Kieran pressed his advantage, aiming for her neck. She grabbed his knife hand, her leg shaking but not quite buckling as he leaned into her grip, trying to drive the point into Tegan.
It felt as if he was nine again, trying to steal her purse. Tegan had a hold of his arm, just as she did then, and he knew what she was going to do next. His opening would come. He would just have to endure and keep a clear head. Kieran did his best to brace himself, anticipating the pain to come.
This is going to hurt.
She twisted and snapped his arm. He dropped to one knee, not having to pretend the pain was excruciating. Tegan didn’t release his arm. She stood over him, a throaty, gloating chuckle gliding from her throat. Kieran’s other arm hung down as he did his best to conceal his intent.
“Stand,” Tegan commanded as she pulled up on his broken arm. Kieran whimpered, panic beginning to take over his brain.
The handle, grab the damn handle!
He heard the rasp of the blade hidden on his arm as Tegan drew it out of its sheath.
“Stand,” she repeated, her voice letting out the all-too-familiar sing-song taunt as she yanked on his arm again. “I want to see the light leave your eyes as you die.”
His hand closed around the hilt of the knife in his boot. His scream was equal parts agony, fury, and loss as he shot to his feet, slamming the knife between Tegan’s ribs and into her heart. He fell away as Tegan gasped. She took three steps, stalking after him before the knife fell from her fingers.
She coughed twice, and a red froth bubbled up between her lips. Tegan dropped down hard onto both knees. She coughed again. More blood erupted from her mouth, and then Kieran was there, tears falling down his cheeks as he lowered Tegan gently to the ground.
“Why?” Kieran demanded.
“To . . . see . . .” Tegan began before coughing again.
“To see what?”
“To see what you would do.” A male voice sounded behind him. The same voice Kieran had heard talking with Tegan earlier.
“Going to try and kill me?” Kieran asked as he picked up the knife Tegan had dropped. He rose to his feet. The sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the cavernous room. Kieran tensed, preparing to launch himself at the man and whoever was with him.
“Why would we try and kill you?”
Kieran’s breath caught in his throat. The knife clattered to the ground. His mind was a cloud of confusion.
That was Tegan’s voice.
Kieran looked down. Tegan lay on the ground. Blood still trickled from the corner of her mouth. Definitely dead. What in the Abyss was going on? Kieran turned around. Al and Zee stood there, both flanking . . .
Tegan?
“I know you are confused,” this other Tegan said with a placating gesture.
“But . . . I just killed you,” Kieran protested. His mind was still reeling, unable to connect the pieces.
“Did you?” Tegan gestured for him to look at the corpse. Kieran turned to see a black mist rising from the body as it became devoid of color. The heavy mist rose further into the air as the body evaporated. The mist swirled around Kieran and headed towards the real Tegan.
Kieran followed its progress, his mouth agape. Tegan lifted an upraised palm, and the mist collected there, coalescing into the shape of a ball before sinking into her skin. She lowered her hand, a look of bemusement on her face.
“You saw what I wanted you to see,” she explained. “Heard what I wanted you to hear,” she continued, though now her voice was altered, lower in octave. It matched the register of the man he’d heard conspiring with Tegan earlier.
“It is the only way to really test a person,” she said, back in her normal voice, “to see if they are ready to join the Guild. And now we can truly welcome you into our ranks.”
“But I was about to graduate from the second level of the Winnowing,” Kieran protested. “All that was left was one . . . mission . . .” Kieran trailed off.
“This mission,” Al interjected.
“This type of scenario is always the final test for someone wishing to become a Guild member,” Zee added.
“And you acted just as we hoped you would,” Tegan said, “as you have been taught: for the good of the Guild.”
“How could you do this though?” Kieran demanded. His voice quivered as tears streamed down his cheeks. He had been trained to respect his fellow Guild-mates. This seemed unnecessarily cruel. Deceitful.
“Told you he wouldn’t take it well,” Al muttered.
“A person is always tasked with tracking the senior member of the Guild they have become closest to during their training,” Tegan explained, using soothing tones. “You will hate us for a while.”
“I did,” Ziba chimed in.
“Me too,” Al sighed.
“But you will come around eventually,” Tegan assured Kieran.
“You’re right,” Kieran agreed. “I do hate you bunch of assholes.”
“Come now, Mongoose,” Tegan chided, putting extra emphasis on the last word. “Is that any way to speak to your colleagues?”
“Excuse you?” Kieran protested.
“You are exceptionally quick and deadly, though you do not appear to be.” Tegan inclined her head. “It is a name worthy of you. A badge you have earned.”
“It’s almost as bad as ‘Little Dark One,’” Kieran complained. “I might actually prefer it. Mongooses are obnoxious, vicious little rodents no one has a problem stepping on!”
“Give it some time,” Tegan soothed, “you will come to appreciate it.”
Kieran walked on shaky legs to stand before Tegan. He looked up into her pale green eyes that twinkled with mirth. And he punched her face.
Hard.
Tegan stumbled, but whipped her hands out to her sides to keep Al and Zee from stepping in. Kieran stood there and glared at the three of them, not backing down and not looking at all apologetic.
“No,” Tegan told them, “that was deserved. In fact, I am surprised it does not happen more often.”
Kieran brushed by them, making sure he bumped hard into Al’s shoulder along the way. Al cursed.
“You know,” Tegan raised her voice to call after Kieran, “you never asked me how I can make a copy of a person.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Kieran replied over his shoulder, not looking back.
“Well then,” Tegan called back, sounding affronted. “Your first assignment is in two days . . . Mongoose. I will send along one of the healers later to take care of that arm. And remember, it is . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, for the Guild, I know,” Kieran stopped and half-turned to call back. “I’ll be there. You know you could have healed my arm when I was nine the same way.”
“Why would I have done that?” Tegan asked, chuckling. Kieran raised his middle finger as he turned back and disappeared into the shadows.
J.A. Mette
About the Author
J.A. Mette is a father, fiance, and video game enthusiast. He is working on his first book in The Light’s Herald Trilogy as well as other fantasy works.
The Offering
By C.L. Thomas
"But we promised no presents!" Harlowe argued, though she couldn't hide a tiny smile from her sister.
"You promised. I only nodded. Technically, it was not an actual agreement." Holly grinned, tossing her blonde curls with a red-lipped smile. "Just open it!"
“My birthday isn’t even until tomorrow,” She grumbled back, but accepted the gift nonetheless.
Harlowe yanked off the worn burlap and opened the lid on the tiny hinged box. Inside was a tiny bird skull dipped in silver. A small blue enameled feather dangled below it. The whole thing was attached to a pin in the back: a brooch. Harlowe stared at it in wonder, running her fingers over the smooth surface.
Drax fluttered excitedly on Harlowe’s shoulder, chirping his thoughts at her. Blue! Pretty, shiny blue!
Familiars like Drax weren’t uncommon in Varia. It was one of the few gifts in li
fe that didn’t depend on station or standing; it was all chance. She’d met Drax in the woods while collecting firewood one day, just a little bluebird shivering on a small branch, his feet practically frozen to the twig.
Harlowe hadn’t thought twice; she knew the second she saw him that the little bluebird had to come home with her. They’d been inseparable ever since, and eventually, they’d become close enough to share thoughts. Their bond was deep, magical. Drax would now live as long as Harlowe, if life permitted. He was a part of her. Her sister Holly hadn’t been lucky enough to find a familiar for herself, but she didn’t seem to mind.
Harlowe turned to her sister as she held the little trinket. "Holly . . . where . . . how did you find this? You didn't steal it, did you?"
Holly held up her hands. "Do you think I'd risk getting you in trouble by giving you a hot gift? This one's squeaky clean. I had it made. Jae owed me one, and he's working at a jeweler’s now. Found the stuff myself and had him put it together. And you gave me that skull as a gift when you were itty-bitty. You were so proud of that little thing. Thought you might like it all together like that."
"Are you kidding? I can’t believe you kept that. . . . It's amazing!" Harlowe stroked the surface of the little skull with reverence. She gathered her cloak—just a long piece of wool—around her shoulders and used the brooch to fasten it together, then turned to show Holly.
"Looks sharp." Holly grinned, nodding in approval. "Be careful no one lifts it."
"You think I'd let anyone take this beauty off me?" Harlowe snorted, flexing. She had a stocky build and broad shoulders, all thanks to lifting sacks at the mill. Holly was svelte, curvy, and dark-haired in contrast. She took after their mother. Their father passed away during the plague, and their mother had lived another five years before dying of pneumonia. Holly had taken care of them until Harlowe was able to pull her weight, and they’d been a team ever since.
"I've got to hit the streets, you get some sleep." Holly smiled, ruffling Harlowe's hair before heading to the door. She dressed in a worn corset and loose skirts, hiked up to her waist on one side to expose her netted tights.
Harlowe spent a little time finding a good hiding spot for her new brooch, she wasn’t about to take it to work with her. She hid it within the small box it had come in and placed it under her straw bed for now. Sleep came easily that night.
Work time! Work time!
Harlowe cracked open her eyes with a sigh, feeling Drax’s tiny bird feet hopping around on her chest as he chirped and chittered.
“I’m up, I’m up,” She murmured sleepily, rubbing at her eyes as she sat up. Drax fluttered to her shoulder, awake enough for the both of them.
“Yeah, I know, you’re the early bird. I’m not.” She grumbled, swatting at him.
Drax flew up into the air with a little chirp. Up now!
“Yeah, yeah. I’m up. Good job.”
Despite her general dislike of early mornings, Drax always seemed to keep at least the hint of a smile on her face.
Drax accompanied Harlowe to the mill, chirping a refrain out loud as he sang his little morning song in her head.
Off to mill, off to mill, go to work, we will, we will!
It was the same tune he always sang, and it never failed to brighten her spirits. The hours were long, and the work so grueling it left her blistered and bruised most days, but Drax’s never-ending levity made it all seem worth the effort, and Holly’s grin after a long day made her feel that despite it all, life wasn’t so bad.
After a long day at the mill, made shorter with Drax’s cheerful presence, Harlowe returned home. She opened the door slowly as Holly would be asleep by this time in the afternoon, only to find their home empty. Holly’s bed looked exactly as it had when she’d left in the morning, untouched. She should have been home by now, snoring away after a long night of work. As hard as Harlowe tried not to worry, she couldn’t help but fear the worst.
She left their hovel and took to the streets with Drax fluttering overhead. She knew Holly’s usual spots; she could only hope that it had been a slow night, and Holly had decided to work the day shift instead. “Drax, fly ahead and tell me if you see her.”
Looking for Holly! Drax responded in her mind as she darted on ahead.
Harlowe walked with purpose, ignoring the sights and smells of the bustling market district as she made her way to the Red Rose Alleys. Drax fluttered overhead, chittering as he shared his thoughts with her.
No Holly, found nice Gavin! Nice Gavin has seeds.
Harlowe followed Drax around a corner and down a slender alley to find a cherry-lipped man in silks with a hand full of seeds. The little bird landed on his palm with a happy chirp and went back to eating. Gavin looked up as Harlowe approached. “I knew you couldn’t be far behind. . . . How are you, honey?”
“I’d be better if I knew where Holly was. Have you seen her?”
"You didn't hear, did you? She's been arrested. Some high-born prat tried to take more than he paid for, so she clocked him, and he went whining to the authorities saying he'd been accosted. It's bullshit, of course, but you know how things are..." He sighed. Gavin had been working the Red Rose Alley a few years longer than Holly. They often worked together to fish out the queer clients who liked to keep their preferences private, acting as a front for each other between servicing their typical clientele.
Sometimes, though, their clients with clout used their power against them no matter how well they serviced them. "They usually release us within a couple days when this shit happens. Just take it easy and keep an eye open for when she gets back, alright? She'll be fine. Most of us've had run-ins with pricks like that. We always come out fine." He assured her, patting her shoulder. "They just have to make a show of putting us in our places, then we’re right back to work. Usually for the same ones who put us away in the first place."
Shocked by both the circumstance and Gavin’s nonchalance about the whole thing, Harlowe found herself at a loss.
Drax hopped from Gavin’s hand, now empty of seeds, onto Harlowe’s shoulder. Holly come home?
Harlowe lifted up her finger to him to stroke his soft feathers. “She’ll be home later, I guess. Not much we can do but wait.” She gave Gavin a grateful nod. “Thanks.”
“Don’t be a stranger, honey.” Gavin smiled his reassurance, “She’ll be okay. She always is.”
Harlowe went home, trying to quell her worry. It didn’t help when Holly didn't come home the next day. Or the next.
Holly had told her stories about this happening with some of her friends in the business, and it always turned out fine in the end. Harlowe tried to be patient.
It wasn't until five days later that Holly came stumbling home, coughing, covered in bruises, and clutching her side.
Harlowe shot to her feet the second the door opened. She helped her sister into their small home, stuffing down the boiling anger that threatened to burst out. "Holly, what—"
"Don't." Holly hissed in pain as she sat down, with Harlowe's help. She took a long few moments, trembling and drawing in careful, pained breaths before she looked up at Harlowe, "I just . . . I need to sleep. We'll—we'll talk soon, but right now, I—I can't."
Harlowe's heart broke. There had never been anything they wouldn't talk about with each other. Still, she was too worried about her sister to press. "Okay,” she mumbled, helping Holly get into bed. She seemed to hurt every time she moved. Every time she drew in a breath, it triggered another coughing fit.
It took over an hour of hacking and wheezing before Holly finally seemed to sleep. Harlowe, however, couldn't. Not well, at least. She had to sleep some, of course. She couldn't afford to miss a shift at the mill, especially since Holly hadn't been able to work all week and now she was hurt, so she’d be out of commission a while longer. They needed every copper they could scrape together.
In the morning, she made sure to leave food and water right next to Holly's bed, as well as a basin in case she felt sick. She turned to Dra
x and told him, Stay here with her. Let me know when she wakes, okay?
Yes, yes! Drax chirped softly, settling in by Holly's sleeping form.
Harlowe lifted a finger to her lips, Quietly! Let her sleep.
Drax looked at her and opened his beak in a silent chirp of affirmation. He hopped to Holly’s pillow and fluffed his feathers, settling in to keep watch.
Once she was certain Holly would stay asleep, Harlowe left for work. She didn't hear from Drax. The longer the day went on, the more worried she grew. Finally, just as the day was waning, Drax drifted into the mill and fluttered in the air in front of Harlowe. Sister awake!
Relief rushed through Harlowe. She couldn't show it, of course. She had to be a dutiful worker, and she made sure to throw herself completely into her work until it was quitting time. When the whistle blew, she was out of there in a flash, running back home. "I'm back! Holly, I'm here,” she called out as she barged inside.
Drax fluttered in behind her, landing on the table beside Holly's bed. Holly coughed and looked up at Harlowe. Harlowe expected a smile, at least an attempt at one, but Holly barely kept eye contact. She laid still, shuddering, curled up weakly on her bed. The food on the table lay untouched, the water barely sipped. "Holly . . ." Harlowe knelt beside her. "What happened?"
Holly closed her eyes. "What do you think?"
Harlowe didn't answer. She couldn’t. After a long moment, she took a deep breath. "Gavin told me about the noble bastard. And the guard. Was this . . . the guards doing?"
Holly coughed, but managed a nod.
Harlowe clenched her fists. "Which ones? I'll pound their—"
"You'll do nothing." Holly coughed out firmly. "You hear me? Nothing. Or they'll do worse to you."
Harlowe got to her feet, "I'm not going to just—"
"You will." Holly hissed, but she ended up in another coughing fit. This time, blood dotted her sleeve when she pulled her hand away, the first stain of what Harlowe dreaded would be more.
Harlowe’s heart pounded. "Holly? Holly, you—"
The First Stain Page 14
