by Kyle Spencer
“That way, I think. Past the desert.” She furrows her brow as if delving deep for old memories. Past the desert! By gods she's come a long way.
“What about your friend here?” Mercy chimes in. Of course she was listening in; nothing escapes those big ears of her. Those big, soft ears that are so fun to nibble on…
No. No. Focus.
The maus looks over my shoulder at the dazed monk. “Hey!” She shouts suddenly. Right in my ear. “Hey, dumkopf!” Her voice seems to snap him out of his stupor. He blinks twice. He looks at the maus, then at me, then at Mercy, then at the mole. Then back at the maus.
“Wait,” he says, “who are you calling dumkopf? For that matter, what is a dumkopf?”
“You threw me over three leopards. Threw me! What good was that going to do!?”
“At least it was something!” The monk shouts back. “Didn't see you coming up with any ideas!”
“Whoa whoa whoa!” Mercy steps in. “Let's start from the beginning.”
“It's...a long story.” They say in unison.
“It's about another eight hours until we get to Aquarian.” Mercy says cheerily. “I think we've got time.”
***
I stare at Mercy and she returns my gaze. We both look back to the small tufts poking upward from the horizon. The crisp night wind is fierce and even from this distance we can see those puffs of leaves swaying to and fro as if the trees are waving one last goodbye to us. I lean back against the hard wooden wall of the traveler’s waystation, cautiously eying the myriad people on the road to my right. Merchants, adventurers, soldiers, and others go on their way without so much as a sideways glance in our direction. Almost home free.
“So,” Mercy is the first to break the long silence after Bow finishes his story, “how did you get to the road?” I sit beside the monk, dumbfounded. This duo here claims to have come from Evershade. Evershade! A town that isn’t supposed to exist! For two centuries explorers and other thrill-seekers have braved the Ivywood searching for that place. However, most don’t realize the one simple fact about the Ivywood: it’s a damn huge forest. Most who go off the beaten path don’t return. Those who do tell stories of a twisted and impenetrable heart where no sane creature would ever dare to start a settlement. The only one who claimed to even get close was Irving van Zandt, who said a giant wall of brambles blocked his path and moved with him to prevent his going forward. Granted, he was lost in those woods for two years and was an infamous drunkard upon returning, so who’s to say?
The monk slowly shakes his head after a brief pause. “I don't know.”
He knows. In fact, I sense that there's quite a bit the two of them aren't telling us, and a lot of it probably has to do with that pendant around Bow's neck. That little maus Susi kept looking at it throughout the monk's story like she expected it to pitch in or something. I don't like all this not knowing, although it doesn't really matter. Once we get to Aquarian we'll go our separate ways. Mercy and I will collect our payment, stay at a nice hotel for a few days (maybe one of those new Love Hotels people keep talking about), then find our next client. Or rather, wait till our next client finds us. Our names do indeed precede ourselves.
“W-well yes, umm,” Spectacles finally gets the courage to speak since I put him in his place, “that was a lovely story. But, umm, as we all can see, the sun has set. For quite a while, in fact. And I do not wish to be on the road for too much longer now that it’s dark.”
Mercy scoffs. “Do the rich always worry so much?”
Hew's Gambit
Listen tae mah story ay a moggie named Hew
never was thaur an enemy he cooldnae cut throo
with a axe oan his back an' a fierce battlecry
he wud vanquish his foes an'...
- Unfinished poem found in the ruins of Clan Shadowpaw
“Now listen and listen well, lad. There’s an old saying: ‘Don’t kill the messenger’. Let me tell you right now that that’s shite. I’ve killed plenty of messengers. For incompetence. For forgetting the message. Hel, I’ve killed messengers just so I could send a message of me own, as long as they weren’t one of my messengers that is. But I have never, NEVER, killed one for bringing me bad news. It’s a bad look, lad, and it shows that you’re losing your grip on things - losing control of the situation.”
My father’s words ring softly in my ears as blood pools at my feet. The messenger was a young one with a lot of potential that will now never be realized. His throat lay open, spilling the last bit of his life and the rest of his message, forever undelivered.
‘They have escaped’ was the last thing that broke his lips before my claws ended him.
My heart races. I look around wildly to everyone else in the room. My advisers back away a few steps, their wide eyes at seeing a plan unraveling and a chieftain losing his grip.
“Clean this up and get out of my sight.” I grunt and whirl around, retreating to my bedchamber to calm down. Behind me are quiet shuffles as the body is disposed of. Within a few minutes there will be no trace of what had occurred. I march across my room and collapse into a large chair by the fireplace. The fire is dying. Everything is dying. A decanter of whisky sits half-empty on a table next to me.
I ignore the soft footfalls into my chamber and the creak of the door closing. I left it open on purpose, knowing that there would be one who did not fear to follow me in here. “That was...foolish.” The weathered voice stays near the doorway. If it was any other voice I would silence it eternally for daring to speak such words, but this one belongs to Hew Padraigson, Clan Shadowpaw’s most trusted advisor since my grandfather (my his fur hang in the Hall of Glory forever). I take a swig of the whisky. The peaty smokiness sits in my mouth for a minute before I let it spread fire down my throat. When it finally subsides I look behind me to glare at the old bastard.
Hew stands there, a frail shadow of his former glory days. When he served my grandfather he was known as Cullen Padraigson. In those days he wielded not a claymore but a monstrous battleaxe and he prided himself on taking a body part - if not a life - with every swing. The mountain of severed limbs he created earned him the name Hew. But now…now most of the muscle have left his bones, leaving only flaps of skin and mottled fur. The spots have faded to a dull, hazy fog. All but one tooth is missing and his left eye is a puckered hole from when a wyvern tore it out. The other eye stares accusingly at me.
“Foolish, huh?” I take another swig.
“I would say so. And so would your sean-seanair.”
“Leave him out of this!” I snap. Hew doesn’t flinch. “He’s dead. My father is dead. I am the chieftain now.”
“Indeed you are.” Hew steps forward, a shaky step but one that carries command and pride. “And if you want to keep it that way I suggest you listen to me.” He pauses for my response. I wave an apathetic paw. He continues, “It was a dangerous gamble. One that so far you are losing. Now, as I see it you have three options. First, you do nothing and hope the truth does not out, which I highly doubt will be the case. They have ways of finding these things out. And if they do, well, you will have sentenced the entire clan to a fate worse than death. Second is you send more of our scouts. But even if they were to succeed it will draw a lot of unwanted attention our way, giving rise to a whole slew of new problems.”
“How about you tell me things I don’t already know.” Less than an inch is left in the decanter, and a soft fuzz envelopes my brain.
Hew raises a respectful paw. “Which brings me to option three. We send someone else out. Someone who does not fail - has never failed.”
“Empty words.” I snarl. “Every mercenary alive has ‘never failed’.” In the world of sellswords, failure is death.
“I’m talking about the Ko’mori.” He says sharply. I spit the remaining whisky into the fire where it flares angrily at me.
“Ha! Myths and bedtime stories to scare cubs.”
“I honestly wish that were true. But they do exist. And I know how to conta
ct them.”
“And how would you know how to contact them?”
“Because I did so at the behest of your father many years ago.”
I turn back and stare into the fire, letting Hew’s words and the haze of whisky swirl around in my mind. No option is good right now, but if Hew speaks the truth - and he always has, even to his own detriment - then these bedtime stories come to life might be our best bet.
“What will it take?” I ask after some time.
“That will be determined when you meet with them. Last time it was gold. Almost all that we had.”
“How do our coffers look?”
“We still have quite the surplus from that shipment of silver ore we sent to the guildmeisters in Veluka. There should be enough without hurting us too much financially.”
“How soon can they get here?”
“Tonight.” Hew’s response is instantaneous.
“Then make it so.”
The Jewel by the Sea
Aquarian! Aquarian! Jewel by the sea! From gilded hall to salty quay! I will always pine for thee!
Aquarian! Aquarian! Away from thee I flee! Wretched hive of scum and villainy!
- From City by the Sea
“I miss them already.” Susi sighs as she skips along the road.
“Yeah, they were pretty cool.”
“I wonder what they're doing now?” She asks innocently.
“Heh, I can imagine.” I look down at Susi’s judgmental eyes. Leena sighs wearily. “...I wasn't supposed to say that out loud.”
“Hopeless.” The water spirit grumbles. A part of me is very glad we didn't mention her to our recent traveling buddies. Not so much for the mercs – there was an honor about them, or about as much honor as mercs could have. No, it was that mole. Snotty little bastard. Looked like he’d sell out his own mother for a pair of spectacles.
“Bow, I'm hungry.” Susi puts her paws over her stomach in the universal sign of 'feed me now, dammit'.
“Yeah, now that you mention it.” When was the last time we actually ate? I scan the surrounding signs for a restaurant or eatery. “Hey, how about that one?”
“Madam La Rou's Pussy Palace.” Susi spits out the words distastefully as she reads a sign that has a picture of a very scantily clad cat. She cocks an eyebrow. “Do they even have food?”
“Does it matter?” I chuckle as I take a step towards the place. “And besides, I – ow!” Susi plants her foot squarely in the center of mine. She gives me another look. The Look.
“Food.” She growls. “Now.”
***
“Y'know, I bet they have even better soup at Madam La Rou's…” There's that look again. “Right.” Although I have to admit, this is pretty damn good soup. And bread. And salad. Well, the food better be good for how much it’s costing us. Leave it to Susi to choose the most expensive restaurant on the street, although a small parting gift from Love and Mercy has made the meal quite affordable. Good thing too, after seeing the dessert tray.
“Whoa!” Susi exclaims as a vast array of cakes, pies, and tarts is rolled past her. “I want all the things!”
“Then let's get all the things.” I jingle the heavy coin sack nestled in the inside pocket of my robe. Truth be told, I've been eying that lemon crème tart with champagne-soaked raspberries since we walked into this place.
“Nnnnnggg…” Well, that's a new noise, especially coming from Leena. Susi's ears perk up at Leena’s moans as well.
“Do you...do you even eat?” Susi asks.
“You know, besides the souls of the innocent.” I jab.
“Hmph.” Leena pouts. “Well I wouldn't know considering I'm –“
“Trapped in a glass vial around my neck yeah we get it.” One of those lemon tarts is placed in front of me by a fancy squirrel with an equally fancy tuxedo and a pencil-thin mustache. I pluck one of the raspberries off the edge of the tart. Holy shit is it juicy! “Here. Let's try an experiment.” I pop off the top of Leena's vial and squeeze in the dark red fruit. Susi and I watch intently as the juice turns the entire vial a cloudy red. Slowly the color fades and the vial turns crystal clear again. The raspberry is gone.
“Bow.” Leena says slowly. Deliberately. “You need to let me out of this vial. Right. Now.”
“No. Way.”
“Bow. I must have more of that amazing food.”
“It's called a tart. And no. I still don't trust you enough.”
“Set me free so I can consume this 'tart'. Do so or I shall tear your soul in twain.”
“See, that kind of language won't get you more dessert.” I pluck another raspberry and pop it into my mouth. “Or freedom.” Oh sweet merciful Hel; I would tear a soul in twain to get more of this stuff. “But, if you ask real nice I'll share with you.”
“May I...may I please have some more 'tart’?” Her tone is nice enough to warrant another raspberry as well as some lemon cream. They disappear just like the previous morsel. “Mmm...I very well might not kill you and devour your essence.”
“Yeah, good desserts will do that. Would you like to try some of this, Susi?”
“Nah, I'm good.” Susi says cheerfully. All I can see are her ears sticking out the sides of a mountain of ice cream. “But,” she says in between mouthfuls, “where do we go from here?”
“First there's someone I need to see.”
“Who?”
“You'll see. Right now though, dessert! Want some more, Leena?”
“Yesyesyesyesyes!!!!”
***
The avenue that serves as the main artery for Aquarian run East to West, cutting the city in half. Everything south has the distinct smell of saltwater, sewage, and sex. Everything north smells like aristocrats’ assholes. But it all mixes together on this cobblestoned main line. Wider than some of the great rivers that run through this land, ‘The Drag’ - as most locals call it - carries all sorts to and from their daily business. Ramshackle shops and stalls begin to pop up in the center as hawkers shout their wares to the rising sun. Susi and I walk (well...waddle) along the edge, keeping to the walls and out of the way of the ever-increasing flow of people.
“Oomf!” Susi leans against a building and pats her extended belly. “Too much ice cream…”
“False.” I chuckle and pat my own bulging stomach. “It’s a proven fact that ice cream takes up no space in the stomach, allowing you to eat as much as you want.”
“Really?” Leena pipes up hopefully.
“No.”
“…Jerk.”
“Anyways. Over here.” I veer off into one of the many alleys that branch off The Drag. Immediately the stench from the south grows stronger, forcing its way into my nostrils and lingering in the back of my throat. Susi brings her pink gloves over her nose and looks at me accusingly. I smile bashfully and shrug. “Sorry but I’ve got to see a friend and this is the fastest way. You’ll get used to the smell soon enough. Besides, I think that OW!” My right calf spasms as something is jammed into it. A quick hop-turn reveals a cross-armed Susi sticking her tongue out at me.
“You’ll get used to the kicks soon enough.”
“Why you little…actually y’know what? That’s a fair reaction.” I hold my own nose against the horrid stench. It’s much worse than when I was here last.
“Can we just keep going?” Leena huffs. “The smell is quite horrible.”
Wait. Can she even smell through that thing?
“So who’s this ‘friend’?” Air quotes go up besides the maus’ ears.
“He’s an alchemist. Good guy. Gives me weapons and a place to stay. I give him money. We’ve got a good system going.”
“Wait-wait-wait! Weapons?!”
“…Yeah?”
“But you’re a monk.”
“Um, yeah. Not mutually exclusive.”
“What kind of monk are you?”
“I already told you: not a good one. But to be more specific, the kind that buys weapons from a shady alchemist. Duh.”
“That
’s it!” My tail catches on something and I’m tugged to a stop. Susi walks around in front of me - still holding my tail - and plants her feet down with a hmph! “Before I go anywhere else with you, I want to know what you’re about-”
“Easy. Sex, booze, and more sex.”
“I mean what are you doing here? Don’t monks belong on some sacred mountain somewhere, meditating under a waterfall or listening to one hand clapping and all that?”
She’s taken aback as I’m thrown against a wall in a fit of laughter. When it finally subsides, I wipe away tears and pat her on the head.
“Do you really think that’s all monks do? Meditate and eat lotus petals and ponder the mysteries of the universe?”
“Well, I…” Susi blushes and looks down at her feet.
“Yes. We actually do those things.”
“You ass!” Another swift kick. This time to the shin.
“Hey hey hey! No more kicking! But to really answer your question, I’m here because our monastery kicks us out after a certain amount of time. Twenty years, to be exact. Once you’ve been there twenty years to the day you walk out the gates with nothing on your back. You’re out in the wide world, on your own, for five years. After that it’s up to you if you want to return to the monastery.”
“How many monks return?”
“All of them.”
“And you?”
“Tomorrow will be my eighth year.”
“Oh.”
There’s a long pause. And boy is it awkward.
“So,” I shift my weight uncomfortably, “you gonna ask why?”
Susi ponders it for a moment, then shakes her head.
“I want to know why.” Leena says.
“You don’t count.” I shoot back playfully. “Okay then.” We set out again. The maze of alleyways in Aquarian can make a person very lost very quickly, but I’ve traveled these urban canyons enough times to know where I’m going, “Now it’s my turn. What in Hel’s name happened back in Evershade?” Susi, who has now taken to clamping on my tail as I lead her through this labyrinth, stays silent.
Finally, “I don’t know what you mean.”
