The full moon gawked at its reflection in the serene sea. Its dim light allowed one to see the pitching plains surrounding the ship. Michel, leaning on the crow's nest wall, sat down to play a game of solitaire. His eyes scanned over the rows for the next best play, yet his mind found it hard to focus on the cards. Since Vipa's departure, the assassin had been thinking of a cure to revoke the bonding hex. He had some general knowledge about sealing magic. Children learned magic - it was considered a life skill - throughout their school life.
Children separated themselves out into natural users and item users around the age of three. Whatever powers a natural user showed were then honed by specialized teachers throughout one school career. That's what Michel recalled from stories other people told him at the time. He, and the majority of people, learned how to use item magic. The level of difficulty one could achieve ranged from concentrating magic to start a device, to moving giant blocks to complete puzzles.
When it came to item users, one had to figure out the type of mana, the basic unit of magic, that worked best for them. Theories stated that item users could use any type of spell. This was only true with an already enchanted object. People working with pure magic had to know what type of natural mana matched with the mana found within their body. Trial and error, with a bit of textbook knowledge, told Michel that he had an affinity with plant magic. Although he long ago stopped practicing it due to lack of interest.
None of what he had learned informed him about the spell Vipa had bewitched him with.
"Oh," shouted a voice. "Where is this murderer you speak of?"
Michel started to stand, but felt a presence over his right shoulder. Keeping a neutral expression, he peered up at a pair of light pink eyes. Thin lips upon a heart-shaped face pulled back into a guiltless smile. The humanoid's canines were far longer than the average human's.
A vampire, noted Michel with slight annoyance. Why is the blood sucker pestering me? Shouldn't he be sleeping in a cave or something?
"Hey there. So you're the murderer that Vipa dragged onto my ship?" The vampire pulled a lock of blonde hair behind a pierced ear. His fingers fiddled with one of the three golden earrings. His feet were bare and the sleeveless blue shirt and black shorts scantily covered him. Both contrasted with his ashen-white skin.
"Let's get something straight," declared the vampire. "Do anything out of line and I will..." A pebble whacked the side of the vampire's head. He clenched the bump that was forming as he winced. "What the hell Sainh!" He threw a disgruntled look at the deck. "I'm trying to hold a conversation."
"Stop playing the tough guy," stated a feminine voice. "That assassin probably has more kills under his belt in the last month then you have in the last ten years. That's not counting the fish." Michel held back a chuckle. The vampire's indignant expression made his whole act tolerable.
Grumbled complaints slipped from the vampire as he leapt down from his post. Standing, the angel bowed to a humanoid reptile. Seated on the deck, she levitated pebbles above her clawed fingers. Michel assumed her to be skilled in earth magic. Her yellowed eyes watched the vampire storm over, while one of her fingers scratched her feathery, purple neck. Pale blue scales covered her front. A yellowed cloth covered her upper arms and chest, while a pair of shorts covered her lower section. The name of her species failed to form on Michel's lips. That either meant the reptile came from a foreign land or they were too few in numbers to be of any notice.
Stomping over to the reptile, the vampire tucked his fists into his pockets. "Look, Sainh, I'm making it clear to our prison-"
"Prisoner?" asked Michel warmly. Resting his arms on the crow's nest rim, the assassin offered a bittersweet smile. "Since when?"
"Ignore the captain." The reptile stepped in front of the stunned vampire. "He isn't thinking straight."
"And the captain is...?"
"Mr. Ozresbet to you," proclaimed Ozresbet. Thrusting a finger at the assassin, the vampire known as Ozresbet gave a haughty grin. "And while you're on my ship you obey me."
"Okay," droned Michel. He expanded a wing and picked at a few stray dust bunnies caught in them. "Does that mean I get paid?"
"Pardon?" The vampire's grin slipped into a perplexed frown.
Michel found Ozresbet obnoxious, but he should be able to manipulate him with ease. "I'm being dragged along and while I'm bonded to Vipa due to the damn moon"- both sailors flinched - "that does not mean I'm duty bound to protect you or this ship. So how much should I expect?" Stunned silence answered the assassin. Shaking his head, Michel grabbed his suitcase and fluttered down to the deck.
"I should also ask what I will be doing." Drawing a revolver from his jacket, the assassin pointed it in the direction of the sea. "I worked a fishing boat for a short span, but that was a hundred or so years ago."
Ozresbet opened his mouth with an accusing finger ready, yet the words failed to whip off his tongue. Swirling around, the captain marched over to an entrance that lead to his quarters. He grumbled something inaudible and slammed the door behind him. A banging noise soon followed, but Michel filed that fact away as unimportant.
"So, where are we going?" Michel asked the reptile.
Reclining onto the railing, Sainh shook her head in, what looked like, amusement. Michel tended to find reptile faces hard to read. The lack of facial muscles limited the number of expressions available to them. Her blinking eyes and flicking tongue seemed to convey some meaning.
"Didn't Vipa tell you?" countered Sainh.
"She did." Feathers ruffled as the angel flapped his wings. They needed to stretch after being closed for so long. "But I think she misunderstood me. Why would she want to go to Tragun? She does realize that it is a Nērānni vāṭini, right?"
"True." Sainh dropped one of her pebbles into her free hand. Her fingers pinched it and she studied its scarred surface. "So what did she tell you?"
"She's fishing for a rare fish that can only be found around Tragun." Michel clicked his tongue in disbelief. "Any fish that idiotic deserve to die."
The reptile chuckled as she flicked a finger. One of her stones shot forward and bounced off the ship's railing. Catching it with her magic, she threw it back to continue the game.
"Her lying hasn't gotten much better," stated Sainh. "Catch a fish and risk being killed by a Guilty One. Then again, knowing her..."
"The Guilty Ones." Michel closed his eyes. "Let's see now... that is a direct translation of Nērānni vāṭini into our tongue. If I remember my stories correctly, they are the five beings that crossed the gods."
Sainh blinked her agreement. "According to legend, they created a monster to substitute for the gods themselves, yet the monster wreaked havoc on the land. Druad himself, the leader of the Freudian set, came down and defeated the monster. To punish the Guilty Ones, he transformed the five into great beasts, each destined to terrify the world for all eternity."
The reptile dropped the rocks into her hand. "Of course, it is only legend. What I do know is that going near one of them is dangerous."
Images of a young woman and man drinking root beer flashed before Michel's mind's eye. They were expecting him to come home any day now. Suppressing a growl, he buried his fingernails into his palm enough for pain to respond, but to keep blood from wetting his hand.
"Where's a map?" demanded the assassin.
"In the cabin," replied the reptile.
"Get it for me. I need to determine how far we have to go."
With a nod, the reptile fetched the requested item. Upon returning she handed him a rolled-up scroll. Michel ripped it open and examined the many yams, potatoes, eggs, and tomatoes that represented the Barrol Islands Alliance, or Barrol Alliance shorthand. Comprised of thousands of various isles, the Alliance claimed the Ersa Sea as their domain. Colonized islands outlined the Molo continent to the north. To the east was the Strinda Ocean while sailing west meant dealing with Raakshas Deeps. Hundreds of miles in life condensed into inches upon paper.
Michel's finger started its journey on one side of the map. "We need to get here." The island he had chosen was home to a person of use. With his help, he could avoid... Lurking memories pounced upon his mind. He mentally cringed at visions of a burning ship.
"And we are here," declared the Sainh. Her tapping claw tore Michel from his nightmare. Picking at a feather, the assassin focused on an island. "That's a good day's travel in favorable conditions.
"We should stop there," stated a third voice. A black finger pointed to the island Michel marked out. Michel's heart rammed into his head as he whirled around to offer Vipa a frosty smile. How had the damn woman managed to sneak up on him? "Yes, that could work. Stop there, collect a few supplies, and set course for Tragun." Closing the map, she handed it the reptile.
"I'll set course." Sainh started for the steering wheel. "Vipa, show our guest to his sleeping quarters."
"Okay." Gripping Michel by the wrist, Vipa dragged him to a hatch in the ship. The angel barely had time to duck his head. "Lucky for you there are only four people and a cat on this ship. So there is plenty of space to sleep in."
If Vipa meant width and length, then she was right. Stacked crates, tied barrels, and stray items had been tucked into their own sections. This left a vast amount of room for walking about, yet the angel hunched over to keep his head from fighting with the roof. Creaks in the ship sympathized with his back.
"Sorry for the height," said the huntress. "When we built the ship, we didn't expect a species as tall as an angel to come along. Your kind seems to hate the tropics."
"I'm used to it." Being born and raised in the area helped, but Michel kept that information to himself. "Though being human, you should be able to live anywhere, no?" Vipa shrugged that answer away. Traditionally, intelligent species' ranges began and ended where species warfare permitted. Centuries of cooperation, trade, and diplomacy broke down those barriers, but each species still had preferred environment zones to live in. Michel's own people tended to prefer mountain ranges or other places at high altitude.
The pair stopped in front of a couple of hammocks, set one above the other. Vipa plopped down on the bottom rack. "You can sleep right here. Something tells me if you climb up top you'll break your spine." Michel nodded his thanks as he knelt. While he placed his case under the bed, the huntress clambered into her bunk.
Michel stood and a soft, cloth object obscured his sight. Pulling it off, he discovered it to be a tube top.
"Vipa?" whined Michel. A soft sunset crept up his neck and to his cheeks.
"It's hot," stated the huntress. "And I've already got a pillow. Mind putting my clothes under the bed?" Michel spotted the shorts and underwear crumpled on the floor. Sighing, he kicked them under the hammock before laying down. Green canvas fabric separated him from the sight of Vipa. Michel thanked whatever divinity there may be for that.
Michel tried to trade the hot world for peaceful dreams. After several minutes of sweating, he shed his clothing down to his white boxers covered in hearts. Even then the heat held him hostage from sleep for a good half hour.
A light knock on the head drew Michel from dreamless slumber. His eyes opened to narrow slits. He mentally thanked the huntress for putting on her shirt first. Did she have to lean so close to his face?
"Out of bed!" exclaimed the huntress. "Or Nana the Glutton will gobble you up."
"Thanks for the warning," grumbled the angel, "but I killed Nana the last time she attacked." He doubted Nana would have attacked in the first place. A child's bedtime story; Nana was a creepy woman, carrying a large bag, who stole away kids too lazy to get out of bed.
Sticking her tongue out, the huntress reached under the bunk. She walked away with her shorts in hand. The angel groaned as he rolled into the pillow, yet the image of slim blue boxers half sliding up her rear stained his mind. At that moment, he remembered his own lack of attire.
Michel scrambled to retrieve his clothes. As he yanked his pants up, snickers stopped him from looping the belt into place. Fully dressed, Vipa pulled her weapons off the wall.
"Something funny?" Michel failed to suppress the blood swamping his face.
"You're a prude," declared the huntress.
"Forgive me for being conservative. What time is it?"
Vipa shrugged. "Sometime in the morning. I haven't checked the sun yet."
Collecting his suitcase, Michel rushed up the stairs. The soft glow of the birthing sun blinded him for a moment. He then spotted Ozresbet sprawled upon the steering wheel. Drool dripped from his lips as he snored.
Michael patted the vampire's back. A hum came from him, but he stayed asleep. Not that surprising. Being nocturnal creatures, vampires tended to wake early evening and go to sleep by late-morning. The angel shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from ill-treating the captain for yesterday's events. Rushing in from behind, Vipa smacked the vampire's ass. Michel stumbled back to avoid a collision between head and chin. Snapping up straight, the vampire slapped the flat of his palm into his chest.
"Ready for s-service, sir," slurred Ozresbet.
"Ozresbet," said Vipa, "it's only sunrise. Have you been drinking jungo to stay awake again?"
Planting a hand to his brow, the vampire offered a groggy smile. "Somebody needs to keep the ship clean." He then jabbed a finger at the nearest railing. "And Truffle has been keeping watch." A black cat, lying on the railing, was observing schools of fish leaping out of the water.
"Right." Michel's voice offered little confidence. "Anyhow, when will we arrive at...?" His finger plucked his pants pockets for the answer.
"Cuga Isle," said Vipa, "and the town is Seran."
"That's near the eastern region of Barrol Alliance. Thanks."
"We should be coming in with the tide." Ozresbet leaned to the right to gesture, but the sudden change of weight threw him off the wheel. The ground crunched into his nose. Pulling himself off the floor, the vampire pointed to the north. "So we should see it in about ten minutes or so."
"Want a snack before hitting land?" Vipa asked Michel. Scooping up the vampire, she hauled him onto a shoulder. "Either me or the captain can cook, but being this close to shore..."
"I'll be fine," stated Michel. The last thing he wanted was the crew's hospitality. He had had enough of that already.
"Cap?"
"A m-mango would be nice." The captain raised a single finger. "Put an umbrella in it as well."
"Of course." Nodding, the huntress carried the captain downstairs.
The assassin positioned himself in front of the stairs to block Vipa. "How long will we be in harbor?"
"At most a few hours." Vipa tilted her head to the south. "We stayed in the last town for a few days. We had planned on resupplying as well, but we held that off believing we'd be around longer." A coy smile graced her face. "Our stay was cut short thanks to a certain person."
"If it is possible, I would like to go into town," droned Michel. He denied any satisfaction Vipa could claim. "There's a friend of mine I need to talk to."
"Go ahead." Waving a hand at the sky, Vipa's smile only strengthened. "Just take care to return. The moon will know." With an equally acidic smile, the angel nodded. He flew up to the crow's nest and watched the horizon to ensure the moon's daily exit.
A bump broke the flatness of the horizon off the starboard side. Michel informed his captors about it and the ship changed course. Cuga was a good-sized island covered in purple and orange flora. For the first thirty minutes, the ship sailed parallel to the coast and then into an estuary. One of its streams had been widened and straightened to allow ships to pass. A square fort of stone guarded the entrance. Michel dropped behind the railing to avoid the soldiers' sight. He doubted that strangers would recognize his face, but today's telegram spread the news faster than the wind. No doubt people would learn of his capture and escape soon enough. Truffle the ship traveled up the stream for a half mile before being stopped by a net stretched across the river. A merman, dressed in clothing made from fish's hides, popped out of the water.
"Hello up there," shouted the merman. "Who's staying and paying?"
"The Truffle!" Pulling ten bronze coins from her pocket, Vipa did a quick count of cash. Strict taxes annoyed her, but at least they taxed everyone the same. She dropped the coins overboard and the merman caught them.
"Carry on." Under the water, the merman and a team of his kin pulled the net to the side.
Michel kept a close eye out for anyone paying him too much attention. Returning the angel of death to captivity would make a man wealthy. His hand caressed a revolver hidden in his jacket. Of course, Lady Luck, that fickle goddess of fate, might assist the fool hunting for his head.
The ship pulled into a wide canal with stone walls supporting the docks. Vipa searched for an area to land. Other ships anchored themselves in close formations. Careful not to run into the ships parallel to her, she pulled in between two larger vessels.
"You're free to go," shouted Vipa to the crow's nest. "Take care to return to the ship in a few hours. I'd rather not hunt you down."
"No worries," Michel shouted. I'll be long gone by then, he added as an afterthought.
The assassin's impatience prompted him to avoid foot traffic by taking to the air. He flew for the east side of town. Cramped buildings near the riverside started to spread out into the forested countryside. Trees, mostly broad leaves and of decent size, were neighbors with brick buildings that had low sloping roofs.
Landing on a dirt road, the assassin scanned the area. Based on the signs he could see it was the business district. Right where he needed to be. He stepped to the side to avoid being run over by a horse drawn wagon. A semi-naked parrot-humanoid driver cursed him.
Michel ignored the damnation of his mother in favor of scanning the signs. Near the end of the street he spotted a gray brick and stone building. A bloodied rag hanging off its post signaled it as the barbershop.
The assassin invited himself into the store. "Critil. We need to talk."