by Jeff Kish
Talkem wrinkles his nose but chooses to change the subject. “Give me your report, Hyrel.”
The informant is sheepish in his response. “The news I bear is grim. I received word that four of my men encountered exact target matches yesterday in Canterin’s harbor. They even had the missing Haran in their custody. However, my men failed to subdue the targets, and they’re now en route to Alleria, as we suspected.”
Talkem remains emotionless in his response. “Impressive to have escaped four Eagles. We must remember that they successfully invaded the military barracks and fought off our runic. They cannot be underestimated.”
“Eagle does not underestimate,” Hyrel replies with great frustration. “If only I had been there, I could have-”
“We do not live in the past,” Talkem calmly reassures him. “In a sense, their presence in Alleria only gives us a greater cushion since the military cannot go there. We have our Krypta connections. All is not lost.”
The contact finds himself calmed by Talkem’s words. “I do have a glimmer of good news, as we happen to be familiar with their choice in a smuggling vessel. They are bound for the port town of Rydret.”
“Then this report isn’t as bad as you had believed,” Talkem says. “Gather your men and follow them. I will send a courier with funds to meet you tomorrow in Canterin.”
“As you wish,” Hyrel says with a bow as he disappears into the brush.
Despite Eagle’s failure, the well-connected commander finds himself comfortable with the turn of events. For the moment, his greater stress is the mysterious cancellation of their runic demonstration. He returns to the barracks to uncover whether his general has already discovered a second ancient weapon.
Chapter 5
The city of Maaman has long been the most populous in all of Valvoren, even predating the train lines which have only fueled its growth in recent years. Having narrowly avoided direct conflict during the war, it is the population center closest to the border even while located nearly one hundred miles away. Only small towns dot the landscape beyond, as Maaman is the penultimate train stop before the tracks come to their end.
The cramped housing district on the western side of town is the dank underbelly to an otherwise prosperous city. Though scuffles amongst the beggars and reprobates are far from uncommon, the sight of a trio of soldiers chasing a ragtag youth near the day’s end is unusual enough to draw the attention of the locals. The youth rounds a corner and squeezes through the crumbling wall of a dwelling in a desperate bid to catch his breath. His pursuers obliviously pass him by as his gray eyes watch from within the darkened residence, and a relieved smile stretches across his dirty face. The boy called Alam brushes off his tattered clothes and white-gray hair as he slides out from the dusty nook, only to collide with yet another soldier.
“He’s back here!” the private calls to his allies when his target recovers and dashes away.
“I HATE SOLDIERS!” the youth screams as he jumps into an open window and dashes through a rundown home. An elderly resident yelps at the intruder, but the boy leaps out another window and lands in the alley outside.
“I think you’ve had enough fun,” a firm voice shouts from behind.
The suspect spins to find an adversary towering over him. Sporting sandy brown hair that extends just past his periwinkle cap, the officer’s green eyes, peppered with specks of red, are firmly locked onto his objective. Alam feels his neck hairs stand on end, as if sensing a dangerous aura exuding from the decorated soldier. He backs away, and a lump forms in his throat as he squeaks, “I didn’t steal anything, I swear! That old codger at the shop is a liar, and everyone knows it!”
“You aren’t in trouble,” the officer assures him. “My name is Commander Galen. We simply have some questions for you.”
Two other soldiers approach, and the boy realizes he’s cornered against a dead-end alley. “Leave me alone or… or you’ll regret it!”
“I will repeat, you are not in trouble. You will stand down or-”
“-or what?” Alam goads. “You bunch of weaklings come any closer and you’ll find yourselves fried.”
“If that is your choice…” Galen beckons for the other soldiers to move in.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Alam quietly yet anxiously taunts as sparks dance between his fingers, waiting patiently for his opponents to grab his bare, electrified arms. However, he suddenly notices their hands are gloved, as if to directly counter his abilities. Boldly, he leaps at one aggressor and shoves his hand to the uncovered skin at the soldier’s neck, releasing the electric current with a powerful snap. His victim collapses as his ally snatches the lightning elementalist by the forearm, but the swift teenager grapples his aggressor’s arm, yanks off his glove, and unleashes another powerful surge of electricity with a deafening pop.
As Alam’s second victim falls, Galen draws a wooden rod and shouts, “That’s enough! Assaulting soldiers is an egregious crime against the crown. For the last time, stand down!”
With the soldiers writhing at his feet, Alam confidently faces Galen. “You came prepared for me,” he observes in annoyance, motioning to the thick, leather gloves on the commander’s hands, “but it won’t be enough!” Alam charges Galen, his fingertips sparking. However, the skilled commander slaps away his opponent’s electrified wrists and reaches a gloved hand out, snagging the urchin by his shirt. He throws the boy to his back and lifts a boot to stomp on his head.
The lightning elementalist frantically catches Galen’s foot. “Leave me ALONE!” he screams as he pumps a tremendous charge into Galen’s boot, eventually penetrating the leather and delivering a painful jolt.
Galen yanks his foot back and swings his rod down. However, the youth unexpectedly locks weapons with a small blade of his own. “Gotcha,” he says playfully. The boy’s electricity surges into Galen’s rod, and, despite the protective gloves, the shock is enough to send him stumbling backward. The veteran soldier winces, but he readies himself for the next round.
“Still haven’t given up?” a bewildered Alam complains, frustrated by his opponent’s tenacity. Charging his hands again, he smirks and snickers, “You must be a glutton for punishment.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The quiet yet stern voice appears from behind Alam, an impossibility given his back was to the wall. He spins in alarm to find a girl no older than he, dressed the part of a soldier and standing, barefoot, within striking distance. Her blond, shoulder-length hair blows gently in the breeze as she meets him with brilliant yellow irises, their jaded gaze offering equal parts apathy and regret. He stumbles backward in astonishment, but she lacks the urgency of her allies as she merely studies him with arms folded. “You should give up,” she advises, her voice reflecting a wisdom her age should defy. “You cannot defeat the military.”
The boy gapes at this newcomer. “Just what is YOUR deal? You’re really a soldier?”
“I am,” she says with resignation.
“Yeesh. What are you, ten?”
Di’s eyes narrow. “I’m almost fourt-” she starts before cutting herself off, realizing the comment isn’t exactly valid anymore.
“Back down, Diamond,” Galen sternly orders. “I have this situation under control.”
“It certainly doesn’t appear that way,” she retorts.
“Why are you after me?” the boy interjects. “I’m telling you that I didn’t do anything!”
“Doesn’t matter,” Di serenely replies as she boldly steps toward him. “Fight back if you want, but I’ve been ordered to use force if you resist. And I always follow my orders.”
“You’re really going to try and stop me?” Alam scoffs. “These grown men are no match for me! What can a kid your age do?”
Di clenches her fists, his words eroding her sense of calm. “Don’t test me.”
“Oh, yeah?” he challenges, charging himself to the highest level yet. As sparks of electricity leap among his arms, legs, and torso,
he defiantly taunts his opponent. “Come try it! I’ll even fry a little kid if I have to-”
“I’M ALMOST FOURTEEN!” Di screams as she fiercely kicks Alam in the stomach with a bare foot. As he stoops, she slams him in the forehead, and his head cracks backward into an invisible plane of hardened air, extended from Di’s other hand. The runic’s victim falls to the street, unconscious, and the electricity dispels into the earth.
One of the injured soldiers cautiously pokes the boy in the arm. “He’s fully dispelled, sir.”
“I can see that,” Galen mumbles as he removes his gloves. Irritated, he asks Di, “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to watch from a distance.”
“I was ordered to ensure the target’s capture,” she answers with a sly grin. “Apparently you needed the help.”
“I did not,” he claims as his men bind the elementalist’s hands.
“Hmph. Don’t act like I had a choice in the matter.”
Galen massages his hand, his skin still tingling from the encounter. “How did you avoid getting shocked?”
Di knocks her hand and foot together, revealing a thick layer of air that envelopes each appendage. “Air is an insulator to electricity. Sure beats those puny gloves you brought along.”
Galen resists the urge to reply, regretting yet again he was tasked with the continuing search for the runics. “Are all of you mere children?” he laments, glancing to the gawking onlookers glued to their windows. “We’re going to lose favor if we continue assaulting juveniles in broad daylight.”
“Like when you kidnapped a poor, defenseless girl from school?” Di sneers. “I presume this kid matches the description? You know more than I do, given that sleazy broker of yours.”
The two soldiers lift the youth by his arms, and Galen studies the purported runic’s facial features. “He seems to check out. Adolescent, light gray hair, powerful lightning elementalism…” He pulls open an eyelid. “…and eyes that match his hair. Perhaps a trait with all of you?”
“There’s always one way to confirm,” Di points out as she plucks a hair and holds the strand between two air-protected fingers. After a few seconds, the hair abruptly disappears.
The commander’s brow furrows. “I expected that to be more interesting, like a small electric jolt.”
“Lightning elementalism is a bit of a misnomer,” Di explains, her enthusiasm on display as she taps into her academic expertise. “The control point is charge. The hair diffused into electric charge, which energized the air around it, but not enough to create a spark.”
Galen pockets his protective gloves. “Very well, then, I suppose that proves it. I’ll send word to the general, and you should prepare for a long train ride. Given your ability to contain him, I’m assigning you as his bodyguard.”
Di puffs her cheeks. “Whatever you say. The general made you his proxy, so I have to do your bidding.”
“Don’t remind me,” Galen mutters beneath his breath, not any happier with the circumstances. He marches back toward camp, and his subordinates follow, dragging the youth by his arms.
As the troops disappear around a corner, Di hangs back to make full use of the little freedom she owns. Despite the general’s directive to maintain a close proximity to Galen, Di finds she has leeway in how she abides by the subjective mandate. She absent-mindedly grabs at her hair, still unaccustomed to its newly shortened length, and her mind wanders back to Era. With the military exhausting its resources hunting the remaining runics, she reasons it may only be a matter of time before he is caught. She looks to the pink sky, desperately hoping her former guardian has found a hideaway beyond Graff’s reach.
* * *
A jolt awakens Era from his slumber, frustrating the one-armed runic as he endures another restless night. His troubled thoughts are enough to keep him from a deep sleep, and the long creaks echoing through the ship only add to his insomnia. He rises from his allotted bed and uses the moonlight from the porthole to exit the sleeping quarters he shares with his partner. Sprawled sideways in her small bed, Jem’s position forces a quiet laugh out of him, and he closes the privacy curtain as he wanders into the main passageway.
The salty, dank atmosphere of the weathered ship is a stark reminder of his strange location, and for a moment he’s reminded of his disastrous stowaway adventure from a month ago. From there, his memories progress to the landing outside Canterin and the subsequent capture of the young schoolgirl he had sworn to protect. The next time he saw Di, she was no longer the innocent yet whiny know-it-all he had come to appreciate. His shoulder tingles as he replays their fateful skirmish, and his throat goes dry at the reminder of the skill gap that now exists between them. He is intensely aware that he doesn’t stand a chance against the air runic. At least not as he is now.
A rolling swell tilts the floor to an angle, which causes the land dweller to stumble as he reminds himself he is sailing in open waters. He catches himself on the wall outside the onboard saloon, and Era is not surprised to find several sailors still awake at this hour, drinking their worries away. Though not one for drowning his sorrows, Era finds the revelry alluring as he imagines an intoxicated bliss overshadowing his current plight. Still, he can already feel the repercussions Jem would inflict for his lack of discipline, so he summons his willpower and hurries past.
The aimless runic soon finds himself on the main deck, joining a skeleton crew lethargically performing its midnight duties. Despite the rocky waters, the night sky is clear and beautiful, displaying a majesty of stars stretched across an unending expanse he rarely sees from his usual resting place on the forest floor. He peers over the rail into the darkness of the ocean, where the moonlight reflects off the waves crashing violently into the hull. Despite the heavenly lights, to Era it feels as if they’re forging through an eternal abyss. He shivers and retreats inward.
As Era approaches the front of the ship, he spots a familiar, petite figure reclined near the bowsprit. A bottle in hand, Fire is leaning against the rail overlooking the waters. With her red handkerchief ripped in the tussle at Canterin, it seems the remaining fabric is now tied around her left bicep. Her loose hair blows gently in the sea breeze, and Era is once more reminded that the cold operative has a human side to her.
Instantly, he is drawn back to Fire’s act of self-sacrifice as she took Di off the sky boat. Having not witnessed the act, he is still unable to visualize Fire making such a decision. Her actions in that moment were in stark contrast to her character, and Era struggles to grasp her true feelings toward him. Still, he knows one thing for certain: that attempted sacrifice was for him, and his heart rate accelerates as he approaches carefully, knowing Fire would react poorly to a surprise.
“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” she calls, negating his concern. “You left the ice queen by herself? This ship is full of drunken sailors, you realize?”
“Yes, and I shudder to think what happens to the poor fool who messes with her,” Era jokes as he takes a position next to her. “Stars are beautiful tonight. Or do assassins notice such things?”
She shrugs. “I noticed.”
Weary of the ocean’s darkness, he sits against the rail so as to direct his sights elsewhere. “So why are you awake?”
“Why are you awake?”
Era sighs. “I was just trying to make conversation. You’re always so private. Would it really hurt to open up a little?”
“My business is my own,” she says as she takes a swig of her bottle, her eyes still locked onto the dark void stretched before her.
“Sure. Until it brings a mob of angry Academy professors down on my head,” he complains. “We’re partners, you know?”
“Pah, partners!” she sneers, a little too loudly as she takes another drink. “You’ll learn soon enough. Partners will only let you down.”
Era raises his eyebrows. “Have you… had a partner before?”
“Yes, I had a partner once,” she answers. “She was as dumb and naïve as you,” she s
ays, pointing right between his eyes. “Ugh, you remind me so much of her.”
“Wow, you had a Jem in your life?” he asks with satisfaction.
“No, I just said it. I had a moron in my life.”
He can’t help a smile. “You forget my name a lot. It’s Era.”
“Whatever. It’s a terrible name.”
“Not as bad as yours. Are you named after the actual element?”
Fire stares at her empty bottle. “I haven’t put much thought into it. My parents died when I was young, so I never got to ask.”
Surprised by the revelation, Era pauses before uttering, “Oh, sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs. “Was taken in by an orphanage in Allas for five years, then I set out on my own.”
“Is that when you became an assassin?” he asks.
“Is that really how you think it works?” she responds in amusement. “No, I picked up a job serving drinks in Nadar, though the money wasn’t worth dealing with the patronage we served.”
“Wow, Fire! You were a bar wench?” Era exclaims.
“I was a waitress,” she stresses. “Waitress.”
Eagerly, Era leans back and says, “Wow, I’d sure love to see you wearing that outfit!”
Fire uncomfortably opts to move on. “I heard I could make good coin in the Merc Market. I decided to visit the market hall to see what I could find out.”
“So why partner up with someone?” he asks, his thoughts returning to the original conversation. “Doesn’t exactly fit your persona.”
“Because when you’re a rookie in the Merc Market, you do what it takes to survive,” she states. “I wouldn’t have made it far if not for…” Her defenses already shattered by the spirits, she grips the scrap of cloth tied to her arm as she recalls, “I saved every venni for two months. It took me half the day just to build the courage to walk into that bar. But that was the day I got my start in the market. It was also the day I met Hallie.”
