The Severaine

Chapter Ten The Cursed Blades-2

“Don't worry.” Acha smiled reassuringly. “We'll fix it, somehow.” She looked to Daniel for support, as she did so he looked to her briefly to nod before returning his focus to the floor. He looked puzzled, as if there was something he couldn't quite make sense of.

“We've done stranger,” he answered almost automatically. Acha glanced in the direction of the corner where his vision seemed fixed. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but from his posture alone it was clear something was bothering him. She had no doubt that whatever he thought he was seeing was brought about by his fatigue. He hadn't slept now since Collateral, despite his obvious attempts to conceal this from them. He even went as far as to lie in bed, or in his blanket. But the smell of coffee beans from him was unmistakable. It was a smell almost potent enough to wake them up, let alone the person eating them. It wasn't only the beans, he had become jittery, paranoid. His actions were causing more harm than good.

He needed to sleep and soon, even if she had to take methods to ensure it. He was no good to them like this. He was going to get himself hurt, or worse. If only he would talk to them, confide in them about what was happening, then at least they could support him and shoulder some of his burden.

“Sounds like a trip t'the Mountain of the Spirits,” Eiji announced as he finally found something to say which could not cause offence to anyone, especially the bounty hunter who still towered behind him. He had expected a more favourable reaction, but it seemed they were too busy looking into the corner for some reason.

“Why's that?” Daniel finally tore his vision from the shadow. Whatever it was, it wasn't moving, it was clearly content to just stay hidden within its surroundings. It did not seem to mean them any harm, for the moment at least. He focused his blurring gaze upon Eiji. They had stood within the splendour of the Mountain of the Spirits once before, and it was in this place his actions had sealed Zo's fate. The mountain they had visited back then had been one fixed within Darrienia and had been the resting place of the final rune, the rune of spirit. He wondered what this world's Mountain of the Spirits also had to offer.

“Gnomes,” Eiji and Chrissie revealed in unison after a long silence had descended.

“Gnomes?” Daniel rubbed his eyes to ward off the tiredness, questioning if they had really just said what he thought they had. There had been no documented sightings of such creatures for a long time. None in his lifetime. Surely if they still hid within the world he would have come across their more recent tales.

“Yes, my master said all kinds of elemental creatures lived in the mountains. The gnomes work deep in the mountains core. They could restore this for us, I'm sure of it.” Eiji felt himself startle as Ashley heaved a giant sigh of relief, it sounded almost like a gale-force wind ripping through a mountain valley.

“I am glad I didn't destroy your chances.” He glanced towards the room where his wife and children slept before he finally moved from behind Eiji to take a seat. He smiled to himself as he noticed the young man's posture relax slightly.

“Theron,” Eiji pondered suddenly as the tension of having the enormous man towering over him vanished. “I've heard of y', y' were an amazin' hunter, caught the worst of the worst, bandit leaders would tremble at the mere mention of y' name. There was none who could best y', so why'd y' retire?” He closed his eyes as he heard the question leave his lips. He had been doing so well, he knew hunters did not retire because they wanted to. A long silence descended, the weight heavy on Eiji's shoulders as he wished he could take it back, open his mouth and swallow the words so they had never come into being, but such a feat was impossible.

“Marise Shi.” As Ashley spoke these words the tension in the room doubled, and despite his early mental chastising Eiji once again spoke without pause for thought.

“Y' didn't wish t'face her?” Eiji questioned uncertainly. He cringed, if his earlier question had not caused offence then surely questioning this man's courage would. He shrank a little further in his chair.

“Not that. I've faced her once… I was given a choice, to continue my path and die, or choose my family and live. When offered with such a thing there really is no consideration. My family has always come first, they were the reason I started hunting in the first place. Oh, but that was a night I will never forget, the height of my career, and its end.” Ashley leaned back on the chair, making himself comfortable to tell the story of his encounter with death…

…Dragons had been rumoured a myth, a thing of fairytale told to young children as they sat huddled in bed against the cold winter's night. But as with all tales there was a thread of truth woven within, evidence which confirmed that these creatures had indeed once terrorised the skies as Kadmos Rosu's fables had claimed. The most renowned of this proof was the dragon scale he was rumoured to have seized. The fables were penned by his own hand, but the bards still sung of his deeds, and people from all walks of life, having heard tales of these monsters, would flock in their hundreds to see this treasure of old as its owner allowed it to travel the world.

It was a rare thing of beauty. Steeped in power and history, and such a thing catches the eye of many. A collector would pay handsomely for such a treasure, even if it resulted in the scale never again being seen by the human eye. But all attempts thus far had been foiled. The most recent warning, however, carried with it a more prominent threat. A new thief had marked it as their next target, and they would not rest until it was theirs.

No one knew the origin of this danger, but with the scale due to move it was a threat which could not be ignored. The Hunters' Plexus was contacted as the whispers reached the museum, and preparations were fashioned to ensure the scale could complete its next journey through Knightsbridge, and to the port beyond, unhindered.

Knightsbridge was a city filled with weaving streets and forgotten trade, surrounded by a dense and deadly marsh. Not a living soul had ever tracked a safe passage through on foot, but that was not to say such a feat was impossible. The rumours told of the marsh's changing nature, paths deemed safe one week were lost the next, and thus few, if any attempted to cross.

Days before the scale was prepared to make its journey, in the midnight hours, lantern light had been witnessed plotting a course. The small groups of hunters, skilled in traversing terrain, placed markers across the land. But such an act could not be undertaken without notice, and those keeping close vigil needed only to bide their time.

When the day came for the scale to be moved elite guards and hunters surrounded the stagecoach. It was a show of power which would deter even the bravest of thief or treasure hunter. Of course, should the thief be skilled, and come to learn of the hushed conversations exchanged through shadows, they could come to learn the truth. They could have sat silently, listening to the plans being forged, and no one would ever have cause to suspect them.

A person such as this would learn the stagecoach was to be a decoy and within it nothing more than a farmer's harvest whilst, unguarded, the real target would pass through the marsh, having never seen a guard during its entire journey. But within this bluff was another, one never shared and crafted only by the museum's proprietor and his daughter's most trusted friend, Ashley. The scale would have no guards, no escort, in fact there would be no scale. As the preparations were being made to move it the proprietor's own daughter had placed it in a draw string sack, covered it with clothes and travelling supplies, and left to return to her studies. She had passed through Knightsbridge, unwatched, unguarded, and carrying the most prized treasure the world had seen. Before anyone, even the thief, knew the scale had gone.

Ashley had sat within the stagecoach, which was directed towards the marsh. There was no light, with the exception of a small slot allowing him to see the silhouette of the driver against the blackened sky. The moon was barely visible through the cloud cover, but its natural light highlighted the white stone markers, almost setting the trail aglow. With every lurch Ashley readied himself to abandon the carriage, he knew of this marsh's lore too well to have complete faith in the charted course. But each time the carriage would continue its slow and steady route he would relax slightly. But then, despite their orders to remain in constant movement, the carriage stopped.

The horses whinnied and protested against the driver's commands to move on. They understood only their instinct. Regardless of what the white stones meant they knew to take another step was to be dragged down into the peat. The horses pushed backwards, and with little other choice the driver began to carefully steer them in the turning of the wagon, if they could not press onward there was no choice but to turn back. Ashley saw the driver slump, his commands silenced and the horses stilled awaiting their next command.

Ashley heard the almost silent footfall of the thief. If not for his training they would have blended seamlessly into the sounds of the night, not betraying their presence. Whoever stood outside was skilled, even their breath faded into the sounds of the area, lost by the cry of the nightlife as they sang their chorus. The only advantage he had at this moment was the element of surprise, he flung the door open.

“Marise Shi.” He stepped fearlessly from the carriage; the grass sprung beneath one foot whilst the other threatened to be sucked into the mud. He adjusted his footing quickly, effortlessly. His voice not betraying the surprise he felt in seeing the moonlit face of his adversary. “I knew this trap would attract some unsavoury characters, but I never thought you to be a petty thief. Regardless, with you in hand I can retire.” He smiled, running his hand through his short jet-black hair.

“You have not caught me yet.” The weight of her stare as she had absorbed his every detail was something he had not come to expect from his targets. Normally when faced with capture or defeat they opted to attack, but her restraint showed the signs of expert training, and what had he expected, a reputation such as hers was not earned without skill. She studied him well, and in that moment he could not help but wonder what she saw.

“You must not know, I am undefeated,” he expressed sternly. It was something he advised all those he faced in hope they would surrender and spare the bloodshed. He knew such words would not sway her actions; they both knew there was only one way this would end.

“As am I, but any in your role who still draw breath can often make such a claim.” Her right hand rested gently on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice as their cautious steps circled each other, gauging each other's abilities. Assessing each other's threat and style of fighting based on the clues only seen by warriors of skill and experience.