The Heartstone Chronicles: Windchaser

Chapter One

He scratched at his black nose with one paw, his eyes alighting upon the small yet noticeable bulge beneath the young man’s tunic. He shook his head and curled up his lips, baring his teeth in a murine parody of a smile. As the noblemen neared, he sauntered nonchalantly towards them; the perfumed fop paid him no heed, confident in his flimsy disguise. His paw flickered down as he came abreast of him, brushing the nobleman’s belt with the lightness of a summer breeze, and Jinriki continued on, gleefully tossing the pouch into the air and catching it again. He knew without a backward glance that the noble had vanished into the crowds, leaving him to his spoils. His joy turned out to be short-lived, however, when he heard a familiar human voice behind him.

‘How is it, master snike, that those claws of yours never snag?’

Jinriki sighed deeply, turning to face the speaker. He was mounted upon a carrier – the human name for the insect-like reptiles they had enslaved as a means of citywide transportation. The snike felt sure that if their mind-control devices could influence his race as well, he would have been put to work in some factory or dank cellar long ago.

‘I would report you,’ the lawman continued, ‘if you didn’t keep me so entertained on the slow days.’

The snike scowled. ‘You report Jinriki anyway, if he not such a good grass. You only keep him where you can use him.’ He spoke in laboured Estathalonian, his shrill voice heavily accented with the keening burr of his species.

Father Alex Valentine swung his leg over the carrier’s saddle and slid down from its back. The butt of a windcannon peeked from beneath the folds of his crimson greatcoat as he dropped to the ground, and he moved a hand to his right hip, steadying the longsword that was sheathed upon it. His tri-cornered hat he left clipped to the pommel of his saddle. A second carrier touched down behind Valentine; mounted upon it was his sergeant, Ben Redorick.

Valentine reached up and slipped off the ivory headband he wore, letting it drop to hang from the chain affixed to the collar of his tan shirt. The carrier settled down instantly and Jinriki found himself staring up at the repulsive creature. Large and bottle blue, the carrier was like a hybrid of dragonfly and reptile; its cross-boned wings were leathery and thin, but the skin of its hide was scaled and tough. A mask was secured upon the beast’s long face, blinding it and hiding its ugliness.

Wild, untamed carriers – known as whunts – were fiercely territorial, but once broken and trained they became docile, performing only as commanded via the empathic link enabled by the headbands. Jinriki found the practice deplorable, but he had to concede that the carriers did offer swift and safe transport around the city, at least for those who could afford to rent or buy one. The humans saw them as yet another gift of the Allarei’s golden age, and they were one of but a few such “gifts” that remained as the Weakness slowly worsened.

‘So, master snike,’ Valentine said, cutting into Jinriki’s thoughts, ‘what have you been up to in my absence?’

Jinriki kept his voice as steady as he could manage. ‘This and that.’

‘Ah, I see. A cut purse here, a cut throat there – something like that?’

‘Something like that…’

Valentine moved closer until he was effectively towering over Jinriki. ‘Well, I’ve heard tell that you’ve been a very busy bee, Jinriki. Very, very busy.’ He half-turned towards his sergeant but kept his eyes fixed upon the snike. ‘What did we hear, Sergeant?’

‘Bad things, Father.’

Valentine tutted emphatically, shaking his head. ‘Bad things,’ he echoed slowly.