Secrets
By Lindsay R. Honosky
Chapter One: Bloodstone
Hello and thank you for reading my Fable fanfiction! I've been trying to get back into writing, and hopefully this story will be what drags me out of it (my writer's block). I don't own any of the characters, well, unless I make some OC's, and I'll warn you guys if there's any "naughty" scenes. Thank you so much for reading, and please review so I know to keep going!
Shot one, two, three...and the Banshee rose, her chance to finish the ghostly figure delayed, if only for a moment. It wailed that ear-shattering war cry as she spewed more of her demonic daughters after her. Sparrow shuddered, that familiar feeling of dread slowly creeping up her throat. The balls of light quickly disappeared into the ground, only to re-earth again in the shape of tiny little girls made of darkness and hate. She could feel her Judge's Steel vibrating in her hand, as if calling out for their blood. One came up by her side, and for a moment, however brief, she felt a painge of guilt. Then the tiny abomination stabbed her thigh, and she answered the blow with a shot to the head. Her fourth shot; she needed to remember how many rounds she had left.
The shadow child's sisters cried furiously at her, watching one of their own be destroyed by this very corporeal woman. Two split around Sparrow's side, trying to encircle her, while the third stayed on a frontal attack, helping her mother distract the Hero as the other two snaked their way closer. A gasping, unearthly voice began to croon, "You still hear Rose's death cry when you try to sleep at night, don't you?"
Sparrow hated Banshees.
Before she knew what she was doing a searing heat began to climb up her arms, and soon she felt the familiar sensation of Inferno trying to escape from her palms. Not yet, she thought, biting her tongue, wait 'til they're closer... The Banshee wailed again, the world growing foggier and her body growing weaker with each note. The children were almost on her now, their glowing red eyes staring at her hungrily. Almost there, the fire was visible now, the monsters growing wary, just a few more seconds...NOW!
Slamming a fist to the ground, she released her pent up Will and watched as the furious flames engulfed the shadow children. Their mother wailed, covered the emptiness that would have been her face, and sank low to the ground. Sparrow withdrew her pistol, aiming it for the creature's head. She had two shots left; they had to count. She pulled the hammer down, heard its familiar cock, and before she could fire the Banshee whispered, "Did you know that Rose didn't die right away from that shot? No, she watched you fall through that window, heard as your body thudded against the ground, and cried bitter tears before a final shot from Lucien ended her life."
"Shut up."
Bang!
The shot rang out, and as the fog disappated she could faintly hear its echo. However, even though the fog had disappeared, and its master along with it, Sparrow knew she would have to face it once again. There were always more Banshees to kill, always more bandits, trolls, hollow men; the fight never ended for her. Even after Lucien was long dead; the fight went on. Taking a deep breath, Sparrow holstered her weapon and headed back "home", relieved that she would finally get a decents day's pay.
As she trudged her way through the swamp, Sparrow couldn't help but think of the Snow Globe she'd bought off of Murgo all those years ago. To think that this was now Oakvale took her breath away, and the thought that she knew the person who caused its current state baffled her even more. She'd spent many a night wondering how anyone could be so selfish, then a rueful smile would cross her face as she remembered her choice in the Spire. Her choice to give that girl the seal, to spare her own youth and beauty...how had she justified that? To kill Lucien. It was all about killing Lucien, so she told herself it was a necessary evil. Now she wondered if it were just pure vanity. And her choice in the Spire, well, she was trying hard to make up for that, wasn't she? Jack was probably the most important person in her life, the only one who loved her for who she was, not what she had done. And Jack was a dog. Thereasa had told her that those who lost family to the Spire would have made the same choice she had, but she was a Hero; she was supposed to be above such selfishness. Hammer had said so herself, she remembered with a bitter taste in her mouth. And then she had gone, along with Garth, and that insufferable pirate Reaver. Why should she feel guilty for wanting her family back? After all, everyone else she knew had deserted her in one way or another, so why not wish for some happiness? Didn't she deserve it? Sparrow winced, not realising she had been clutching her fists so hard her nails began to dig into her palms.
Wraithmarsh always seemed to be growing every time she traveled through here. And perhaps it was, and would one day engulf more than half of Bloodstone. This should have worried her more, seeing since she lived their now, and having sold her other homes, it would be rather bothersome to find a new one. The darkness of the wood, the dank, sickening smell of the bog was almost unnoticeable to her now, what with all the bounty jobs that seemed to come out of this place. Oh how she wished she could just boarder off the road, but then no one would make it to Bloodstone, and the town would surely die without fresh blood every now-and-again. Not that she hadn't tried to find a more suitable way by boat, but many people couldn't pay for the voyage, and the sea was only slightly less dangerous as the road, so she had stopped in her campaign. Now she just simply ventured into the marsh whenever their were reports of a particularly bad Banshee, or a gigantic horde of Hollow Men, trying to make it safer, if only for a few days.
As she drew closer to where Oakvale once prospered, a chill ran down her spine as she realised she was passing the Shadow Court. The black, almost threatening building made her breath catch in her throat as it seemed to watch her walking down the road. Sparrow wondered sometimes if the reason why the three shadow figures were indeed merely shadows was due to her intervention inside the Snow globe. Then many more questions would pop into her mind, and she would get a headache, so she'd let her musings end there. She would sometimes wonder if she had seen the ghostly figure of Reaver inside that cursed Snow globe, wondering if she had seen him when he was, as he put it "weak" and "breakable". Imagining Reaver as "breakable" was almost as impossible as thinking he was "weak". As she glanced over to the Shadow Court one more time, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps he was still weak, seeing since he would probably never set his own two feet back inside that looming castle.
Sparrow began to ascend the hill that lead to the covered bridge; the only route out of Oakvale. That was where she'd left Jack, and that was where she found him. The dog sat up instantly, hopping on his feet to the left, then the right, so happy that his mistress had returned. A warm smile lit up her face as Sparrow leaned down to scratch behind his ears, "There's my good boy; did you miss me?"
He barked gaily, licking her face and wagging his tail. Of course he was happy to see her; he always was. She remembered how much he had cried when she ordered him to stay put, but she would never put Jack back in harm's way again. She wasn't strong enough to lose him like that again. If she could, she would leave him at the mansion, but the dog always seemed to find a way to follow her, so she had just given up trying. Jack rested her head on her thigh, sensing where she was wounded. Sparrow herself hadn't noticed it until now, but there was indeed a very deep gash in her thigh, and she cursed herself for not bringing any health potions. She stood, if a little shakily, and clapped her hands together, "Alright boy, let's go get paid!" He barked in reply, though there was concern lighting up in those big brown eyes. She patted his head soothingly, "I'll be fine, boy. Now let's hurry out of this marsh, unless you want me to smell like this forever."
The road leading into Bloodstone was still eerie, even frightening, but at least it was slightly more dry. Even though her boots were re-enforced with extra layers of leather, the water still sank in, making each step a comical squeak. It also made her easy to hear, should any bandits or slavers decide to surprise her; though she highly doubted they would. She was the famous hero, after all. Going through this way made her wonder what kind of buildings once stood here, between Oakvale and the coast. Thereasa had told her a story long ago about a bandit king known as Twinblade, who lived in very much the same place where his grave lay now. But bandits weren't able to build such structures as the stone walls who still remained stubbornly, even after centuries of corroding sea air wasting away their mortar and stone. Ivy climbed up around abandoned columns like a beggar reaching for food. Which, she figured, the ivy was trying to get as much sunlight as possible, so perhaps they were like hungry beggars.
Jack began to growl, and the familiar sound of wisps disappearing into the ground echoed all around her. She knew not which way they would come, only that they would, like always. She drew Judge's Steel, feeling slightly better that she had it in her hand, but she knew with her wound she would be at a disadvantage. Should she run? Or take her chances? She looked down at Jack, who was staring up at her as if to ask the same question. The sounds echoed again, and she decided they were indeed behind her. Biting her lip, Sparrow said, "Come on, boy. We can leave those for someone else." As she turned to leave she could faintly make out the glowing eyes of the shadow hordes, their anguished cries drifting across the fog as their feet dragged slowly in the mud.
She let out a sigh of relief as the great stone bridge came into view; she was getting closer. Of course, that would also mean going through the graveyard, which would mean another fight. This one was most definately unavoidable. Jack began to whine, his tail stuck firmly between his legs. She laughed a little to herself; you'd think the dog would be used to this place by now. She gave him a comforting pat, and for a moment he seemed to perk up, however as they drew closer to the graveyard she could see his hackles standing on end. Lights began to fall like snow as the wisps flew past their living bodies and dove into the ground. For a moment she wondered if it would be better just to pick off their heads with her pistol, then a Hollow Man formed behind her and her sword slashed into its ribcage, causing the corpse to explode into dust. Three more appeared to her left, and she quickly shot a few fireballs their way, watching as the hungry flare consumed dusty rags and papery skin. The faces of those who reanimated those bones floated upward, a hateful scorn forever plastered on their faces. Two more appeared, these were the Will users; they would be trouble. With her last bullet she took off the left one's head, hoping that would blind one of them, while the second began to slash wildly with it's two massive broadswords, coming closer by the second. She jumped to the side, her thigh wound screaming in protest as she righted herself, called upon her Will, and released a massive fireball at the Hollow Man, grateful that it was strong enough to take him down. Sparrow turned to look for the headless one, only to find Jack had ripped its legs out from under him, then continued to attack its arms, neck, and torso. Sparrow walked over slowly, feeling the hot blood running down her leg, and fired Inferno one more time, thankful that it was the last Hollow Man to fight...for now.
Jack seemed to calm down now, what with the dead ceasing to walk, and he barked playfully towards his mistress. Sparrow smiled, trying to ignore the pain and exhaustion that wracked her body. With a heavy sigh, she said, "Let's go home, boy."
The sea air was the first sign that they were close, the second was the distinct smell of people. Sparrow stood at the cliff's edge for a moment, admiring the majestic beauty of the sea. The sun was just now setting, painting the world in wonderfully calming reds and oranges, the sea a sparkling canvase of rubies and diamonds. Gulls flew above her, calling out to each other as they left the mainland for their tiny islands to the east. The sounds of the wind whispering around her ears, the gentleness of the waves crashing upon the shore, it was all so comforting that for a moment Sparrow wished she could linger here forever. Then Jack barked, waking her from her dream, and she realised he was hungry. Smiling, she pointed down the road, "Alright boy, you lead the way."
He bounded down the winding path, Bloodstone just around the corner, when Sparrow stopped suddenly. There was a new ship in the dock, and she meant that in both aspects. She had never seen this vessel before, and by the look of it, the seas hadn't either. The wood was still well polished, retaining its golden brown finish instead of looking an old, grimy green. Red and gold highlights accented the railing and windows, though the sails remained a pure white. A feeling of dread filled her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Why should she feel like this about some ship? It was probably some posh, stuck-up noble from Bowerstone looking to find some poor idiot who'd go look inside some dark and spooky cave for them. She had a sinking feeling that they would assume she would be said idiot. Sparrow shrugged; if they paid good enough maybe she just might.
Her boots clicked softly on the cobblestone streets, unnervingly noticable seeing since this was the time that most of the residents of Bloodstone were out drinking, among other things. In fact, the pure lack of people was starting to worry her, for not even the local whores stood at their usual "business" places. Scanning the Waterfront she found that the only ones out and about were the dockhands, and as she passed they muttered quiet whispers to themselves, pointing at her and shaking their heads. Curiousity gnawed at her like a bug-bite, but so did the wound in her thigh, and she turned left up the stairs to head for the mansion.
She felt herself feeling regretful for letting that guard go, then at least she'd have someone to tell her what was going on. Jack began to growl, sniffing the ground here and there as if trying to find a trail. This was a bad sign; he never did that unless there was something dangerous at the end of his search. Sparrow opened the gates to the mannor, her nerves taught and her mind exhausted. Whatever it was she'd make sure they'd get what they deserved for bothering her, especially when she had just come through the marsh.
The gravel walkway showed small signs that someone had recently walked up her porch. The prints were to big for a child or woman, so and they seemed to go this way and that, near the fountain and flower beds; well at least her intruder enjoyed such displays. She'd make sure they would enjoy her sword through their stomach too. As she took the first few steps, she made sure to duck underneath the window, just incase her intruder was watching from one. Of course, they probably would have already seen her by now if they had been watching, what with her entryway being the front gate. She kicked herself for being so stupid, but now wasn't the time to berate herself. She reached the deck, slowly reaching for the doorknob...It was locked.
A shot rang out through the night, and where one's head should have been to open the door was now a fist-sized hole. Smoke filed out of the opening, and Sparrow could faintly make out the sounds of an annoyed sigh. Then she heard the clicking of a hammer, followed closely by a familiar voice, "Good show, whoever you are. Not many are smart enough to avoid that little manuever."
"R-Reaver?" She couldn't hold the word back, and his reply was another shot, this one much lower and through the wall. It missed her ribcage by mere inches.
There was silence for a long time, Jack standing in the garden ready to attack, when Reaver called out, "I say, are you still alive out there? I'd be ever so cross if I'd missed you again."
What do I do? For a moment Sparrow panicked, to tired to think clearly. The sound of Jack barking woke her slightly, and she reached for her pistol. She wished she'd packed some extra bullets, but Reaver didn't know she was out, so did it really matter? Of course it matters, she mused, He's the Hero of Skill with a loaded gun, and I'm Sparrow with an empty toy.
Sparrow heard the door unlock.
As the door opened, she could barely make out the faint gold accents of Reaver's cloak through the holes in the door. As quickly as she could she slammed her foot into the bottom of the door, causing it to ram against Reaver like a hammer. He gave a startled cry, and she heard as he fumbled back into the house. Faster than she thought possible, Sparrow launched herself from the ground and entered the house, gun instantly aimed at Reaver's head. He recovered just in time to see the pistol aimed right between his eyes. His face was a portrait of utter shock and annoyance.
A grin was threatening to give her away, but Sparrow tried to keep her face grim, "Reaver, I wonder if that pretty face of yours would hold up against a bullet."
"I could ask the same of you, dear." He smirked, a face that would have probably charmed any other woman, which it most likely did.
Sparrow, however, knew him for what he was, "I would ask you why you're here, but thanks to that lovely letter you left, I can sort of get the idea."
"Ah yes, that," he paused for a moment, looking down at his knees, "do you mind, Sparrow dear, if I stood? I'd rather not get these trousers dirty, as they cost more than your life in gold." She clicked the hammer in place to answer him. He sighed deeply, "I see, well then, only one thing to do-!" Before she could react, Reaver kicked Sparrow's feet out from under her, causing her to yelp in surprise. Her gun clattered to the floor, to far away to reach, and her sword was strapped to her back, making it inaccessable. In an instant Reaver was on her, stradling her waste and pinning her arms down with one hand. A triumphant grin was glowing from his face, "Now now, Sparrow dear, you should know you can't best Reaver." He pointed to the gun that was now halfway across the room, "Especially with an empty pistol."
"Get off of me, you bastard!" Her thigh was burning terribly, and as she fought him her muscles cried out in protest.
A strange gleam entered those forest green eyes, "No, I think I like you like this, my dear. Perhaps I'll keep you like this for a while." Then he reached for his pistol, florishing it arrogantly, "Then again, I have business to attend to, and I can't have you living in my house now, can I?"
There was a loud growl from the doorway, and like lightening Jack was on him before Reaver knew what hit him. As quickly as she could, Sparrow stood, drew her blade, and knocked Reaver's Dragonstomper across the room. Jack was attacking his arm, keeping him low to the ground, when Sparrow brought down her blade...and stopped. Reaver sensed her hesitation, and looked up into her eyes, "Why the hesitation, girl? Haven't you the stomach to kill me?"
His answer was a blow to the head with the flat of her blade.
She heard him fall with a soft, "Oof!" and he lay there, unconscious. Jack had stopped attacking his arm now, though he looked tempted to go for his throat. Sparrow stopped him with a look, then she limped over to one of the chairs in the corner, falling into it with a deep sigh. What am I going to do now? She watched as Reaver's chest rose and fell; he would look almost as if he were sleeping were it not for the slight trickle of blood leaking from his forehead. She twirled a piece of shoulder-length brown hair, patting her foot on the ground. Outside the town seemed to be coming to life once more, probably since the shots had died down. Hopefully they would just assume that someone was dead, and they had no need to come and investigate. That was another thing she liked about Bloodstone; there were no guards. However, it would have been nice to have known who's ship that was, and even nicer to have some guards take Reaver to a prison or wherever they took "bad guys". The thought crossed her mind to just kill him and be done with it, but something held her back. She bit her lip, knowing the answer was because she wasn't a cold-blooded killer. If she killed him now, she would be no better than Reaver himself. Leaning forward on her sword, Sparrow asked no one in particular, "So then, what do I do with you?" Jack tilted his head, confused. She laughed tiredly, "Well, he's not going anywhere for a while, maybe I should take care of this leg, huh boy?"
Jack barked happily, following Sparrow as she climbed the stairs, occasionally lending her his head for support.