Index
Chapter 0: Before the FallChapter 0: Before the Fall
Tomorrow will come. So will the men. Merchants, traders, commanders, and informants will all descend like birds chasing handfuls of crumbs. They will flock about his throne, sitting restlessly amid the courtiers, until one by one he will see them. Their words of flattery and weak attempts at persuasion hold no more weight than a sparrow's song. My love will simply smile and oblige their presence until he is done with them. Then, with a wave of his hand, they all will scatter to the winds. Only I will remain to bask in his radiance.
I sigh deeply to myself. I love the silence, the dark, the stolen moments with Vercci. Everything I have done. Everything I do. He's worth it.
The warmth spreading through my chest is not quite enough to push away a strange nagging feeling. Something... something from the sea. It whispers wordlessly with the feeling of cold slag iron: bitter, dark, impure, and rough. Mother always said to listen when the gods speak. This is not the voice of a god. There is no god left to speak. What keeps crying out to me?
He turns over and his arm is across my chest now. Even in his dreams he provides for me. Yes, love. I need to calm down. Tomorrow comes for me as well. I must stand beside you, the cat among the sparrows. If you were ever to fall... no. I shall not allow that. I focus on the familiar song of his heart. Beneath the soft thud, the feeling of silk wrapped around polished brass and a hint of jade green. So familiar. At long last my consciousness leaves me.
Where Vercci goes, I follow. Once again I tend to my post. Fine linen in bright colors adorns my form. A lovely gift. I have adjusted to the curious leather and steel armor he procured for me. It is far less unpleasant under the summer sun than the wool padding that used to go under my chain mail. The leather straps provide good flexibility while holding together the steel plate, bucklers, and greaves at a fraction of the weight of my old kit. The exotic knives we found in the East Indies rest in their sheaths, one at each hip. What was the word the natives used for them? It had a strange crunching sound to it. -Kith? -Kath? -Kait? No matter. Left is Manus, and right is Ayus.
I stand steadfast beside the throne to Master's right. Early afternoon sun filters in from small windows high on the marble walls leaving dapples on the dark stone floor. Familiar banners along the marble showcase my master's symbol proudly in rich colors. Thick wine red carpet leaves a trail from the steps before the throne to the thick mahogany doors at the far end of the great hall. The sweet snell of burning sandalwood, cloves, and spices wafts from a small brass censor near the doors, shrouding us from any outside odors. Yet I can faintly hear the great flock fluttering and twittering among each other beyond the doors. One by one a courtier allows them in. I smile softly as their chirps drift past my ears. It doesn't matter where they flew in from; they all sing the same old songs."Please inspect our wares." "How many pieces can you provide?" "Won't you consider a discount?" My eyes remain squarely on them, but don't care about the cries of birds. I listen in for anything actually important.
"It's done." the Spaniard said. Suddenly there was a heavy thud in my chest. Once more I felt the whisper of rough impure iron.
He seemed too old to be here, though years of abuse at sea will do that to a man. Sharp dark eyes peered past weathered cheeks tanned dark by sun and salt. The streaks of silver in his hair echoed the silver buttons on his ornate jacket. A captain. He stank of stale water, dried blood, and sweat. Did he not even think to bathe before coming in? If his miasma affects my master I will kill him myself!
Vercci raised a hand gracefully, the embroidered sleeves of his shirt dangling elegantly beneath his wrist."Splendid. Soul Edge has been located. You will be rewarded upon it's safe arrival. Full payment for my weapon plus incidentals. Please have everything itemized ahead of time."
My heart was racing. Were the stories real? Could there be a sword of immortality? Would my beloved be able to last with me forever? Why wasn't I feeling happy? The slag iron was nagging even stronger now than it had than the night before. It's a weapons trade, same as always. We've done this a million times. We're doing everything right. Why can't I shake the feeling of something wrong?
The Spaniard smiled through chipped yellowed teeth."It will be yours before the air turns cold. My men have already begun the process. I promise you, I will not fail."
He bowed deeply towards Vercci, but as he rose those dark eyes burned into mine. For a moment something hot and sulfurous seemed to burn the back of my tongue. I inwardly retched, but outwardly held my composure. Spoiled milk and rotting tar. Black corrupted emptiness inside of him. Where did this devil escape from? And beneath it all, the slag iron clattered like unholy church bells. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. No... it can't be possible. Master knows what he is doing. He always has. But something is still wrong! That man...
"Very good, Captain Cervantes. I release you to your duty."
I knew this is when Master would wave for the courtier to escort the monster away. I dared not glance to see his hand. My eyes stayed fixed in place: that beast must go. Get from my sight! Away. Away! Taint our home no further! My hands moved to Manus and Ayus even though his back was finally turned towards me. One wrong move and I would swiftly strike. Get him gone. Seeing the chamber door close behind him was a cold comfort. The feeling of rotted corruption gradually faded, yet the dull pang of slag iron echoed like the remnants of a stab wound. I kept eyes trained on the door long after the bleak presence was gone.
"So, you feel it, too, Voldo? Our incoming victory?"
My attention turned towards my beloved. He leaned back in the throne, one stocking-covered calf crossing his knee. His head titled slightly upwards in my direction as a lock of his brown hair gracefully slid out of his silken cap to rest on his soft olive cheek. I took in a deep breath and attempted to project an air of calm. How should I react? Certainly he feels it, too. How could he not? Yet he is unbothered. Is it really just me? Perhaps. Either way, he must have a plan. He always does. Things will be fine, as always. I was simply unsettled by the terrible presence before my love. That's all. Steady, now. Steady.
"So this one is different, then." a little smile crossed his thin dark lips."I knew it. Captain Cervantes has an untouched reputation when it comes to rarity procural. His price will be worth it." Vercci's gracefully narrow fingers locked together as a dreamlike look slipped into his deep brown eyes. My eyes met his and I soon was lost in warm thoughts.
He chuckled cheerfully,"Oh-ho! I see you are looking forward to it, too. Yes, my boy. It will be here before the fall. You can count on it as sure as the seasons."
Vercci turned his attention back towards the great chamber doors. A little golden hand bell rested on a finely turned mahoony table to the left of the throne. He unclasped his hands, took up the bell, and rang three times. I snapped to attention once more. The courtier would hear the bell and escort in the next visitor. It was time for the next sparrow in our net.
The sky is roaring again, jolting me from my slumber. The memory keeps coming back in my dreams as of late. The sleepless nights. That terrible pirate brute. The graceful shape of my beloved's smile. I'm plucked from it like a fish out of the sea. I lay gasping alone on a pile of tanned pelts as cool dampness clings to my skin. I breathe in the stale bitter air, it's scent tainted with rotting timbers, old stone, and decayed oil paintings. It was so long ago that his bones have gone to dust and ashes. I don't even remember my own face anymore. Yet, somehow, this memory comes back starkly clear over and over again. My love; what is it you wish to tell me? Speak to me once more, please. I beg of you!
The soft sound of tiny paws scuffle across a pile of brittle chinese pottery. A small rounded shape of buttercup yellow whispers to me of warm roast apples. It's just Marigold. She approaches gingerly, her wet tiny nose tickling my cheek with little kisses. She knows I'm awake. I stroke her soft fur with my fingertips. The only kindness I get anymore is from rats. Master has not spoken with me in a very long time. I have waited, sir. I have watched. I defend your treasures. I defend your sanctuary and your resting place. Have I displeased you somehow? What more can I do? Why do you only haunt my dreams? Your dark eyes in mine forever is all I wanted. Now all I have is darkness.
The emptiness in my chest is deeper than the one in my belly. I push it aside as I have done countless times before. I must stay strong. I must continue the mission. For my beloved master. For Vercci! I sigh as I pick up Marigold, placing her on my shoulder. I need to find something to eat.
I wind between old chests that used to smell of fragrant wood and what once were bolts of fine silk. I am careful not to touch anything anymore. Last time someone found their way to this level they fell into a pile of handwoven rugs. The pile swiftly collapsed and fell into him in return. Nothing could be salvaged. I can't afford to make any mistakes. I have the correct route memorized, every step counted and committed to memory. As long as no unwelcome guests arrive, I shouldn't have any surprises. I pause beside a trip wire near the door, checking it carefully. Still good. Then I move on to the stairs, carefully avoiding the pressure plates hidden between the stones. I should try to get behind the wall again. When was the last time I oiled the spears?
The stench of old mold and rotted seaweed greets me as I decend. The next floor down is the tricky one. I tried to remove all of the water after the last flood, but it always seems to find it's way back in. I spent weeks trying to understand where it was coming from. The floor above is usually fairly dry. Meanwhile the floor below drains out towards the sea. Although it can occasionally flood as well, it's usually not as wet as this one. It seems water is seeping in through the walls themselves. Thick slippery sickly patches of half alive sea plants cling to the walls and floor in among molds that never seem to chip away. Oh, how I have tried! It all has grown and died in layers for far too long and can not be removed. Everything I couldn't drag to higher floors has been taken over much the same way as the walls have. Even the pressure plates and trip wires have rusted to nothing on this floor. There's nothing left to maintain here. On the bright side, the slick flooring is a delightful trap in and of itself. The uneven mix od old stone and mold has caused many unwitting fools to crack their heads. It makes my job much easier.
The path to the old mooring is hidden down a long alcove. Wooden stairs once joined the alcove leading down to the docks. All the wood has since rotted and fallen away leaving just the stones that once kept them in place. Although I know the distance between the stones, there is greater risk here. I pause, focusing to bring things out brighter. The sea whispers quietly in the distance, it's deep blue droning echoing in the waters below the former stairs. It is not a deadly fall, but it is very unpleasant. One I wish to avoid. I see matching shimmers of deep blue covering the sides and tops of several of dark brown mumurs that hold firm where stone should be. I should be careful on four through nine. They are wet today. And what's this? A bright patch has appeared on sixteen that echoes of the plants upstairs. The plants are spreading here.
Damn it. I must build enough scaffolding to be able to safely scrape the plants away before they take hold. If I do not do this, I will lose this route entirely someday. I click my tongue against the back of my teeth. I will need wood for this. I need strong beams to repair the failing parts of the roof. I'm waiting on the hardwood trees to grow large enough for my purposes. If I was to cut them now, I might not have enough for the roof. Coconut wood could be a stopgap, but it's not a good one. The inside wood is too soft to support weight. Meanwhile the outside wood rots easily. I wouldn't be able to make much use out of each tree for very long. Each tree felled also means less food for me. Is hunger worth risking? I breathe out in a frustrated hiss. It's one more problem to solve. There's always more problems. I wish Master was here. He'd know the best plan. He always did.
Marigold pulls on one of my armor straps. She wants down. I kneel down, placing my hand above the floor. Tiny claws tickle my skin as she hurries down my arm, scurrying away from the stairs. I can't blame her for exercising caution. The cats are down there. And soon I will join them.
Each leap lands with careful certainty as I decend the stones. I feel Manus and Ayus clank reassuringly against my flanks with each footfall. Their new holsters are holding well. Good. I wasn't sure the swine's sinew would be strong enough. The previous one didn't last long. The feeling of sandy soil beneath my bare soles alerts me to landfall. When I first came here there were five grand galleys tied to the docks. All that remains is a small sandy spit inside of a sea cave. A flash of green and sharp pitch comes to my mind as a cat dashes up to me. It's purr reverberates like thunder off the limestone walls. I lean down to try to pet it, but it darts back from my hand. This cat does not want my kindness. It wants my fish. How human-like cats are. They only come when they want something and only remain if they have what they wanted. It's probably why we kept them on the ships. That and their penchant for devouring mice.
As I approach where my nets are kept, the purring increases. More cats have joined. A few of the bolder ones rub against my calves and ankles, their warm fur tickling my skin. I try to time my steps, but it's hard to avoid them as they crowd around me. Their voices and feelings muddle into one large fuzzy mass. One would think that by now they would have learned not to do this. One would have hoped that the cats could understand that I can't see. Yet every time I accidentally plant my foot into one of their furry sides the poor beasts yowl and scratch! I feel terrible about it. Poor creatures.
At my destination at long last, it's time to check the nets. I pull along their length, running my hands along the braided coir ropes and feeling each knot with care. If there is any damage it will need to be repaired before use. Thankfully, this net seems to be in good order. I carefully gather the net and wade waist deep into the water. With a single throw the net is cast. I will check it when I'm done here. I go ashore and grab a coconut for breakfast. The hull was previously shucked away to make rope. It's easy enough to crack it open with my blade. As I sip the delightful water from inside, I contemplate what I need to complete today. Skins need stretching and oiling. Shoulder baskets need to be finished. Fish oil needs to be pressed. I should gather more driftwood to smoke a little fish for later. Before I leave here I also have to shave my body and wash away the sweat and salt. A good bath before I go on patrol always sets me into a better mood. Thank the gods there's a small spring in here. If I have the chance, I should go topside today. I wonder if the cherries are ready. The last of the limes should be done, but the coconuts should be around a little longer.