, releasing her locks to the elements. She looked wild as her hair blew, picked up by the storm. Her pleading eyes and bleeding, swollen face gave her the aura of a warrior, despite her religious leanings.

  “But this world did not love me, and now it must be remade in the image of the mistress!” He commanded.

  “I don't know what's happened to you, but I know it ends tonight” she asserted.

  “Very well!” He screamed as his blade pierced her left arm. She pulled away just in time to stop it severing major arteries, she wanted to scream, red hot pain flashed through her body. She pointed her own blade into him, retaliating, she was sure she’d struck home. If he felt it he seemed to ignore it and continue.

  “Why do you look so different?” She asked pointedly “Did your mistress reform you?” He fondled the bottle at his neck with his free hand. Almost protectively, as if afraid some harm may come to it.

  “She couldn't very well send me to the body which had just been torn apart by drakes now could she girl, stop stalling, your time is through, only your demise awaits.” He slashed at her again, causing her to dart backwards. She ran, jumping to the rigging, she began to climb. He followed. His strides quickly keeping pace with her own as they both ascended.

  As both ships twisted in the cyclone their velocity increased with each passing moment, those left alive fou
ght on valiantly, the clang of their clashing blades hung high in the air, an ode to the tumultuous stakes which played a hand in this moment. He tugged her ankle but she fought on, her slippery boot, sodden from the rain, slipped keenly from his grasp. Finally she found herself atop the mast. Rain lashed down from the sky. He too joined her, while he was far more athletic her slender weight gave her an advantage, balanced upon the top of the main sail. She held on to a rope dangling from the crow’s nest. He followed, slashing his cutlass wildly through the air, frantic and rabid. An animal among men, all traits of civilisation gone as he let forth the true nature of his savagery. They were pathetic attempts and she only had to take a step backward to avoid them, however, he advanced. Again he slashed, this time he was met with clanging blade, she slid backward. She was running out of room upon the slippery mast. Again he struck, she moved to the edge. Was this the reason for which she had been revived, brought back to life to be slaughtered more brutally than she could ever have imagined? He moved to strike again, yet thought better of it. Lowering his blade he grabbed her by the collar, there was no use in struggling. He brought her close to him, her face almost touching his own, his fury seethed between his clenched teeth as he addressed her.