by J A Stone
“I’ll take care of it my Lord, best you forget about this conversation.”
*
Just above them, an ethereal Tawnee Shadoweye hovered, bursting with rage over the machinations of these two men.
I want to kill them, she found herself thinking.
You and I both, British’s thoughts came through as though spoken aloud.
Suddenly, British drew her Westbury Scimitar and attacked, her cunning blade whishing through the body of the boy King to no effect.
*
Aaron waived a hand across his face, attempting to swat the gnats he could not see.
“Good hunting Number One,” he said to Angus.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, but me and a dozen of my boys are going to take a leave of absence my Lord King. I will see you soon with a ponytailed present.”
They left, Aaron still swatting at the pesky gnats…
*
“RAAAA!” British screamed in frustration, simply unable to touch, still swinging away with the Westbury. Master Po rushed her, forcefully restraining the sword hand and speaking to her face to face with feral eyes.
“Find your calm now little flower—find your calm.”
“Wait a second,” Tawnee had an idea, a remote feeling. Her invisible, ethereal form followed the brash young Aaron as he entered King’s Tower. She pushed close to him, close enough to kiss.
Then she pressed herself inside.
Blackness, weightlessness. Tawnee opened her eyes and jerked when she saw the little elf-people sleeping on her body.
They leaped and flew away—startled themselves—some of the tiny critters scratching her by accident in the reaction to get free.
“Ow!” she heard her own voice—still dreaming.
“Tawnee?” the distant sound of her birth name. She was Shadoweye for so long—Shadoweye the Kotare Assassin—it was British who first spoke her real name after all those years. She fell in love that day, when this beautiful creature called her by her true name…
“Wake her now British she’s in danger!”
“I’m trying! TAWNEE! Wake up! Oh the gods no honey TAWNEE!”
Oceanport, Base of Salt Mountain
The following day, attitudes were somber as Danica and Iris arrived at the stables.
“Will sheh beh alright?” Iris was beset with worry, having become good friends with the silent Tawnee in recent weeks.
“Yeah, she almost didn’t make it out. Master Po said she was lingering in that alternate dimension on purpose. But Tawnee won’t say, and we all know she doesn’t break that easy,” Warfell smiled when little Raptor brought Rarity outside. “She’s so much stronger than she believes.”
“Sheh is when it matters.”
“Damn straight, Raptor! Are you doing well down here?” Danica leaped atop her Appaloosa.
“I love it Cappy,” he held a finger up, dashing away to fetch Dare.
“Anything you need Son.” Warfell was glad the boy enjoyed working with Equines. He seemed to be doing an excellent job.
“Weh should have brought some Danes,” Iris’ eyes glassed over when she saw the magnificent Sand Pony trotting free of the stables—eager to run. She closed the distance and twisted her body up and over.
“Nah—I want to gauge your impressions—see if I’m going crazy.”
“Oh heh’s out here, weh know this,” Iris and Robert were both a little sensitive over losing the male Arenthian on the mountain.
“But is he handsome? With a fancy sword, wearing vintage clothing?” Danica realized she was piqued romantically, turning her head sideways with a distant blank stare, thinking how odd that was, despite the fact she was a Human-Arenthian hybrid, and he was good looking.
“Captain?”
“Yup,” Danica snapped back, bringing Rarity about to face the wood. “We rode not two clicks in—”
“I smell him already.”
“Northwest maybe fifteen, wait—what?”
“Heh’s close Cap, I say ride the trail and let happen what may,” Iris made sense.
“Alright stay close, YAH!”
They took off, leaving young Raptor sitting on the corral-gate. Snow began falling and the thirteen-year-old Knight jumped to the straw deck to let Snowflake outside. True to his name, the bright white stallion adored the tingle of a mid-autumn snow and as predicted, he was already calling for his young friend to release him.
“Ima comin’ big fella, hold your horses—heh-heh,” Raptor smiled wide and thrust the bay doors open.
Snowflake bounded past the boy in a flash of white. He knew Rarity and Dare were just taken to find the man with the long hair and he wanted to be there for it. Unlike Danica, Snowflake did indeed see the strange man disappear. He moved faster than British did, as a tiny wolf spider does, seeming to appear a short distance away in a series of lightning-jumps faster than the eye can follow.
“Aw shit that’s not good,” said Raptor to the air as the Tiborean Purebred bounded over the tall fence and sprinted for the pines—straight behind Rarity and Dare.
Less than a click in, under cover of the white-tipped conifers, Snowflake caught the unusual scent of the dark man. He slowed, keeping his distance.
Just ahead, Danica and Iris dismounted.
“Heh’s here somewhere, watching us Cap,” Iris closed her greys and breathed deep of the crisp autumn air.
“Yeah, I can feel it now. What do you suppose he wants?” Warfell scanned the forest with her steely blues.
“Heh neds sex,” Iris answered bluntly. “Weh are all but gone, and the drive to mate is powerful.” Okay that made sense.
“You gonna let him put a dozen babies in you?” Danica said the words with a clear collateral message—I’m not!
“Seven Devils no, it requires using symbionts to gestate the litter of fetuses—”
“Got it!” Danica held a palm up, remembering the grisly details of the Arenthian breeding cycle. Seems the females could not carry twelve or more babies to term, so elaborate methods of using the wombs of humans and other higher mammals were developed.
“Forgive meh,” said Iris, when the strange man suddenly appeared from behind a thick pine trunk, maybe five hundred feet away.
“Ello, you do see him?” Danica needed an affirmation. “Iris?”
“Run Captain—heh’s not here to mate, RUN!”
From a quarter-mile out the man was sprinting towards them, black hair billowing behind as he cut through the snow impossibly fast. Danica stood her ground.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she abruptly pulled Tung-Vohra free, the glistening Katana emitting a piercing ‘shiing!’ through the snowy forest.
“Suits meh,” Iris moved to the side and flushed her grey hair black, extending her fangs and crouching low like the animal she sometimes was.
Twenty paces, the male Arenthian jogged to a bouncing stop. He stood there with a look of admiration on a handsome face. Then he bowed deep, gesticulating as though before a royal assembly.
“Saloo, thou most beautiful,” his voice was as heavy as the archaic accent.
“Saloo,” Iris responded in kind with a short bow. Danica stood resolute.
“Who are you?” Warfell asked bravely.
“Nona alto consequentia, thy graceful swan,” he smiled. Danica realized the pitch black eyes were focused on her.
“Heh won’t say,” Iris clarified.
“Figured that much,” Danica lowered her sparkling blade. “What do you want?”
“Tis I wot?” he laughed, quietly at first and then much louder. “Tis I wot, alto consequentia, fair dove.”
“Heh won’t—”
“GOT IT,” now Danica was getting pissed. She made the decision and abruptly walked forward.
“Captain?” Iris warned, but Danica continued with her Katana low to the ground. She stopped at five paces, close enough to strike.
“Did you kill some drunks in the city couple weeks back?”
“Tender thy
tongue oft mine, most faire.”
“Check it out pretty boy—this here be my forest,” Danica moved even closer.
“Captain?” Iris’ obsidian strands intensified to a purplish hue of black.
High above at six-thousand feet vertical, five hundred feet internal, British leaned over Tawnee, delicately blotting sweat from the former Assassin’s forehead.
“That was too close Tawnee—no more,” she whispered, believing her lover was still asleep. “Dad got what he wanted anyway. It won’t be long and he will go after the King.”
Tawnee opened her eyes. She signed: come what may.
“I agree, in fact, I’m curious to see for myself if he can do it,” said British, but her friend and lover was already shaking her head no adamantly, reaching for her tablet and scratching down some words.
Leave him alone for now. Come Solstice, when we make our move, I can push him from that end. I know what to do.
British chewed her lower lip as she read the words, hesitantly nodding her agreement, and tearing the paper into a hundred small pieces afterwards.
“C’mon lazy bones, we need to go shopping downstairs,” the pixie rose from the bedside and found some leathers for Tawnee to slink into. “Momma needs some rare elements—barium, mercury.”
Thirty minutes later, the girls were almost to the cable-lift, when Tom Snow came jogging in.
“Boss, have you seen Danica? I mean Warfell—Captain Warfell?” seemed Tom was always chasing her down these days—his overdone ardor so obvious.
“She’s down on deck with Iris, wanna come?” British knew he did.
“Yeah, sure boss, that’d be cool, I mean whatever,” he tried to cover over his angst as the three boarded the carriage.
Behind them, deep inside the mount, from the shadows of British and Tawnee’s chambers, the Aequitas Caelum materialized. The Phantom moved slowly to the side of the bed, closing his incorporeal eyes and concentrating on the tiny scraps of paper tossed haphazardly to the white tiles.
Open Forestlands, Sixty Miles Southwest of Salt Mountain
His full name was Angus Axyln—his station and rank nona alto consequentia—yet men leaped forward at his call.
Axyln came from the ghettos of the old city of Tibor Proper. Born to a pureblood Mother, he lived with his Raven Father in a hovel. For all that is right, this man should have despised the green-eyed Tiboreans for resigning him to a life of poverty and abuse, yet he eventually embraced their political ideals, rising incredibly fast as a young adult in the arenas of espionage, intelligence and security.
And Angus was fast with the tongue, learning early in life, how to command conversations and manipulate people to devastating means. His rise to power within the Tiborean political infrastructure was well planned; his abilities as a factotum made this young man indispensable to whomever he worked for and with. His intelligence, coupled with uncanny abilities of persuasion allowed him the freedom of anonymity, and the recognition he needed to ascend in power.
His squad of twelve? For this mission, Angus chose the finest fighters, thieves and Assassins available. Three of them were his close friends, Bromil, Dago, and Annaliese Hope, the latter being Angus’ personal Assassin, a former Kotare Chief. Annaliese knew Shadoweye as a child and she never liked her which made this particular job a personal one.
The others were hired guns, mercenaries who came well recommended. All of them were stone cold killers and that was exactly what Angus needed for the job.
“Annaliese?” Angus asked across the fire, motioning her close.
“What’cha got?” the woman replied, moving around the men and gear, the firelight sparkling off of her facial tattoos—identical to Tawnee’s.
“On the fade, we begin the first phase,” Angus stared into the brown eyes.
“Got it, tell Bromil to wait for my signal this time?”
“What’s the signal?”
“No idea, just tell him to hold back please. Last mission almost scrubbed because of him,” Annaliese thought she was asking nicely. Bromil did not, charging forward with a finger extended.
“We are supposed to be a team, Hope. Your lone wolf antics nearly scrubbed that job.”
“STAND DOWN, both of you!” Angus moved between his two alphas. “Hope, I want you to bring Tinker, and send him aloft the second you have a visual on a Devil. Bromil, you are with me, and I’ll only wait so long, so PIPE DOWN!” Angus shot his face from one to another.
“Aye boss,” the brute of a man relaxed and walked away. Angus gave his attention to Annaliese.
“Phase one on the fade, right.”
“Right.”
Oceanport
“Snowflake leaped the gate and followed the Captain and Iris northwest into the pine, couldn’t have stopped him if I tried Ma’am.” Raptor kept his head low, anticipating the anger.
“Dammit-man, I’m on a timeline,” British was irked but still on task. “Alright, Tawnee, go after them with Tom and Raptor. Rap, pick me out one of Bigfoot’s Broncos please, no saddle, just bridle and reins,”
“Yes Ma’am!” the boy dashed away, thrilled to be given a task with two of the Knights.
“I gotta get these two elements, but I’ll be back here quick. Listen they could be anywhere, so divide, stop and listen for a while first, savvy?” British bounced atop the hearty Bronco, a male. “Meet me back here in one hour or I’m gonna be mad,” she smiled.
No hesitation, Tom and Tawnee mounted their Black Racers and trotted away with Raptor in the lead on a Scarlet Quarterhorse, pointing to where Danica and Iris entered the forest.
British watched them go, clicking tongue to teeth for the Bronco and galloping into town for the critical chemicals…
Pine Forest West of Salt Mountain
Two clicks in, they split up. Tawnee took the northwest, Tom to the southwest and little Raptor in the middle.
Within shouting distance, Tawnee quietly touched boots to snow. She then tethered her mare and found a nook to sit down in beneath the bows of a young evergreen sapling. She closed her eyes and slipped away within moments...
*
Who are you?
My name is Tawnee Shadoweye.
Why did that man kill me?
To put you inside of me.
I don’t—but why?
He is an evil entity with great power. May I ask your name?
Tara, Tara Shadowfall.
That is a beautiful name. Listen, I don’t have much time. I need you to help me with something.
You want to kill that man. Not me, no thank you.
Yeah I wasn’t asking little girl…
*
“What’s wrong with her?” Tom Snow stood next to Raptor, looming over the entranced Tawnee, seated in meditative pose with her eyes half open. Seems her six-season mare got worried, freed her loose tether and galloped off to get the boys—smart horse.
“She’s in a deep trance Mr. Snow, I’ve spied her doing this with British,” the teenager realized what he just said. “I mean, I’ve heard about this.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Tom really didn’t care. “Okay, stand guard, bring the Equines behind and settle them, keep your eyes and ears peeled. I’m gonna trot around and try to find some hoof-prints. Back here in ten,” Tom gave the boy an automatic pistol, gripping the barrel tight before releasing it to the eager grasp. “Respect the weapon Son, I trust in you.”
“Aye Sir, see you in a minute,” the boy kept his mind on the assigned task, immediately gathering the horses.
Tom found the unmistakably wide prints of the Snowhorse nearby and followed at a walk with his shotgun high. It didn’t take long.
In the distance, he saw Danica and Iris slumped over on horseback with Snowflake aside them. Blood adorned the sides of the Appaloosa and Sand Pony—both riders horribly wounded. Tom shouted back to Raptor, pulled a small pistol and fired twice at the ground, then spurned his Black Racer to a run.
“Gods, are you okay?” asked Tom as Danica raise
d her sleepy head from Rarity’s bloody neckline. He quickly panned the wood. “RAPTOR!” he shouted, “Dammit boy where are you? Captain—Danica say something!”
“Hi Tommy—always wanted you,” the platinum-haired beauty spoke as if drunk. Snowman saw the fang marks. “We have a problem,” she whispered, falling from the saddle into Tom’s strong arms.
As he held Danica tight, Iris lifted her head.
“Anti-venom—get British luv,” she slid from Dare’s slick back to the snowy deck, landing on her shaky feet with a grunt.
Raptor and Tawnee came pounding in seconds later…
Whiterock Stables, Base of Salt Mountain
“Hold her down you guys!” British fumbled with the syringe, tapping the needle and excising some of the precious anti-venom. Fortunately, the stables were well stocked—even the most experienced horses sometimes step on rattlers.
She administered the medicine to a struggling Warfell.
“How is she this strong?” little Raptor asked, attempting to hold down a leg and losing his battle, almost catching a knee to the chin.
“It’s her new physiology Rap, she’s been enhanced in two different ways,” British held a hand to Danica’s cheek. “When my Dad pushes Souls into you it makes you physically and mentally stronger. Also the LVM virus gave her the muscles of a wild animal.”
“But she’s not a true Arenthian, like Miss Iris?” Raptor looked over to the grey-haired marvel of evolution. She was already sitting up and smiling.
“No, but her DNA has been altered, making her a genuine hybrid,” said British.
“Enough—not a specimen here,” said Warfell as she opened her eyes. British hugged her tight as her tall, lean frame finally relaxed beneath the hands of Tom, Tawnee and Raptor.
“What happened partner?”
“He bit me British. Goddamned vampire bit me on the freakin’ neck,” Danica moved her finger to the field dressing and closed her eyes for a brief moment. “He’s so gorgeous British—never seen a man so good looking.”
