Andreas
"We meet again little Reaper," a harsh chuckle sounds behind me, while the sharp edge of a blade makes contact with the back of my neck.
"Now go in slowly, I have business with both you and the owner of this hut."
With no other choice, I raise my unarmed hands and step into the cabin. Helplessly, I watch Tara's unusually pale face turn white as a sheet. The figure next to her frail form, stares in silent anger as Queen Ivena pushes me on through.
"Restrain him girls if you would be so kind," Ivena drawls, removing her blade in favor of watching my arms being wrenched behind me and forced to my knees on the unforgiving floor.
I feel the weight of the metal cuffs clamping my wrists, as the blue haired woman from last night bends down and tilts my head up with a single finger.
"Ah, I see you figured out how to conceal your powers," she says, examining me with meticulous intent.
"How did you do that I wonder?"
"Obviously the Ghost told him how Marishka," my other handler cuts in.
"But that would mean they'd have to get along."
The other woman from last night joins the other, looking me up and down like a prized horse. It is obvious they are related, with their shared soft features and dark brown eyes. Fascination shows in their depths, while those of the Queen flare with unnerving triumph.
"You have no business here Majesty," the masked individual seethes, leaping to their feet and heading straight for Ivena with violence evident on their face.
"That is where you are wrong Jace," Ivena replies, stopping the mage with the point of her slim sword.
"I came here for one thing and one thing only."
Turning her gaze away from Jace, her hawk-like eyes turn not to me, but a frightened Tara slowly sliding as far as she can to the other side of the couch. I watch this quick witted and sharp girl crumble into a shaking shell with fear in her emerald eyes. A fear that I know all too well. The knowledge that the trap you've run from for so long, will now close its lethal jaws around your soul. I can't let that happen, I have suffered such horrors and I will not be silent and let that happen to anyone else.
"Leave her alone you murderer," I breathe out, bringing the infernal pirate's gaze towards me.
"We have unfinished business, you and I."
"Oh really?" Ivena replies with a derisive chuckle, removing her sword from Jac's neck.
"If that is what you wish I will need to know who exactly I'm dealing with. But I wouldn't worry about the girl if I were you, I mean her no harm. However, you are another matter altogether."
I expected the blow, my head jerking back from the force of her slap. Only the harsh grips of her accomplices kept me from hitting the ground. What I did not expect was for her to yank the mask off my face, the strings snapping like weak kindling. Tenuous silence fills the cabin, accompanied only by the sound of leather connecting with the floorboards.
The disdain on the Queen's face shatters, replaced by shock that is worse than her menacing smile. Except, that does not compare to the horrified betrayal in Tara's eyes. Something breaks in me when I see the first of many tears drip down her cheeks.
"No, no!" She cries, scrambling off the couch with wobbly legs.
"You're not him, tell me you're not."
"It is best to answer boy," the Queen says, her voice empty of any spark of emotion.
"Or I shall dispense on you all the grief your father has dealt to me."
I can't answer, I can't. What can I say to this girl who I thought I barely knew. But fate has thrust us together these last few days and nights. Forcing me to dodge and parry her unintentioned attempts to distract me from my goal. My answer will destroy what has been forged between us, for that reason alone I don't give her one.
"Very well," Ivena growls, sheathing her sword and raising her hands that now shimmer with a copper haze.
"Hold him down, perhaps a lesson in manners will make this pretentious prince more reasonable."
Rough hands throw me onto my stomach, effectively pinning me down, unable to free myself. I close my eyes, preparing for the sting of magic that I shall feel down to my bones. Except, at the very moment that I watch her prepare to strike me, the blow does not come. Instead a sound of salvation breaks the air, a sound that I thought I would never hear.
"Stop!" Tara screeches, making me open my eyes to see her grab hold of Ivena's arm.
"Let him go take me instead, I'm the one you want. I'm the Ghost, the silver aura."
The ruthless Shifter Queen drops the control on her magic, the copper sparks disappearing as swiftly as they had come. Her face softens, taking in the wild eyed Tara grasping hold of her jacket sleeve. In that moment, my rage at this woman who played a part in my mother's death, dwindles to a shuddering flame as a tear escapes down her cheek.
"Girl you are much more than that," she whispers, making Tara scrunch her brows together in confusion.
"What is part of my body but on its own? A piece of my heart all alone. The greatest gift one could have, that gladly gives its love back."
Tara jerks away, shaking her head so much that her hair whips back and forth like shaking limbs. Disbelief and defiance paint her soft features, as she stares down this strange woman talking in riddles.
"You can't make me answer that," Tara seethes, backing up slowly until she returns to Jace's side.
"I won't answer that."
"But you do want this boy to be released, yes?" Ivena questions, as the women finally bring me back up to my feet.
Tara glances at me, her emotions evidently warring with the usual calm calculation that exudes from her. I hang my head in shame, wishing I could look away from her eyes, swollen and red with tears. How she must despise me, more so than my outburst at her in that dockside bar. I don't doubt that she is playing every encounter between us over and over again in her mind.
Every word, every action, every glance being picked over for the signs of our unknown feud. I wouldn't blame her if she chose to leave me to the mercy of the Queen. Especially, after all the threats I threw at her as the Hunter, an assassin without a care for the ones they capture. A tool to be used, a weapon to be feared, a man to be hated for what he has done to the lives of many.
"I do," Tara breathes out, her voice sounding far away and filled with stabbing grief.
"He is an unwilling pawn in all of this. So let him go, let him go or I will never give you your treasure."
"You are as silver tongued and aggravatingly astute as the rumors say," Ivena huffs, gripping her sword right in her grasp.
"But I will have what has been lost to me, or I shall have him thrown into the belly of my ship. Your choice dear little Starling, but I must know. Is that the only reason?"
Through hooded eyes I glance up at Tara. Expecting disdain or anger, even contempt to appear on her face from such a ridiculous question. However, what I see crumbles any walls that I thought I had secured around my heart. A warm sad smile lights up her eyes, regret shining in their depths.
"Tara," I say, pleading for her to not bind herself to such a fate.
"Forget about me, leave and don't look back. I'd rather be a prisoner so you can be free."
"No," she growls out, stepping away from the smuggler while staring me down with defiance etched into her face.
"I've put you through enough danger already."
No, no, no, no. In shock, I look toward Ivena and feel like my lungs are being squeezed by giant inhuman hands.
"How sweet," she says, boots thumping on the boards as she tilts Tara's head up with a single ringed finger.
"A trouble-making thief cares for the dark hearted prince. Now tell me little Sparrow, what is my treasure?"
After a handful of minutes of silence pass as we watch Tara scrunch her face in thought. Her mumbling the Queen's words, as if picking apart each phrase to find its meaning.
"Your child," Tara answers, her eyes glancing down to the floor.
"A child born from your body, a child that you loved since you first saw them. A child that loves you, despite all you have done. That is what your treasure is. Now let him go."
Tara breathes in a ragged breath, clenching her hands tighter so much that her knuckles turn white. Raising her eyes, she glares back at Ivena with defiance, fury, and sorrowful recognition.
"Let him go, Mother," she seethes, roughly backing away from the woman's reach.
"Prove to me that you are the same kind person that I now remember. Or be what people fear, be what they call you in stories and in legend. A cold blooded killer, without remorse and without love."
Silence, worse than in the bar last night, enters the empty space left by her remark. Without a word, the Pirate Queen waves her hand at my holders. Relief floods my body as the claps creak with release, and the manacles fall to the ground in a heap. How ironic for me to be clamped in irons twice, and still walk away from another cage. Abruptly, the moment I bring my hands in front of me, my savior plows past the pirates and escapes out the door in a flurry of leather and night black hair. I suck in a breath and follow, not questioning the pirates that don't try to drag us both back inside.
Through the forest I follow her, maneuvering my way around towering oaks, and hidden boulders covered with years of moss and ivy. Birds caw and screech overhead, disquieted from our bodies trampling through the woods with heaving footfalls and harsh breaths. Now and again, I think I've lost sight of her, only to then see a flash of brown or a lock of midnight hair disappear into the wild greenery. Before long though, I lose sight of her all together, leaving me to survey the towering trunks and wild brush for broken branches, a footprint, or maybe an obvious trail of her temporary existence.
For now, I pull in the fresh chill air, so unlike the heavy soot infested smog that covers the streets of Talvos. Curious, I take my gloves off and run a hand over the tall grass, the delicate vegetation that I have long since forgotten the feel of. For my days are spent training or spying, while my nights are consumed with hunting and the welcoming lull of slumber. The sound of stifled crying, breaks my reverie and I hurriedly quiet my breathing in order to trace the faint noise.
Behind a strand of low hanging branches, I see the glint of rushing water sparkling under the weak sun. With slow careful steps, I make my way under the branches and dark leaves. Stepping lightly and swift, till the riverbank comes into view filled with cattails and tall grass. Not far from the bank, I find her holding her knees to her chest and tucking her head in a failing attempt to block out the world. I go over to her, my cape brushing along the grass and my boots squeaking as I kneel down beside her.
"Tara," I whisper, keeping my hands on my knees to not spook her by accident.
"I know you don't want to hear anything from me, but you must know that I did not mean for it to end up this way. At first I did not care about the robberies, until it threatened the very lives of those close to me. Please understand, I had no choice but to follow through. My father will not rest until he gets what he wants, regardless of who he must kill."
I stop and wait for her to decide what to think of me now. With bated breath, I watch her quiet her weeping and bring her head up to glare at me as if I were a lowly rat.
"How long?" she asks, her eyes alight with a flame that wishes to turn my body to cinder.
"How long did you know I was the thief? How long were you going to play as the prince looking for trouble with your friends? How long was it going to be before you finally got what you wanted? So you could leave me rotting in a cell."
The rage I expected for her to dole out, finally comes to the surface with a power that strips me down to a worthless speck of existence.
"Tell me," she hisses, standing up and pushing me to the ground.
"What fancy worded lies do you have? What do you have to say that will sway me to forgive you? Was there any part of you that wasn't a deception? Was anything that happened even real?"
She stops her rant, quickly covering her mouth and looking down at me in shock. So, it seems we both question what has formed between us. Irritation? A connection only formed by the terms of a dangerous deal? Or has our adventures of the day shown a light on what we could be, if we were not rivals of the night? Have we indeed been fascinated by each other enough, that it could be so evident to even a stranger? An almost worrying thought, now that I know she could not bear the thought of me in the hands of a merciless queen told in stories by candle light. As much as I can't bear the thought of handing her over to my father, a dangerous choice that will spell disaster for us all.
"I have indeed lied," I answer, grunting as I stand up to face her.
"But I will never lie to you. I am a Reaper and I did indeed wish to capture the Ghost, but if I had known it was you I would never have put my sword to your skin. I don't know why I could possibly ask you to forgive me, for all that I've done as my father's blade. Yes I deceived you as much as you did me, but everything that happened was neither an illusion nor a lie. Unlike you, I'm not good at concealing my emotions or stealing people's property for that matter."
Tara snorts, quickly wiping her eyes and pretending to stare into the water, but I can tell how much she can't stop herself from glancing back at me.
"A pretty speech Reaper," she drawls, running a hand through her tangled hair.
"But not convincing enough."
She turns on her heel, making me stand by the bank like a fool. However, like a fool I grab her hand to keep her from going further. Her hand is soft but rough, smooth skin covered in calluses that have been earned by hours of practice with those knives of hers.
"Then what must I do?" I ask, my voice suddenly rough and almost desperate.
"What can I do to show you that I'm still the same man that helped you and your friend? The same one that trusted you enough not to sell him out, the same one who tried to get us both away from Ivena and her thugs."
Tara's body goes slack, as if the toll of finding out her origins and my betrayal, has turned her into a shell, an empty emotionless husk. Slowly she turns her head to face me, angry tears still making their way down her cheeks.
"Now where is the fun in that Reaper?" she sneers, jerking out of my grip and grabbing hold of my shirt.
"If I recall you're the same man who pinned me to a bookshelf with ice, and nearly slit my throat."
Venom takes root in her voice, stubborn potent venom that makes me chuckle in amusement.
Now I hear the shifter in her, the wild power and promise of trickery and bodily harm flaring in her eyes of emerald green. Gentle but firmly, I take my hands and cup her face, drawing her closer to mine. Our breaths mingling in the chill air, our hearts beating fast while our limbs grow tense with uncertainty. The memory of our unintended embrace comes to the forefront of my mind, sending the same heat and sparks from her hands down into my bones.
"Oh Tara," I whisper, as the wind blows fluttering my cape and her jacket, while the scent of salt and wet leaves permeates the woody air.
"What are you doing to me little Ghost?"
The anger in her eyes melts as my words reach into her ears, and her heart. Sorrow and regret fill them instead, sorrow for what we have done to each other, regret for not seeing it sooner. In her eyes, I see myself staring back with the same expression in my own gaze. One outlined by dark circles from little sleep, and the many new scratches I've received over these past couple days.
"The same thing you're doing to me, Reaper," Tara replies, wonder lighting up her face as if not believing what is happening before her.
"Confusing me, infuriating me, and hammering away at all of my defenses. I suppose it is only fair that we battle each other, our parents are enemies after all."
Thoughts turn to ash in my head, as this girl, this meddlesome thief, presses her lips to mine. This time, it is not rushed by fear, but slowly done with care and uncertainty. Embers of warmth spread through my skin and into my bones, somehow bringing back to life my soul that has been wreathed in shadows. I let a hand fall from her face, and slowly trail my fingers through her velvet soft hair. Marveling at the luminous strands of silver hidden by locks of midnight black. All too soon, she pulls away from my now boneless grip.
As if by coincidence, I catch her touching her lips just as I do mine. A smirk appears on her face, a now almost playful light glimmering in her eyes.
"Come on, we better get to a more hidden place than a mere forest," she says, quickly turning on a booted heel and disappearing back into the tangled branches and trunks.
I sigh and follow her lead, though I find it hard to keep up with her swift nimble legs. I stay with her, breathing hard as we come to a large group of boulders stacked between two towering trees. Annoyed at this obstacle, I grunt climbing up the rough stones while Tara watches with obvious amusement. Finally, we reach the other side and I'm relieved when my legs finally touch down on a clump of overgrown grass and wildflowers. Not far from where I stand, a stream of water trickles from underneath the boulders, merging into a waterfall that empties into a slow moving river beyond. One obscured by the thick line of trees, shrubs, and wild grass, as if constructed to hide the dilapidated dock and a single boat manned by a hooded figure.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask, following Tara down to the dock with growing unease at the boatman hidden beneath the folds of a coarse gray robe.
"Afraid assassin?" she teases, as the boards groan under our weight.
"No," I reply, eyeing the boatman warily as I follow her into the boat and settle myself down on the unforgiving bench.
"Just wondering if you're leading me into a trap."
For once she is silent, which makes me nervous as the boatman pushes away from the dock. I watch her intently as the boat travels down the river, waiting for her to say something, anything really to prepare me for where she is leading me to. The rest of our journey would have carried on like this, with the air so tense I could cut it with my sword, if not for the boatman almost scaring us so much that we nearly threw ourselves into the river.
"Foolish boy, if she wanted to spring a trap she would have done so by now," a familiar rasping voice sounds, emanating from the endless folds of ragged gray cloth.
We both jerk around and away from the figure, making the boat rock back and forth before the boatman jabs his pole into the water, stabilizing the wooden craft. With wide eyes and our backs pinned to the side of the boat, we watch him mutter a string of curses as he pulls back his hood in frustration. Familiar black swirls line the man's skin, his pale flesh drawn tight against the bones of his face. While twitching red rimmed eyes glare at us in irritation, eyes that glowed a sinister hue that sealed both our fates not so long ago.
"By the gods you two are a nervous lot, just like the group before you muttering about cursed metals and secrets," he adds with a huff, resuming his task and maneuvering the boat as we come to a fork in the river.
"Although, I did give you both a good scare yesterday. I would have excused my rudeness if not for that bumbling youth that Valco sent to keep an eye out for trouble in the city."
"What bumbling youth?" Tara questions, urgency filling her voice as the boat turns to the right and heads into the craggy maw of a small cave, covered in long strands of moss, flowers, and ivy.
"Who did Valco send-"
The boatman silences her with a finger to his lips, while using his pole to point upwards into the dark recesses of the cave. High above, bats nestle among the outcroppings, completely unaware of our presence and the sudden appearance of tree branches obscuring the entrance and plunging us into darkness. Adjusting my eyes to the gloom, I spot far in front of us a flash of purple light shining on the surface of the water. Gripping the side of the boat, I feel my heart quicken in my chest as we draw closer to the light that slowly grows with intensity.
The cave opens up into a massive cavern larger than my father's castle, with sparks of purple flame glittering high above. I stare in wonder at what I see, wooden buildings placed over the water, birds of every color flying overhead, and numerous boats tied beneath dozens of bridges, piers, and walkways. Not far away, the rocky impression of the lake shore holds the buildings formed out of gray slabs of rock. The boatman slows down just enough for him to open a wicker basket at his side, and toss me a hooded cloak of mud brown. I don't hesitate with this offered gift, swiftly I remove my Reaper cloak and replace it with the other.
"A wise decision young man," the old man says, continuing on our course and bringing us under a bridge filled with people in clothes and colors I've only ever read about in books.
Wary of eyes that may spot the interloper in their midst, I pull up the hood and take in the flood of images that no simple words can describe. Birds of every color and size fly overhead, parrots, eagles, and even ravens carrying what look to be wrapped parcels in their grasps. Bursts of flame and spouts of water, fly from the hands of performers on bridges that our boat glides smoothly under. The smell of exotic spices and flowers tickles my nose, while the distant sound of drums, bells, and pipes fills my ears with vibrant melodies and rhythms. Laughter can be heard, joyful sounds as if free from the worries of plotting kingdoms and armies.
The people here are both unique and strange, their clothes gaudy as the nobles and demure as the common folk. However, it is not only their garb that causes me to stare, but the fire of freedom and joy in their eyes that has me speechless. Glimmers of magic spark amongst the crowds of people with hair like the shade of macaw feathers, scars that shine with unearthly hues, and marks that show me things that I've only read about in books. I spy a man with what look to be green scales covering his head, a set of twins with pointed teeth and claw-like nails, and even an old woman with ram-like horns nestled in her locks of white hair.
As soon as our boat comes to a stop, I figure out where Tara has taken me. The place my father has longed to find, its name that comes to the front of my mind as I follow her up a rickety old ladder, that smells of long dead meat and rancid kelp. The haven for the undesirables of Valdev, a place older than the kingdom itself, and until a hundred years ago, was a place closed off and one where only mages were allowed inside.
That is, until the need for easy access to supplies and trade, forced themselves to align with the gangs of Talvos. A hidden site for blackmarket goods and criminal trading, a paradise for rouges, smugglers, and pirates alike. The Underground Market, where anything can be bought, sold, traded, and stolen, for a price. I pray the denizens of this hidden world will not object to another outcast, except I fear many of them would love to use a Reaper, for target practice.