by NAK Baldron
Slava served a sandwich and another round of vodka for everyone. They ate and drank in silence. At least the taste of the dark-rye bread was exciting and new. It made her think of older times when most people farmed. She giggled at the thought of herself wearing a corset and large dress.
She realized they were looking her way. "How much more is there?"
"Another four or five hours," Lance said. "At this speed, around thirty minutes."
"There." Slava pointed to the screen.
Lance stopped the film and backed it up.
A smoke-black insect stood in the mayor's study. It resembled a praying mantis, aside from the color. Slava jotted the time stamp and a few more notes. That was the sixth Aether Walker they'd seen. It surprised her to see the Aether Walkers could work together in such an organized manner.
"Keep a close eye on the different species," Lance warned. "Each one has their own unique personality and abilities to match, but the mayor will be their leader. He's the most dangerous of them all."
She sat quiet—waiting for the film to be over—time seemed to move in slow motion. After the insect showed up, the mayor left his house and never came back. The film stopped when the camcorder had run out of power.
"This is good," Lance said. "I think we've seen most of the major Aether Walkers working with the mayor."
"Agreed," Slava said. "I have only known a few to gather more than two underlings. The fact that he has managed to gather eight to him does not bode well for us. We will need more information to plan our attack."
"Like what?" Kandice asked.
"We need to get a better layout of the compound," Lance said.
"Yes," Slava said. "And find out what level of security system he is using. The level of his technology will be our biggest concern."
"We'll be fine," Lance said. "We've broken security systems before, and we'll do it again. I'm more concerned with taking out four or more guards without getting the police called."
"You promised the people would be unharmed," Kandice said.
"I promised we wouldn't kill them," Lance said. "But, it may come down to fighting. I'm considering tranquilizer options."
Tranquilizers didn't reassure her, but she chose to leave it alone. They needed to come up with a plan soon, and getting hung up on details at this point wouldn't help.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Texas, Earth
Tuesday, September 6th
When Kandice walked into the gym, Master Monroe was waiting for her at the front.
"Get changed," he said.
"Yes, sir."
Dressed in her proper uniform, she presented herself to Master Monroe, who handed her a protein shake. Without question, she chugged it until the entire shake was gone. Competition had taught her to breathe through her nose while drinking.
"Start running," he said.
"Yes, sir."
She set the pace and led, but Master Monroe was right on her heels the entire time. They ran for about five minutes to get their heart rate up before going into forms.
"Your blocks aren't strong enough," he said. "You have to put your entire force into it and stop on a dime."
He demonstrated the upper block to drive home the lesson.
He had her practice kicks next. When she did a front roundhouse, he pointed out a small flaw with her not rotating her hip through the kick. He made her do two hundred kicks to the chest, put her foot down, and then kick to the head, on each leg. Her legs were lead bricks by the time the workout was over.
"Want to spar?" he mocked.
"No, sir." She bowed in reverence. "I need to sit down and stretch for a minute."
"Your form has improved."
"Thank you, sir."
They sat down across from each other, and he pulled her arms forward to help her stretch deeper than she was capable of on her own.
"How are things going with school?" he asked. "You've not been coming in as often."
"I'll be able to come in more."
"Good. What changed?"
"I unenrolled yesterday."
He let go of her arms and waited for her to sit up. "That's not good," he said. "You've been working to get into a good college ever since you started here. Why did you quit?"
"Life is hectic right now."
There was no way to lie to him. He knew her too well. Unenrolling had been such a relief—she hadn't given any consideration to a cover story to tell others. It wasn't anyone's business, but she hoped direct answers with Master Monroe would end the conversation.
"Life is always hectic," he said. "That's why we stay focused on our goals and make schedules. If you need to cut down on your training, that's fine. We can push back your belt test a month or two, but school must come first."
"I'm just not interested in school right now." She stretched her back out. "Many kids take a semester off, or even a full year between high school and college. I'm burned out and need a break."
"I know things have been rough with your parents dying." He rested his hand on her ankle as comfort. "But you need to think of what they would want you to do."
"Why does everyone keep telling me that? Like I didn't know them and know what they expected of me. It's my life, and I'll do what I want."
Master Monroe stood. "Training is done for today. I want you to leave and think about it. I don't want to see you in here for the rest of the week.
"If you're not in school, then spend the time thinking about what you will do. Monday, I want you to come back and tell me your plan." He pointed to the exit. "Dismissed."
Kandice took a deep breath to maintain control of her anger.
She stood and bowed. "Yes, sir."
She didn't bother to change, just rushed to the locker room and grabbed her things. Once in the parking lot, she screamed at the top of her lungs to no one in particular.
This was the last straw for people telling her to think of her mom and dad, and what they would want. They were her parents for fuck's sake—if anyone knew what they expected, it was her. There was no way to forget their wishes. With each passing day the pain of their absence grew deeper.
She took ten deep breaths and counted them out. One, in. One, out. Two, in . . .
When her vision was clear, she put her helmet on and headed home. The wind blowing on her face felt like a volcano slapping her. There was a constant mix of sweat and tears in her eyes. The burning sensation made it difficult to concentrate on the road as she drove.
Blake was standing in the kitchen and tried to talk to her, but she raised her hand. He understood and stopped. She was in no shape to talk. She slammed her bedroom door and flopped onto her bed without kicking her shoes off.
Once she calmed down, Kandice tried to think of a good excuse for Master Monroe, but nothing came to mind. The truth was out. He needed to understand it was her choice. On the other hand, she needed the training if she stood any chance of winning fights.
Unless Lance will teach me to shift.
She sent Lance a text.
Kandice: Can you talk? I need help.
A minute later,
Lance: Are you OK? What do you need?
Kandice: It's not an emergency. I'm fine. Just need advice.
Lance: Sure, Slava has some new information. He'll be back around 3. Is then good?
Kandice: Yes. See you then.
The weight came off her shoulders. Lance possessed the ability to calm her down by offering logical ideas. Kandice returned to the kitchen where Blake was drinking iced tea and eating pizza.
She sat at the bar. "Sorry. I wasn't mad at you."
"I didn't think you were," he said between bites. "Aren't you home early? School going bad?"
"I dropped out," she said.
"Why?" he asked, nearly choking on his tea.
"The people suck, and I'm too busy. It's just for this semester while I work with Lance. I want them to train me to fight."
"What about Master Monroe?"
"Not like that," she
said. "They don't fight like us."
She took a moment to gather herself. "They can morph their body into something else. They're oborotens or shifters."
Blake didn't say anything.
"I don't understand it fully, but Lance is able to turn into something similar to an Aether Walker when he fights them. I need to learn how. Otherwise I'll never be able to take on the deadly ones."
He took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. "That seems legit. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I'm meeting them at three. Slava has new information. Do you want to come?"
"Of course," Blake said. "I've been researching online, but there's nothing out there."
"I searched for over a year, and all I found was a single forum."
"Can you send me the link?" he asked.
Kandice pulled out her phone and emailed it to Blake.
"Thanks," he said. "I'll check this out and see what I can find. Maybe the IP address will tell me more, like where the server is. Might be something."
"You're good with computers," Kandice said more to herself than Blake. "Do you think you could hack a security system?"
"I don't know if I could hack it," he half-mocked. "But it might be possible to disable it. I would just need to know who made the system, and who monitors it. You can find almost any schematic online. I've seen the blueprints for building a nuke."
Kandice laughed. "You should be the one in college."
"I'm like you," he joined her laugh, "taking the semester off."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sapphire Nation, Fencrua
Underneath the Bloody Square and the public market lay the true market. The Thieves' Market. Carved into the rock beneath the island's surface, the market sprawled out in all directions, with pillars stretching thirty feet to separate the floor and ceiling. Illuminated entirely by torches and Amethyst Lanterns, the market felt more like a crypt than a tropical island.
"Welcome, to the Thieves' Market!" Dai's voice echoed off the stone.
"Ignore his false bravado," Shaya whispered to Ren.
As the gang led Ren down a long staircase cut squarely from the stone, the temperature dropped and he felt more at home. The tropical weather had been nice at first to thaw his bones, but he learned it was possible to have too much of a good thing. Unlike the impermanent stall structures above, the merchants in this market used stone tables which appeared to grow from the ground. The ornate carvings of dolphins and other such sea creatures upon the stone surface astonished him. Construction back home was half as grand. To carve such works would have taken a master mason months.
How old is this market?
With the disappearance of magic in the Pearl Nation, it had forced them to rebuild. Without the ability to maintain structures with magic, they chose to turn their backs on magical building techniques. Instead, using their own technology. Only a handful of buildings remained from before the fall. The plague, which ravaged the city before Ren was born. Forced them to burn down many structures rather than risk further contamination. The Pearl Nation didn't have structures more than a few hundred years old.
"Watch yourself," Shaya whispered to Ren, which snapped his attention away from the architectural marvels.
As they walked north, toward a red structure in the distance, Akio whispered into Shaya's ear. Giving Ren a look as sharp as his daggers, he split off toward the stalls and merchants to the east.
"How old is this place?" Ren asked.
"No one knows exactly," she said, "but it's thought to have been built with the creation of the island."
"What? Who created the island?"
"Later—" She gripped his left elbow with a firm hand.
Maybe the story in the history book wasn't a myth after all?
Before them stood a collection of red linen tents. Each tent stood fifteen-feet tall at their center poles—though their widths varied. Connected with shared walls or small walkways. Inside the vast grotto of the Thieves' Market, the tents looked out of place, as if a nomadic tribe from the Emerald Nation's eastern deserts had set up camp underneath the city above.
Dai and his men bowed to the front entrance guards. The two men who carried curved swords, similar to the one Shaya kept fastened to her waist with a red sash. To keep the pommel of their sword in hand, they fastened ropes through two rings attached to the sword sheaths and wore the ropes around their shoulders. In effect, their swords became honorary sashes showing to the world who and what these men were.
After a quick exchange with the guards, Dai waved for Shaya and Ren to approach.
"This is Ren. He's visiting from the Pearl Nation." Dai bent his hand in midair.
When Ren didn't bow, Shaya gave him a firm tap on his back with her palm. He followed the cue and bowed with his hands at his waist like he'd seen Dai bow.
Dai cleared his throat. "And honorable Kaito-Tanken Shaya wishes to pay her respects to wise Goruden-Tanken Hiroshi."
The two guards clicked their heels at the last bit, and this time they bowed to Shaya. Dai's face betrayed his disgust, though the twins to his side seemed unphased by the pomp and ceremony.
Wrapping her arm around Ren, Shaya walked him inside the tent, and he allowed himself to be led, eager to see more. The guard to his right gave him a curt nod upon making eye contact. The inside of the tents switched from red to gold. Every carpet, linen wall, and piece of furniture was elaborately decorated with gold. Ren tried to estimate the wealth contained within, but lost count after the first hundred thousand credits.
Not even the Belfrys could afford this.
Ren attempted to rotate his neck beyond one hundred eighty degrees and tripped over his own feet. Shaya's instant reflexes stopped his fall and saved his pride. If asked, he'd blame the blinding light which reflected off of every surface. It created the illusion they were drifting through a sunny day, rather than walking through a den of thieves.
"This way," Dai said.
They walked through a maze of rooms. Each more elegant than the last, but as they made their way north, each room grew less crowded. Where the early rooms offered table betting games and cards. The later rooms became drug dens. Where men and women lay upon cushions the size of Hisoka and Jun combined, smoking the vapors of spirit dust. They entered a room larger than all the rest. Partners lay mid-coitus on plush cushions. Men with women, men with men, women with women, the last couple made Ren's cheeks run hot, and Shaya chuckled with a soft voice like a spring flower.
While sex wasn't something to be ashamed of in the Pearl Nation, it was a private matter. Not to be displayed for the enjoyment of others. Even the adult clubs provided private rooms for this exact purpose.
Ren quickened his pace to separate himself from her. None of the couples seemed to notice them.
They passed through a tunnel of golden silk curtains and met a small army. Ren quit counting after twenty.
"Ah, Dai!" A fat man yelled out. Not the fat that comes from too much beer. But the kind a man must earn by eating thirds at every meal, and only stopping at signs of indigestion. He leaned upon a specially built lounge chair, large enough for four normal men. Even Jun and Hisoka could share with room to spare. "What have you . . . brought me?" His breaths were labored and forced mid-sentence.
"A guest for your table." Dai pointed to Shaya. "But she interfered. Threatened me even."
Putting it together, there was no doubt left. The man was Goruden-Tanken Hiroshi, the complete opposite in every way from Shaya. The man's wheezing grew loud enough to hear as every side conversation died, and the men in the room turned to stare at Shaya. Most had their hands upon weapons. Two men closest to them held swords—unsheathed—at their sides.
"Shaya . . ." His voice cracked, and he coughed.
"Kaito-Tanken Shaya," She said.
"Yes, yes . . . Honorable Kaito-Tanken . . . Where is Akio?" Every man in the room flinched at the sounds of his name. Individually, unnoticeable, but twenty-plus swords shifting created a tiny thunder.
"Wise Goruden-Tanken." She bowed fast and straight, as if an invisible hand had snapped her in half. "Why do you ask? Do you mean me or mine harm?"
Hiroshi laughed, a hearty laugh that made his body wave like an ocean storm. The room echoed a half-hearted laugh. "No, no . . . Honor protects us for two more years . . . Then, we shall see if your man . . . deserves his reputation, come the Time of Daggers." He laughed again at his own joke, but this time none of his men joined.
"Wise Goruden-Tanken Hiroshi." Dai bowed slightly again. "What of the insult to me and my men?" The twins straightened their shoulders at the mention of them.
Hiroshi snapped his fingers above his head. The gesture was unbelievably fast for a man of such girth. A tall man, wearing heavy black robes, entered from behind the hanging golden walls of Hiroshi's court. The man towered over everyone else. He hunched over to avoid rubbing his head on the lower slope of the tent roof. His pale skin, and complete lack of hair, gave him the appearance of a walking skeleton.
After a whispered conversation, the giant walked forward until he was far enough from the wall to stand straight and not bump his head against the ceiling. "Wise Goruden-Tanken Hiroshi invites honorable Kaito-Tanken Shaya to his court. You're free to use any room, and he declares you'll receive every hospitality. Speak to any servant in blue, and they'll fulfill your every desire. For this is Sueun's Temporal Palace."
"Sueun's blessing," Everyone said in unison—including Shaya.
Shaya bowed her head. "I accept and thank you for your hospitality. But what of Ren?"
"Alas." The giant spread his hands out as wide they'd stretch, forcing three armed men to scoot back to avoid him. "Ren is a foreigner and not protected by honor."
"What of Ren?"
The black irises of the giant's eyes expanded until his eyes became two black mirrors. His voice echoed itself both high and low. "Not your business, Shaya, last of the damned Kaito. In two years' time, your blood will stain the stones of the square and end your wretched line."
Shaya gave a curt nod. "What, of, Ren?"
"Answer Kaito-Tanken, vile worm!" Akio's voice was light as air. Almost like a mother singing a child to sleep.