The first thing I did was seek out a safehouse, which was located at a small bakery technically owned by me, but ran by an old widow and her son that I'd found about a decade ago. Her village had been burned down as a result of a raider skirmish, probably one of few times that I'd ever hunted down human beings. There's something enraging about stumbling upon a burned, half-naked corpse of a girl barely old enough to hit puberty. I had gladly taken the Circle's punishment for seeking to spill human blood on that account.
Tephna wasn't happy to see me. She hadn't had many customers this morning just yet, so she easily saw me the moment I stepped through the door. Her normally stern, wrinkled old face lit up briefly upon my arrival, only to quickly melt away to outrage.
"Young lady!" she exclaimed. "I told you the next time you showed up half-dead on my doorstep, I'd kill you, myself!"
"Peace, Teph," I raised my hands, welcoming the warm rush of hair that was quick to pick at the icy daggers in my feet. "I've come for supplies."
"When's the last time you slept?"
"Last night."
"Ate?"
" . . . Also last night."
"What happened to your shoes? Your cloak?"
"I left them somewhere safe." Despite the gesture proven unnecessary, I'm somewhat glad I left those things behind at the mines. I would have been pissed if I'd lost my cloak made of schetten to the wayfolds. I only had three of them, and the supplier that made them was such a pain in the ass to find and deal with.
The look the elderly lady gave me showed me what she really thought of my decisions.
"Those aren't your clothes."
"Mam, let her be," called a male voice from the back. That'd be her son, Posh. "She does enough as it is."
Posh briefly emerged from the kitchen to give me a wave, his apron and dark hair covered in flour. He appeared fresh and alert, despite having been up since before dawn. I returned the wave. The young man was growing into himself rather nicely; he was about twelve when I found him and his mother. Now, he looked like he was on his way to being able to crack a rolling pin over someone's head.
"I just need to gather a few things." I paused. "Would you mind if I borrowed some money? I can have someone repay you later today."
I was well aware that I didn't have to ask. I was also well aware that Tephna and Posh working here helped keep my safehouse secret - even from the Circle, unless Bogdan told them. The least I could do was stay in their good graces.
Tephna snorted. "You're like a child," she grumbled behind her counter. "Only coming to me when you need something."
I smiled. "Perhaps one day I'll help you run this place."
Instead of her laughing like I thought she would, she went silent, eying me with something akin to sorrow. It was gone in almost an instant, but it was enough for me to bow my head and move to the kitchen, where a secret door was hidden behind a stack of flour and spells I'd have to activate.
Before I could disappear behind the billowing heat, Tephna's small, firm hand latched around my arm.
"Don't you dare die before me, girl," she warned.
I doubted I'd live another ten more years, but I forced myself to nod, anyway. Whether or not she believed me was a different matter altogether, but she released me after a few brief moments.
Ten minutes later, I was walking back outside, a wrapped bundle of clothing in my arms with a turned over sling on top, so that no one would be able to properly see what was in there. I also wore a satchel across my chest, a pair of fur-tucked boots, and had a coin pouch tied to my belt.
I'll wait to change out of everything else until I'm out of the city.
-.-.-
The gods seemed to enjoy playing with my life, seeing how far I could go before I simply dropped dead altogether. Sometimes, I wondered if Sohr, the Nevhian god of the underworld, told his servants to overlook me. Maybe I was just a walking corpse.
Because I'm days - weeks, at most - from being out of bonds, and everything keeps going wrong.
I stared at the old apothecary, at the boarded door with a giant red circle covered by a straight, vertical arrow that pointed down.
The Promise of Hoxus. Someone who worked here was tried for direct communication with the fallen god. By all means, he was supposed to be locked in an entirely different plane, unable to access the living or dead and meant to spend the rest of eternity in suffering - unless someone broke him out.
I doubted Bruu was the one being tried, but he'd be laying low for a while with this crude sign on his door - which meant no sundown for me.
"Fuck," I swore. No matter. I could make this work. I bit my lip. I still needed to find the farmer that gave me the contract. Maybe I could buy a beast that I could ride over to where the nymphtan was, shortening my travel.
I sighed. I knew there was a drink people used to help them get up in the mornings, but it was more expensive than it was worth, and it didn't do much for me, anyway. Suddenly, I thought of the small family that had sheltered me hours before, and the magic they knew to wield.
"Bad idea," I muttered, facing down the long road that'd eventually take me out of the city. If Bogdan was here, he'd certainly lop my head off for just thinking it. Orik missed waking me up in time this morning. I didn't think the ancient spirit would appreciate me trying that again - not after what he put himself through. Even if the bastard brought in someone else on this mess.
Adtro's Bells, like I needed anything else to worry about. Where was Bogdan, anyway? Was he able to retreat to Headquarters in time?
Shaking my head, I slumped my way down the paved road, ignoring the curious looks passerby tossed me. Already, musicians were starting to play their flutes and pipes on the corners. The chill winter air was not at all kind, but even with the solid-black mountains at their backs, Canden's people held firm to their joy and peace.
You could be that happy, you know.
I wasn't sure if that was my thought or not, but I certainly did not appreciate the underlying threat that made my skin crawl.
Time was ticking.
-.-.-
I found the farmhand that had hired me to begin with just outside of Canden's gates, pulling a cart up a small, barren field that led to his farm. He was tall and thin, his bony elbows and knees visibly from his clothing - as were the muscles in his upper back and shoulders. People often underestimated the strength of farmers. Aside from a trained sword, it was farmers that generally won bare-fisted fights among the people.
And this particular farmer was not happy to see me, either.
"You," he all but sneered once I appeared next to him. I nodded, unfazed. He just continuing pushing his cart. "What do you want?"
"Revise the contract," I said. He grunted.
"I got your notice. The nymph girl is dead."
"I need to add to it."
"You can't do that," he snapped, then paused. "Can you?"
"I'm a mercenary, Carn. Trust me, you'd rather add to it instead of giving me another contract."
I wasn't going to complete a contract that wouldn't count against my bond, but I could live with drawing one out if it meant keeping at least one promise.
Carn scoffed. "Why'd I have another contract drawn up?"
"Because the nymph was working for someone."
He finally stopped pushing his cart as we neared the fencing around his farm, gently setting it down before turning to face me.
"We hired you to take care of the problem."
"You hired me to kill a nymph stealing your crops and horses."
He glared at me, lip curled, right eye twitching. I leaned against the fence, angling my hip forward slightly so that my sword was in view. I still held my bundle, but that wouldn't stop me from acting if necessary.
"What do you know of a nymphtan, Carn?" I asked. He scowled.
"A what?"
"A nymphtan."
"Sounds like an insult."
I barked out a laugh.
"You could say that."
"You bloody sellsword, what is it?"
"A nightmare." Then, because that's technically inaccurate, I clarified. "Nymphs follow Alonswyn, their . . . god . . . of nature." Also somewhat inaccurate. They referred to their gods as 'immortals', which was slightly different than our standard gods. I wasn't about to break out a technological lesson with a cranky old farmer, though. "However, there's another god, named Tanryn. He is to them what Haxos is to us."
The farmer frowned, clearly not impressed. Me, however? It took every bit of me not to glance over my shoulder to see if any unfriendly gods were ready to smite me for saying their names.
"What does that have to do with this . . . ?" He paused, struggling to recall the creature I was trying to get him to pay me to kill. This bastard didn't even realize the risk I took trying to explain these things to him.
"I'm getting there. Nymphtans are followers to Tanryn. They draw on the life essence of others to fuel their immortality because their practices strip them of such. They'll die within a few years without a target."
"And why is this a problem-"
"Nymphtans practice a sect of blood magic that can turn a man's skin inside out. The one we're dealing with wants to watch Canden burn."
Carn paused, blinking up at me with a pair of confused, dull brown eyes. Then he laughed.
"Hah! Good luck to them, then. Everyone knows Canden's untouchable." He scoffed, moving to continue pushing his cart past the fence. "Damn mercenary. Why don't you go bug someone else." He only stopped to untie a pouch he held at his belt, tossing it over his shoulder. I barely managed to shove my bundle on one hand to catch it before it hit the ground.
Well, at least he paid.
I glared at his retreating back, wondering if it'd be worth it to explain further why this foul creature had been stealing horses. He may not be worried about Canden falling, but he was forgetting about his own livelihood. She could still wash these fields in blood before ever attempting a siege on Canden's gates.
I tried to warn him. If he dies, that's his own damn fault.
He wouldn't be the only one to die. As if on cue, I turned, ready to find the nearest stable master when a group of children ran past me, giggling and sprinting after a loose dog.
Maybe I could make the stable master see some sense.
~ 1873 Words ~