“Do we have two-fifty!” The auctioneer demanded, his tone growing urgent. “Do be quick about it now!”
Guards and servants raised heavy sheets over their noble’s ducking heads. They peered out from under them, none answering the auctioneer’s third call for two-fifty. “Sold to the gentleman with the blue feathered cap for two hundred claws.”
The auctioneer gestured for Tatlat. The Tigerian dismounted with a thump, stomping his way up the platform, nobles and their guards parting to let him pass. His armor hissed like snakes as he walked. Senka tried to listen to what they said, but it was all grunts and growls in the harsh Tigerian tongue. What she could discern was that they didn’t agree upon whatever was being discussed. Tatlat angrily jabbed the auctioneer in the chest, who in turn jabbed his finger up at the sky. Tatlat threw his arms up in what might have been disgust, shaking his head as he marched back to his men. Whatever transpired between the auctioneer went over equally as poorly with his huddled up men. There was wild gesturing, barks of annoyance, and fists thumping against chests. Their circled Tougeres pawed at each other like children playing, some looking like they were on the verge of wrestling.
Tatlat stalked down the line of captives and undid the lock that connected the string of them at the center with a glorious clink. Thankfully, Isa and Juzo were in the same group as her. She had been thinking they were likely about to auction them all off as two groups of ten or so, given the weather. It seemed her guess was proven correct as the group behind them were prodded onto the platform by Tatlat’s men.
The Whisperers shielded their eyes as the rain came down in earnest, growls growing louder by the minute from Tigerian and Tougere alike. Their voluminous fur was matted flat in a span of minutes, showing their lanky forms. She had thought the Tougere were dense beasts covered with slabs of muscle, but now without the help of their fur, she could see they were more like oversized cats. They were strong as bulls though, maybe stronger.
The auctioneer clapped his paw-like hands together as the downtrodden captives marched by him. “I realize these circumstances are unusual everyone. However, the weather is ominous, and we must conclude the remainder of these sales with the utmost haste. I’m sure that we can agree that no one wishes to be out here longer than they must…”
Mutters of agreement spread among the nobles. The auctioneer cut them off with a great clap of his hands.
She never got to know their names; knowing this would be the fate of them all. Why try to bond with them when she knew all their relationships would be transient as ghosts passing in the night? Maybe that was a mistake. Diplomacy and the forging of relationships was never her strong suit, given her history in the Tower, the failings of her life. Maybe if she had spent more time trying to get to know people, someone would’ve vied for her to stay when Claw had ousted her from the Tower.
The rain came down harder in fat droplets, whipping against her side and making her shirt heavy with wet. Squeals of worry came from the nobles, peering at each other with looks of open-jawed disbelief.
“Let’s start the bidding at five hundred claws!” the auctioneer shouted over the din of pattering rain. He angrily beckoned for a Tigerian, who came hurrying over with a wheeled awning to provide him protection from the water, though it was a moot gesture as he was already sopping wet. The young Tigerian assistant made his way to the back of the platform, eyes downcast.
A brown haired Tigerian raised his arm to bid.
“Seven hundred for this able-bodied lot! Can we get seven hundred for Tatlat Roca, marauder of Tigeria, leader of the Whisperers, wrangler of men, procurer of the finest humie flesh this side of the jungle? Anyone? Seven hundred?”
The auctioneer wildly gesticulated at the captives, highlighting their strengths and passing over their glaring weaknesses. Senka saw that one of the men was snickering to himself, another muttering curses, most staring out at the rainclouds and stoically accepting their fate. What would be her last act of defiance before she was sold off?
She stared at the ground as the back and forth haggling went between the nobles and the auctioneer. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that one of these monsters would claim some type of ownership of her body. She watched as the water started rolling over her toes in sheets, rapidly collecting to at least an inch in height. The sky roared as if the Dragon himself was above the clouds and waging a war against the storm. The nobles shrank down at a chest vibrating thunderclap, the sky sparking with light a second later. Senka looked up and grinned at the sky. The group was eventually sold for one thousand claws.
“Where is he? Damn it! Where is he?” Scab’s voice rose an octave then cracked like a prepubescent boy.
The wind lashed at her back, and the rain whipped so hard it felt like needles against her skin. She felt crusts of dirt peeling from the back of her neck, washing down her neck and face.
Senka clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax. They’ll just eat you anyway. Not much use to anyone with one arm.”
Scab frowned. “You’re not helping Senlack, not helping at all.”
“Pst.” A voice hissed from behind. She looked over her shoulder and saw both Juzo and Isa intently staring at her. “Opportunity comes.” Isa used his thumb to point over his shoulder back towards the marketplace.
Senka’s jaw fell open, and her heart skipped a beat. Tougeres bellowed, and Tigerians let out terrified whimpers. Rolling down the main street was a wall of brown water at least knee high, within it all manner of debris from squirming bodies to hundreds of jars and pots. Tatlat shouted orders that fell on deaf ears, his men jerking hard on their mounts’ reins and lurching them into a gallop, heading away from the oncoming water. Tatlat and one other Whisperer were all that remained of the once fearsome band.
The auctioneer took a few terrified steps back. “I-I think it’s time that this auction comes to an—” he yelped as he stepped too far from the back edge of the platform and fell. The captives on the platform followed after him, kicking, punching and letting out all of their fury upon him. Blood covered their flying fists, spraying up and onto the top of the platform.
Tatlat and his lone loyalist charged for them. One man grabbed a stone and started frantically hammering at his bonds. Scab started working the nub on his stump against a chain link to pry it open. Juzo grabbed the chains between his hands and stretched them out while Isa started smashing them with something metallic.
A ferocious smile crept up Senka’s cheeks as she eyed the shimmering daggers on Tatlat’s waist. She gritted her teeth and punched her own hand, dislocating her thumb with a scream. She drove her thumb deep into the socket with a gut wrenching pop, then started wriggling her hand out from her bonds. She was so close to freeing herself from Scab, Tatlat, the Whisperers, and the train of stinking filth that followed after her. There was no turning back now. The only way out was through a cave of pain.
The manacle caught on wrinkling skin, but she continued pulling as her flesh tore, her wrist going slick with blood and water, helping it along. She pulled and tugged, pain ripping up her arm. She felt the manacle slip free with a spike of pain, saw a flap of skin at least a few inches long hanging off the edge of her knuckles. She ignored it because she was partly free. She was free! Free!
A bubbling sense of euphoria filled her body, intermingling with the roaring pain, then dashing it away into a dull ember. She needed the full function of at least one hand. Senka freed her other hand with a vicious pull against the other manacle, half the flesh on her hand peeling off like a glove. She screamed as her flesh tore, popped, and cracked, knowing she’d pay for it later. It didn’t matter now. When she that saw both of her wrists were naked, a feral scream erupted from her lips. Free! She sprinted for the oncoming Whisperers. She’d make them pay for everything.
Tatlat and his soldier skidded to a halt and started to turn to flee the other way towards the rest of his men, throwing up mud in their wake. Nobles fled after them, stumbling on their dresses, long coats, an
d snagged on trousers far too tight to move properly. She gritted her teeth and growled. She must have been a terrible sight for them to turn and run from her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw it wasn’t her they were running from.
It was too late. She braced for impact.
Water blasted against the backs of her legs, throwing her face first into the hard earth. She barely caught herself with her ragged hands. Roaring water tunneled into her nostrils, down her throat, dirt and debris swimming into her mouth. She spat and coughed, rising up, the force of the water rolling over her back and pushing her down. She tumbled around and around, caught a glimpse of Tatlat being tossed from his mount, the Tougere madly pawing at the air as the water engulfed it.
She scrambled and clawed at the water, then kicked at the ground, directing herself for Tatlat. Her eyes were fixed on her prey. She watched the water roll over him, the weight of his armor making it difficult for him to stay afloat. Something thudded into the back of her head, and she grunted as a wine bottle floated past. Blood streamed from her head and down the back of her neck.
Chained limbs flailed out of the water, some twisted together. She saw a leg snared between a pair of arms. A head bobbed out of the water, then an arm lassoed around his neck, dragging him back down. A Tougere’s paw thrashed up from the water and sheared one of the hands free from its owner’s manacles. A giant log from a long dead tree crashed into them, pressing them down under the filthy water. She choked and gasped, made her way for Tatlat, his golden arm reaching up, his expression pleading for help.
She grabbed his hand, and he latched onto her arm, his nails digging into her shoulder. She reached down at his belt as she was dragged underwater, grinned as her hand slipped around the first of her father’s daggers. The familiar Dragon forged steel felt like home in her hands. She sprang up for a breath, fighting with all her strength to stay upright. Tatlat’s growling head snapped out of the water, his eyes liquid with panic. Pain sang up her arm. He was biting her, she realized, felt him starting to pull and tear at her muscles.
She bashed the top of his head with her dagger’s hilt, doing nothing to stop his madly sawing teeth, blood coursing down her arm. The weight of his enormous body coupled with his armor made her shriek as his teeth ground against her bones. Once again, her world became water, both of them swallowed in the rising torrent. She stabbed and stabbed, each time only scraping against his armor and missing his head. She quickly and carefully switched her dagger into an overhand grip, fearing losing it in the ravaging water.
She dragged her head up for a breath, sank the dagger under Tatlat’s neck, felt his warm blood mingling with the cool water between her fingers. She jerked the blade at an angle and across his throat, giving him and ear to ear smile. She rose up for another breath, water hammering her down. Tatlat’s mouth slipped free, his claw releasing from her shoulder, the pain in her hands screaming to be noticed. Her fumbling hands found her other dagger on his belt, both now clutched against her chest. The hand he had bitten felt like only two of the fingers were working right, the rest flailed open.
She tried to stand to get a look at where everyone was, the water now high as her chest and only growing in ferocity. She tried to remember what Isa did in the Far Sea to swim and began paddling with one hand, her good hand clutching her blades, legs kicking. She was staying afloat with a tremendous amount of effort, her chest heaving with every kick.
Something grabbed her, and she raised her arm to stab with both daggers when a white head bobbed up. “Senka!” Isa gasped. “Are you—?” He was pressed under, and she tried to lift him up, going under herself. He hoisted her up, spluttering on silty water. “You okay?” She nodded. They made eye contact for an instant, a smile flashing between them. “Thanks for not stabbing me,” Isa choked out.
Something collided against their entwined arms. A figure gurgled under the water. Isa reached down and dragged Juzo up, laughing. “Couldn’t have planned a better escape myself,” he spluttered, spitting a twig from the corner of his mouth.
“Your chains… how? Is there anyone with you?” Senka coughed between words.
“Had been sawing these off for days, left a sliver of metal to make them look attached,” Isa said between breaths.
“Just me and him,” Greyson gasped, grinning behind them.
Juzo raised his wrist to show where the two of them were attached. “We need to stay together; we’ll never find each other after this.” Juzo’s arm slipped around her other side, both of them working to keep her above water.
“Look out!” Greyson shouted. A cistern was rolling towards them with enough speed to easily split their skulls apart.
“On my command, go under,” Isa barked, staring back wild-eyed.
“Now!” The four of them went down in unison, chinks of light shining down and showing swirling mud, a plank, a few pieces of fruit from the market. Her chest pounded with horror at seeing a severed Tigerian arm float past. They all shot up as the cistern floated on.
“Down!” Senka yelled. She wasn’t sure why she had tried to help one of the cretins who would’ve bought her like cattle.
The Tigerian noble turned a second too late, blood spraying over the water as the giant barrel collided with his turning face. She thought then that he got what he deserved. A section of shattered wood bobbed past and Greyson snatched it. “Here! Hang on to this!”
They spread out around the nailed section of wood, throwing their arms over it. Senka realized by the sheen that it was the same wood that had made up the auctioneer’s platform. She saw the wood was marred and scraped, likely from all the chains that had crossed its surface.
“What was to destroy us, saves us.” Senka started to smile for a second and then pain roared to life in her hands. She threw her head back in a howl of pain.
“Oh, your hands!” Isa gaped. “By the Dragon and the Phoenix, what have you done to yourself?” With one hand, he started tearing fabric from his shirt, stuffing strips across his mouth. “Get a hold of me while I bandage her,” he said to Juzo. Juzo reached over the wood with a groan and grabbed Isa under the armpit, securing him tight to the raft.
Senka’s vision fluttered in and out of focus, pain filling her eyes with hot tears. She swallowed and winced as Isa pressed her torn flap of skin down over the top of her hand, the bandage going down around it to keep it in place. She felt a measure of relief as the wound was covered.
“Don’t suppose anyone has been hiding their ability to use the Phoenix,” Senka said with a grimace. Then she stared at something else that made all her pains vanish in an instant.
“Patch you right up, you’ll be okay. Not the best way to take off your bonds, crazy woman,” Isa said, his voice sounding as if it were coming from a distant alleyway. “Senka? Are you well?”
Her vision narrowed down the way it always had seconds before unleashing violence, muting all distractions. A violet snake coursed over the water as if in its natural habitat. It wound straight for a Tigerian noble and sank its spreading jaws into her throat. It hissed away from her a second later, plunged down into the water and vanished from sight. Perhaps it had died, she thought hopefully. A Tigerian commoner bobbed up farther down the stream, clutching what could only be bites on its cheek. “No. Oh, no. It’s spreading,” she whispered.
“Senka? Stay with me,” Isa snapped, bringing her attention back to him. He was working on her other hand and had slid her daggers into her bandaged one without her noticing, though her fingers were wrapped tight around them.
“Look.” She nodded at the snake winding on the water’s surface against the current, heading towards the marketplace.
“What?” Isa turned and scanned the water, the snake diving down as he turned.
“She’s here. The Shadow princess is here.” Senka’s jaw was sore with tension, teeth grinding. “He was right. Somehow Orin had known.”
“There!” Juzo pointed. “I see it.” The snake veered off between the bars of a mansion’s gate. “Shit.
Nothing we can do now, nothing but hope it only gets a few of them before something kills it.”
“A few of them…” Senka trailed off. “Do you not remember how many Tigerians we passed?” Water splashed into her face, and she swatted away a bobbing jug.
“It’s exactly what she needed,” Isa said morosely, stopping in the middle of wrapping her hand. “An army for the taking. A realm’s worth of soldiers.” His ghost white skin somehow seemed to have further blanched. His jaw flexed, and he resumed wrapping her hand.
Greyson peered at the three of them, then looked up at the sky. His jaw fell open, and eyes went wide. “I can’t believe she’s real. Can’t believe she’s here.”
She had forgotten he was there and chose to ignore him rather than waste what precious energy she had left speaking.
“Shit!” Juzo blew out his cheeks. “What are we going to do? There has to be a way to stop it.”
The water ushered them past the last of the mansions into a section of hovels, not unlike the marketplace. A parted gate loomed ahead about a quarter of a mile away, presumably exiting the city. Some Tigerians had made it to the roofs in time and sat staring down at the passing flailing forms and debris. The sky cracked and rumbled. The fat droplets started to thin out into biting needles.
She was starting to feel dizzy, felt her grip slipping from the edge of the wood. Isa saw her fading and reached down to grab her around the top of her pants, dragging her torso on top of it.
“The Shadow had been banished, destroyed long ago by Walter Glade. It has to be gone. But… why would she come here?” Greyson blubbered.
Isa and Juzo exchanged tight-lipped glances.
“Go on,” Senka murmured. “Tell him.”
“I already told him,” Isa said with ice in his voice while staring at Greyson. “He doesn’t listen.”
Ascending Shadows Page 31
