by Tim Paulson
“Sorry, sir!” Cemu replied, putting his hands to his mouth to shout over the sound of the wind in the sails. “The flag has stuck.”
Thira looked up. The flags were mounted on a set of pulleys. It was necessary to lower the current flag to raise another but because of the wind the current flag, the flat purple of the Purple Republic, had caught and threaded itself around and through a part of the rigging on the way down. The crew was trying to work it free by raising and then lowering it, but Thira could see it wasn't working. The flag had wrapped itself too tightly.
A low thumping sound from the distance was followed by a splash at the ship's bow. Smoke rose from the left harbor fort.
“This is not good,” Rosa said, using her palm to shield the sun as she looked up at the flag caught forty feet above.
Wilhelm looked to Thira. “Can you climb that?”
“By God Cemu! Free the damned flag!” Robert yelled. “We're at a quarter sail and we're too heavy to stop or turn in time!”
She looked at it. It was hardwood, beaten smooth in many places, it would be difficult for her claws to get good purchase. Still, if she pulled hard enough...
“I believe so,” she replied.
“Then go.”
Cemu already had two men a third of the way up, but they were moving so slowly. They'd never reach it in time. Thira ran for the mast and bounded up, grabbing hold with the claws on her hands and feet. She slipped ten inches down as her claws dragged along the hard beaten surface of the hardwood, but she squeezed her hands and feet as hard as she could, and they held.
Then she began the ascent. Crew whistled from below as she went, cheering her on. It took only moments for her to make it fifteen feet to the ring of rigging that marked the first spar, which was the trickiest part of the whole process. She was forced to pick her way around lest her claws slash something important. It delayed her for only ten seconds or so, then she was above it and bounding toward the second spar which she passed with little incident. Nearly at the top now, her predator's focus perfectly tuned to the twisted flag.
Then disaster.
A gull flew by, riding the wind, staring at her with its empty black eyes, drawing her attention. What happened wasn't its fault, not really. All it cared to discover was whether she had even one tiny tidbit of food on her person. She did not. However, then, most unfortunately, her eyes drifted farther afield and she saw the vast water around the ship and how high she was above it. Thira's stomach then sunk like an anchor had been dropped into the middle of it. Her arms and legs froze and her claws dug into the mast.
“What are you stopping for!” Robert screamed at her. Others were yelling as well.
There was a second low thump. This one came from the right fort and Thira's eyes followed the incoming cannonball as it arced in to splash to the left of the ship's bow.
“That's them being nice! Somebody free the bloody flag!” Robert yelled from the ship's wheel.
Thira could hear the two crewmen climbing the rigging. They weren't even halfway up. They'd never make it in time.
She sighed, closing her eyes. It was just instinct, that was all. The basal fear of her body at work, not her mind, not her. She would do this. She would force her claws to release.
It took a couple of seconds, but by focusing all her attention on her left hand, she managed to get it to release. Keeping her eyes closed, she moved it upward. Two inches, four inches, a foot. Then she let it clamp down again, digging into the wood.
See, it's fine. I'm fine.
Thira was about to release her right hand when that same gull, less than two feet from her, let out an obnoxiously loud call, causing her to flinch like she'd been smacked with an oar.
She waited two seconds as her ears tracked the obnoxious animal, before releasing her right hand and batting the gull from the air. She even opened her eyes two watch with satisfaction as the creature plummeted, slapping into the dark water of Valendam's harbor.
Her tension suitably exorcised, Thira continued up the last four feet to the flag, pulling it free from the rigging. The sound of squeaking pulley wheels filled her ears as the purple flag disappeared down below, only to return less than twenty seconds later, this time with a spotted friend.
There was cheering from below, which was satisfying until she looked down and realized she had no idea how to get back to the deck.
* * *
Mia stared down at the woman before her, emotions swirling inside her. Tears filled her eyes and her hands shook uncontrollably as she cradled the head in her lap.
Who was this girl? Veronica, something said.
Why do I care about her? You just do.
You love her. She was your friend.
How do I know that? I don't remember her.
Yes, you do.
You remember.
And she did. With a swell of love and anguish, pride and regret, Mia remembered it all. Her childhood in Miran. Her mother, a prostitute, killed by a client over a few coins. Her father, absent, one of her mother's customers, long forgotten. Life on the street, fighting to survive. Learning to fight, using that knowledge to defend other children from the monsters that stalked them.
Then Veronica.
Mia had tried to steal from her but found her wrist entrapped by a firm grip and a warm smile. Veronica fed her, clothed her, cured her ills. She introduced her to Benario Di Miran, master swordsman, a man with no heirs, who'd fallen from the favor of those who ran the city because he told the truth. He gave Mia a place to live, to sleep, and trained her. She learned fast and well, and despite her small size soon made a name for herself as a duelist.
When was this? Fifteen seventy-six? Yes, or near to.
All because of Veronica.
But she'd died!
Yes. You couldn't save her.
Again I've failed her, Mia thought, holding the girl's head in her lap.
“You... are... important...” Veronica said, punctuating her sentence with a cough of blood that stained her shirt.
Mia stroked her face. This wasn't Veronica... this was someone else. Servant of Kiag, the dragon. Adem!
“There's your answer then. Let's go. Come, Mia,” Christine said.
Mia looked up, her body trembling with rage.
“I'm not going anywhere with you,” she said.
Christine rubbed her hand against her face. “No! You're coming. Do you have any idea how much time and effort I've put into you?”
It was all flooding back. All of it. Fifteen ninety-one, a riot in Pallus. Caused by Christine... then she'd been Madame Bernice Cordonnier, Duchess of Dironde. Mia had been forced to kill fourteen angry civilians who'd stormed the manor in search of the duchess. They'd been driven from their homes in the name of progress and had only wanted to be heard. Mia killed them, because she was ordered to but not before one set fire to the manor, so they'd moved on.
“Are you listening to me girl?” Christine asked.
Girl? Girl? I've been alive for more than fifty years, yet I look like a young woman. Will I ever age? You did this to me.
“Stop it moth- Stop it! Can't you see she's upset?” Giselle shouted.
Mia laid Veronica's head down, slowly raising herself to stand.
“Harald... make her listen,” Christine said.
Sixteen oh five. Mia was sent to check on Marcus, to see how he was getting along as baron of Aeyrdfeld. Two children. Giselle and Liam. The mother, the fifth daughter of a minor knightdom in southern Arden.
Her name was Marian.
Not good enough for Marcus. That's what Christine had said.
Not Christine then, Freda Gerada of Calacia.
“I can't... “ Harald replied, his mouth hanging open in awe. “Can't you feel the power? She's radiating it... Didn't Vex ever tell you this would happen?”
“No,” she replied. “He said I shouldn't do it. He never told me why. I thought it was good she stopped aging, saved me the trouble of replacing her.”
Harald laugh
ed. “He knew what would happen.”
Christine's expression turned to pure disgust. “Fine... I've recovered what I need from this place. I don't need any of you. Harald, let's go.”
“Stop!” Mia shouted. “Don't you dare leave us here, defenseless in this crumbling castle under attack from enemies you probably created.”
Christine sneered at her. “I had nothing to do with this idiotic republic. I've never heard of something so stupid in all my life. Don't you blame that on me.”
Harald was waving his arms. Mia saw the symbols, the swirls and runes, and circles that he carved into the air. The teleportation spell. He looked sad.
Mia approached them, pulling her rapier from its scabbard. Immediately the glowing veil blade ignited in blue flame.
“Harald, now,” Christine said, her eyes widening.
There was a flash, and they were gone.
Giselle ran to her. “Mia! What's happened to you?” she said as her eyes cast down. “Your sword... It's on fire.”
The blue flames winked out and Mia sheathed the blade.
“I'm aware,” she said.
“Veronica!” Giselle said, running over to the girl.
Something was changing about Veronica. Her clothes didn't look as solid as they had before, though it made little sense to Mia's eyes. It was as if they were melting away, being replaced by... fur?
Veronica wasn't human at all, but some kind of dierlijt Mia had never seen before. It had a long thin muzzle like a fox, but unlike the foxes of the northern regions, its ears were huge. The fur was gray and light tan with streaks of black and a thick fluffy tail lay on the floor.
“What is she?” Mia asked, kneeling down next to the creature. “Is this a new kind of dierlijt?”
“I... don't know,” Giselle replied. “There are no stories about things like this.”
“We know them, we call them mashku,” said a voice from behind them. Mia had heard the weaselman approach earlier. He was quiet, but not silent. “In old tongue it means hidden ones,” he added.
“Piotr!” Giselle exclaimed. “Where did you go? You were there and then... Veronica and I were facing my moth-... that woman... alone!”
The weaselman shrugged, “Am sorry. I was there and saw them coming and I thought of an old saying from my people. 'With only knives cannot fight demons... but you can still steal.'”
“You stole from moth-... from her?” Giselle said, her eyes wide.
Mia leaned down over the dying creature. Was this the person who'd helped her? Who'd taken care of Adem?
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
A clawed hand reached for Mia's shirt, grasping.
“Take... pin... from belt,” the creature said. “Find... Commander Bartold, Imperial Cavalry.”
Mia nodded. The name... it seemed oddly familiar. “I will... Please... do you know where Adem is?”
The fox-like creature's eyes began to flutter. “Bartold...” Then, with a bubbling wheeze, she died.
Mia smashed a hand to the floor, cracking the stone.
“A fanabla!” she shouted.
Giselle and Piotr stared at her.
“Girl is... strong,” Piotr said.
“Seems so,” Giselle replied.
The smell of smoke was getting worse. Fires around the castle were spreading. They had to get out and soon.
“Wow!” Giselle exclaimed. She was staring out at the garden, which looked like it had already been reduced to ash long before, yet now a new fire was growing in the ruined garden. “How did that happen? It was just fine.”
Mia remembered the instructions, what she'd done. “It's Christine's little hidden laboratory, she keeps it concealed with an illusion. Once she was sure everything she wanted had been recovered, she had me set another fire inside it.”
“Another fire?” Giselle asked. “What have you been doing to my home?”
“What I was told,” Mia replied as she felt along Veronica's fur. There was a belt, just as she'd said and pinned to it, was a single golden circle, shaped like a dragon. This too felt familiar. Was this the symbol of those who served Kiag?
There was another series of loud thumps as cannons fired in the distance to the south. Only seconds later impacts rocked the castle around them.
“Enemy is destroy this place,” Piotr said, nodding his head. “We should consider leaving.”
Mia stood up. “I agree.”
“But where do we go?” Giselle asked. Mia saw the fear in the girl's eyes, as well as something else, a feeling she knew well, the hollow empty hole that came with the betrayal of those she trusted most. Giselle's whole life had been a lie, carefully constructed by the woman posing as her mother. It was obvious that she hadn't even begun to bring that knowledge into herself. She was in crisis mode.
“We get out of here first, then we decide,” Mia replied. “Take my hand, Giselle. We'll go to the north gate.”
Piotr nodded. “Good choice. Is small, but enemy is south.”
To get there, they had to pass through the upper goliath stables, which were empty. Not a single goliath or weapon remained. However, the chips in the stone at Marian's former stable remained. It seemed only yesterday that Mia had convinced the goliath to help her but it had been months ago. She'd lost so much time, serving that woman. The worst part, she realized, as she held Giselle's quivering hand, was that she'd agreed to it.
The sounds of fire and crumbling stone were getting worse. Upper floors must be collapsing. Giselle's breathing was becoming faster and more erratic.
“Will we make out?” Giselle asked. Her cheeks were flushed, but her complexion was pale.
“Is fine,” Piotr told her.
A flaming timber fell from above, crashing only feet away and showering the three of them with burning sparks.
Mia felt Giselle's hand pull. She knew what was happening and ducked low, catching the girl before her head hit the stone. Mia hefted Giselle into her arms and carried her limp form.
“Are you sure you don't want me to do that?” Piotr asked, his eyes wide.
“I'm not a normal girl anymore,” Mia said.
“I am noticing,” he replied.
“Just get the gate for me,” she said as she carried Giselle across the small north gate courtyard to the gate itself. This was not a sallie gate for cavalry or goliaths. It was meant only for woodsmen heading north to cut trees from the slopes of the Aeyrd mountains. That was why, rather than a large pair of heavy doors, it was just a human-sized steel door with a short drawbridge on the far side.
Piotr ran ahead and pulled the door open but as soon as he did, Mia saw the problem.
The bridge was up. There would be no time to find the winch and release it.
“I hope you're ready for a swim!” she said.
“I hate water,” Piotr replied and jumped.
Mia looked at Giselle, her eyes closed. At least now that she'd fainted her breathing was more relaxed but not for long.
Using all her strength Mia jumped as far toward the other side of the moat as she could. Giselle's long eyelashes fluttered as the two of them vaulted through the air in a shallow arc until they reached the zenith and began to plummet. The girl's eyes went wide and her arms flailed, smacking Mia in the face, twice, before they splashed, feet first, into the frigid water of Aeyrdfeld's moat.
Chapter 12
"I swear it... she talks to me sometimes... but in my dreams. And her voice is familiar!"
-Goliath knight Tomasz Adamczyk, drunk, discussing his goliath Zyta, 1604
The sea breeze blew strands of her hair across Celia's face, partially obscuring the vista that surrounded her as she climbed the ladder to the top of the tall boxy wooden structure. This building was not directly next to the one the white carriages had entered, rather it was situated diagonally across a small side street. Vex had asked her to climb to the roof and she'd done so, now she was wondering what he expected her to do next.
“I'm here,” she said. “I can see the buil
ding.”
She could also see something else. The building had been placed right next to a diverted section of the canal. Two huge water wheels turned because of the flowing water.
“Is the roof flat? Can you take me out so I can see?” Vex said.
Celia fished the stuffed toy that housed Vex's green stone from her shirt. “So you're going to transport us to the other roof using magic?”
“I can't just move us. I've been ordered not to, first of all, Christine made that clear when she saw me last. However, I'm also starting to run out of magic.”
“How do you know?” Celia asked.
Vex craned his short neck toward the far building. “A feeling. After a while like this, you start to know what you can and can't do. Hmmm...”
“What?” she asked.
“Two large mechanical water wheels. None of the other buildings have anything like that.”
“I saw. Why?”
“Good question,” Vex replied. “There's only one way to find out. Pick me up and go over there, to the corner closest to the other building.”
Celia did so. “What are you planning to do?”
“Well... I can't move us, but I can do something for you. The distance looks right. Let me ask you again... you're not afraid of heights?”
Celia chuckled, thinking back to many times in the past when she'd scaled things she probably shouldn't have. Rooftops in Hidal, the cliffs of Strapiombo, the great oaks of Grauerwald. It was amazing how often people forgot to look up.
“No,” she replied. “Not one bit.”
Vex nodded. “So be it. Then we're going to try something different but before we do, we need to have a little imagination time.”
Celia grinned at him, wondering what he might look like as a man, what he might... feel like.
“The kind where I tell you what you need to think,” Vex said.
Celia sighed, letting the thoughts go. “Fine, what is it?”
“Close your eyes. I want you to imagine that there is a great hand that pulls you down always, holding you to the ground.”
“Like the hand of God,” Celia said.
“Whatever you like, I don't care. It's big, it's invisible, and it makes sure you don't fly off into the sky.”