Demon-Killing Sword

1.1 Memory

The sword flew from her hand.

A worn thing, barely more than an inch of steel beyond the hilt, it clattered across the marble floor and smashed into a pillar. It bounced, then rattled slowly to a halt, marble floors slick against slick metal.

In the distance, a woman let out a wild war cry. Heavy thuds ricocheted off the vaulted ceiling. Metal clashed with metal, followed by a wet, soft sound. A breath, half exhale, half pain. Silence.

Footsteps approached, quiet but confident. A man lifted the sword from the ground. He stared down at the sword, the nub, the broken thing. Almost caressing it, he turned it over and slid his hand around the grip. His fingers settled into old grooves as though they'd never left.

Then he looked up, eyes flashing in the twilight.

"Destroy it."

--

Muninn crouched by the edge of the river. It crawled by, murky with sediment, down the low hill from the wall and past her into the city. Like so much else, it seemed ill, half-poisoned by the miasma. An oily sheen glistened atop it where scum didn't block the water from the sun. Beneath her, the mud glistened with that same oil, traced through with black and purple. She dug her fingers in deep and turned up two handfuls of mud. Clenching her fists, she felt through them. A snail shell, two beetles. Nothing.

The beetles hissed, threatening violence. An empty threat. The mud was too thick for them to bite through. She huffed and rinsed off her hands, setting the beetles free, then crawled over to a bundle of washed-up reeds. Maybe there'd be something deep in the tangle she could sell.

Her basket wore heavy on her shoulders, reed straps biting deep. Still, she didn't dare put it down. The other mudlarkers were nearby. No one else had found much today. Her leather boot and two sphinx claws would get snatched away in a second if she dared look away. It's not enough. A year ago, she might have called it a day, but no longer. To pay for the medicine, she'd need more than this.

A string among the reeds caught her eye. Fine twine, nearly invisible. She chased it down, eyes wide. Katarina had found a pearl necklace last week, but only half of it. Was this the other half?

Something glittered on the far end. Muninn tugged hard, and the twine burst free of the reeds. It swung before her, and she followed the glittering end eagerly. A pearl? The gold clasp of a pendant?

A fishing hook. Disappointed, she sighed, but flung it over her shoulder into the basket anyhow. Another quarter-penny, she calculated. If that. No. That was ungrateful. Every last quarter-penny counted. She shook her head at her own disappointment and slapped her cheeks. Mud flew from her hands and splattered over her face. Cold and foul-smelling, it focused her more than the slap had. Have to keep searching. If she wanted the medicine, she had no other option.

"Demon-girl, demon-girl, going mad already?" an unfortunately familiar voice singsonged. Muninn ignored him and crawled on, crabbing her way to the next spot.

A ball of mud splattered against the side of her face. Startled, she almost toppled from her squat. She threw her hand out and caught herself with a splurt in the soft mud at the river's edge, mud sucking her arm down to the elbow. It slurped as she yanked it free, and the boys laughed. "Look, look, with all that mud she's almost a mud crab already! Crab girl, demon crab!"

Muninn glared up at Bjarne, eyes squinted against the sun. He was tall and meaty for his age, a brainless lump of muscle that seemed to have no purpose besides eating and being a git. Didn't work for his dinner like she did; there wasn't a spot of mud on him. She wanted to kick him and run off, but his father was the master larker. He'd double his cut of her find if she so much as looked too hard at his pig of a son. Besides, Bjarne was bigger than her, and he'd brought minions. Today it was Jere and Reuben. She couldn't win against all three. Endure it, she told herself, and turned away again. He'd get bored and run off soon enough.

"Stupid demon." He shoved her. She staggered and braced herself in the mud. It slid under her feet, threatening to give out. The items in her basket rattled.

Jere, one of Bjarne's minions, grabbed ahold of her basket. "A boot?" he asked with a laugh.

She shook herself free and bared her teeth at him. "Go away," she snapped.

Bjarne raised his eyebrows, mock-scared. "Gonna bite me, demon girl?" He reached out to shove her again. Muninn flinched out of his reach.

Bjarne stumbled forward from his momentum. He stepped onto the soft mud. His foot slipped forward, sinking into the mud, and he plopped onto the riverbank. Mud splattered everywhere, splashing Muninn in the face. Bjarne's minions laughed. She made a face and wiped herself off. Clumsy.

With a wordless scream, Bjarne flung himself at her. Nails dug into her shoulders as he forced her into the mud. Startled, she fell backward before she could think to fight. "Don't laugh at me!" he growled. The basket flattened under her. Mud soaked into her back and shoulders.

"I wasn't laughing!" she snapped, and shoved him back. He grabbed the straps of her basket and slammed her deeper into the mud. Angrily, Muninn squirmed with all her might. The mud was slippery, and she was more used to maneuvering in it than Bjarne was. Like an eel, she slid away. The basket snagged on her armpits, tight in his grasp. She abandoned it and wriggled free. Cold mud clung to her arms and thickened in her hair. She rolled over and clawed her way to all fours. Digging her hands into the mud, she yanked herself away from them.

A foot on her shoulderblades pressed her down. Muninn floundered. Her hands plunged deeper into the soft mud. "Got her," Reuben announced gleefully.

Bjarne stomped over, each step sloshing mud over her. Muninn dug at the mud in a mad attempt to escape, but it was no use. Reuben leaned more weight on her and pressed her deeper. Her face dipped into the muck. For a second, she couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Panic bit into her heart as her lungs grew tight. She wriggled desperately through the mud, swimming toward the surface. Air! Air at last. She tried to take a breath and nearly swallowed mud. Her mouth was full of the stuff. She spat, coughed, then sucked a deep breath. Her lungs burned, aching for air, more air!

"Don't kill her," Jere muttered.

Bjarne spat. "Who cares? A demon mutt like her is going to go mad anyways."

He kneeled and reached out for something on her back. Afraid, Muninn squirmed. Reuben leaned more weight on her, threatening to push her deeper. As the mud pressed into her face, she stilled. His fingers scrabbled over her shirt, searching. Muninn's heart raced, a thousand beats a second. No. Don't find it. Don't.

His fingers coiled around her wing, the tiny, useless, stubby thing, and pulled.