Author notes: This story is rated PG13 for a reason.
Cursing is prevelant in this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you.
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Briar's POV:
When I landed on the docking bay for Nidra Island, my brain was still numb, and my fingers were clenched so tightly, they were pale from lack of blood.
The whole dock smelled of rotting fish and nose-curling spices. Looking around the wooden planks, I glanced back at the boat I had just come off of. It looked pitiful against the background of grand ships behind it, which stared down at the measly boat as if it were an oddity. The vessel I just came off of was just a bit bigger than a local fishing boat, swaying in the tiniest wave. I had ignored the incredible sea-sickness that washed through my stomach. I was so numb to everything, I hardly noticed pain.
In fact, I embraced pain now. It was one of the few emotions I had now.
I knew I only had money on me, hadn't bothered to pack bags. For some strange reason, I had several dinari in my pockets, and I packed quite a bit of money in my saddlebags. And, as I stood on the dock, sun beating on my head, I knew that the boat ride would cost me little, if anything at all.
A voice suddenly sounded behind me, "Whatcha gonna do now, sonny?"
Sighing, I shook my head before unclenching my hand and running it through my dirty hair. Sniffing the warm Nidran air, I turned to look at the person who owned the voice. "I could actually use a bath."
"Eh, you're tellin' me," the person said teasingly. "I hadda smell ya all the way here."
For the first time in a what felt like forever, I gave a weak grin. "Ah, shut-up, Noc. You ain't any better." I eyed the man on the small boat, who was standing crookedly, giving me a large smile. His teeth were yellow and crooked, but there was something so friendly about it, that you couldn't help but be somewhat cheerful in his presence. He wasn't a handsome man now, but he once had been, or at least from what I had heard, he once had been.
I don't remember what I had done for Noc. It must have been something large, because when I had asked him for a favor at the dock in Emelan, he didn't even hesitate when raising the anchor. I believe it had something to do with his lame leg; I believe I managed to save it from being completely amputated. Standing there, feeling the heat beat on my body, I couldn't remember. And, further more, I didn't really care at the moment.
Scratching my head roughly, I looked around the landscape. We were at the foot of a steep ravine, a sharp drop-off that lowered into the ocean. At the top of the cliff, I could hear the shouts of towns people, hear the bleating of animals, smell the smells of the marketplace. I had never been to Nidra Island, but I knew who I must look for. As always, I had connections, and they would never fail me.
At that moment, I was fed up with failure. I had failed myself. Failed Sandry.
Looking back up at Noc, I squinted against the sharp Nidran sun before asking, "Hey, Noc, you've been to Nidra Island before. Haven't you?"
The older man looked up, squinting also. "Sure 'ave, sonny."
I shook my head. Running my tongue over my teeth, I suddenly noticed how thirsty I was. Fortunately, on the way to Nidra Island, the weather had been good, and it had only taken us a day and half to reach the coast. I didn't eat or drink the entire time. Locking myself in the main hold, I had set about my plans, my contacts. My mind had been like a machine, turning and cranking mercilessly, not bothering to stop for anything. And now, I realized how much my body yearned for food. And water. And some kind of bath.
Swallowing thickly, I blinked at Noc. "Any idea where I can get a good bath?"
Laughing, Noc shook his head. "Goin' soft, eh? Goghta 'ave your baths?" I gave him a look, which he merely waved a hand at. "Next block, sonny. 'Er should be a place to wash up. Not the cleanist' place, but nevertheless, it got fresh water."
I glanced up the ravine and then at the flight of stairs to get to the top, where the sounds and smells were coming from. There must have been at least five hundred stairs. Raising an eyebrow, I groaned.
Noc heard my reaction and laughed. "I would get goin' now, if it was me," he remarked this while lowering the plank. Hobbling across it, he reached me, clamped a calloused hand on my shoulder before saying, low this time, "You just be careful, alrighty?"
Feeling something soften in my heart to the old man's touch, I pursed my lips. I needed to keep my bitterness. It was the only thing to live for. Nodding, I turned to Noc before asking stiffly, "How much do I owe you, Noc?"
He stared at me as if I asked him where babies came from. "Owe me?" Shaking his head defiantly, Noc clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Ya don't owe me a cent, sonny." I was about to object to this, but he raised a hand in interruption. "It's the least I can do since you saved me little one's and meself from the awful storm."
So that's what I had accomplished. I had saved Noc and his children from inevitable death. Smiling at the irony, I contemplated my plans for future days. Here I had saved three lives while I was off to destroy another.
Smiling a little more cheerfully, I stuck out a hand for Noc to shake. "Thanks a ton, Noc ol' buddy. I appreciate it." Noc took my hand before shaking it vigorously. Then, giving him a playful salute, I started walking towards the seemingly never-ending stairs.
My footsteps were heavy on the stone walk. The heat beat on my head. My eyes were set purposefully ahead. . .
"Hey, sonny!" Noc called out. I turned sharp on my heel and raised an questioning eyebrow. He gave me a suspicious stare, mixed with concern, before saying slowly, "You take care of yourself, ya hear? The Police 'ere are mighty tough; Don't ya be gettin' into trouble."
Blinking, I stared at him for a few mere seconds. Then, a small weak grin spread on my face. "Wouldn't dream of it, Noc," I replied, hoping I sounded somewhat convincing.
I'm sure I managed a small case for my innocence, for Noc gave me a smile, his teeth showing, before waving a teasing hand in my direction, "Ah, get outa here, boy." With that, he gave me a laugh.
Smiling crookedly, I offered a wave good-bye before turning on my heel,
glancing at the staircase before taking my first step up. By the
third step, I had forgotten to smile.
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I still had wet hair from my bath when I entered The Dishonest Lawyer Tavern, which was a large building by Tavern measures. The large building was completely white washed while large cotton cloths covered over the outside eating areas. It wasn't quite evening yet, but the hot afternoon sun hung low in the horizon and there was a opalescent color swimming on the clouds low in the sky.
I could hear the sound of stringed instruments coming from inside the tavern, slightly exotic and off tuned to my ear. I could hear people inside clapping, raising their voices to the music in a tongue I could barely make out. So, with slight hesitation and dark eyes, I slowly sat down on one of the chairs outside.
There was a few people outside with me, all of them looking like foreigners. A plump older man sat at the table adjacent next to me, obviously trying to get himself drunk. There was a liquor bottle sitting on the table and several shot glasses discarded sloppily. Leaning my head back for a better angle, I saw the old man close his eyes wearily, looking extremely tired before taking a quivering breath. He must of held it for a number of seconds, because when he finally exhaled, it sounded strikingly like a large beast. I squinted my eyes, waiting for him to breath again. After about a minute, he didn't breath. Blinking in surprise, I craned my head back further.
Was he. . . ?
A flash of something green and brown blurred by the side of my vision. Quickly, I averted my vision from the older man towards the colors that had just passed by me. Looking out in the streets, I saw that it was practically deserted except for a lone beggar and rather. . . scantily dressed female. And they both were not wearing green or brown.
Glancing around my surroundings, something eerie crept up my back, chilly and dark. I knew that feeling. Not only had I felt it back when I was young and on the streets, but I had felt it at the baths too. It had come when I was running a towel through my wet hair. I had felt it crawling up by back.
I was being followed.
Somebody spoke next to me, snapping me out of thoughts. Blinking in surprise, I turned quickly to look for the voice. Standing quite cockily was a young woman, about my age. She chewed lightly on piece of sugar cane, as I had noticed it was the style to do so in Nidra Island. Her skirts were purposely short and her long hair looked like it had been fried in the hot sun. But, nevertheless, she was quite beautiful. In an instant, I knew who she was. And nobody could forget her face, with her high cheekbones, coppery skin, and dangerously sharp eyes.
Aida. Daughter of the Former Thief Lord at Hajra.
Smiling crookedly at her, I started, "Howya doin' Aida?" The woman's eyes widened considerably and she looked at me in surprise. "How's life treatin'' ya?"
She looked at me closer, her clear eyes squinted in disbelief. I could smell the sweetness of the sugar cane radiating off of her. Reeling her head back, she started very slowly, "Roach? That you?"
Putting a finger to my lips, I made a shushing noise. "Not around here, Aida. Not that gods-blasted name."
She suddenly gave me a stare before planting a hand on her hips. "Don't play that dumb mage stuff with me, Roach. I know ya gotta new name or something." Then, with a slight smile, she gave me a playful punch in the arm. "But ya always gonna be Roach to me, boy."
I rolled my eyes, a small smile flipping up on my face. "I'm not really a boy anymore, either, Aida."
"Damn right you aren't," she said quickly before she gave me a sly look. Cocking her hip, she drawled mischievously, "So, Roach, ya got a girlfriend or something?" She chewed viciously on her sugar cane, her eyes glittering.
The smile on my face instantly disappeared. Suddenly, all the good memories of me and Aida sneaking fruit and purses, back when we were young and on the streets, washed away and was replaced by the thought of what I had to do. Why I was here on Nidra Island.
Frowning, I shook my head. "No, Aida, I don't have a girlfriend," then, with a little bit of bitterness, "or something." I averted my eyes up to her, saw something in her face change and the smile disintegrate. We both exchanged looks.
She knew what my look meant. Immediately, she shook her head before snapping quickly and quietly, "I'll gonna get my mother." Turning on her heel, she vanished inside the tavern, into the noise and bustle. A glass broke inside. A man cursed. And then a woman cursed.
I shook my head quietly to myself in slight disbelief. I knew that husky voice. Could recognize it from a mile away.
It was Fayola. Former Thief Lord of Hajra. Current owner of The Dishonest Lawyer Tavern in Nidra Island. . . along with an extra business on the side, of course.
The first thing I saw of her was the side, long and slender as always, but quick and nimble, able to break a man's bones in a matter of seconds. She was as tough as nails, as she needed to be. I could never forget the bruise she gave me from trying to steal an apple from Aida's loot. I couldn't sit for nearly a week.
Her voice suddenly rose and she pointed an accusing finger at an unknown person. "Ya better get the hell outa my tavern by the time I count to ten buster, or I'll call the goddamn police. Don't think for a second that I won't." Someone yelled back at her in the Nidran language. Then, reaching down in her throat, she managed to spit angrily at him. "When I come back, you dirty bastard, you're gonna regret it. Did you know you got three bones in your ear? Did ya know I could break them all? And every other goddamn bone in your body?" Another round of cursing before she threw her hands up, turning to me.
Seeing me, she smiled.
I managed a crooked smile back.
"Whatta ya doin' here, you son of a bitch?" She asked huskily, her voice obviously teasing. She folded her hands across her chest before she started to walk to the table I sat at.
She didn't remind me of the dangerous Thief Lord I used to know. That person was frightening, nimble, beautiful, magical in a sense. This woman here was still had a magical aura to her, but she looked somewhat tired, bleaker eyes and all. And even though she could still be considered extremely beautiful, she looked somewhat disturbingly. . . old.
"Whatcha staring at?" She asked of me before I blinked.
A weak grin spread across my face. "It's good to see ya again, Fayola."
The old woman snorted, but a large grin was on her face. Looking down in her lap, she opened a purse that was attached to the belt of her skirts. Pulling out a large stick of sugar cane, she slapped it in her mouth before chewing the end vigorously. Looking back up, she eyed me teasingly. "So, it's good to see me, eh?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
She shook her head, a smile on her face. "You're a goddamn liar, Roach." It was then that she stopped before adding, more slyly, "Or should I say. . .Briar, now."
An unexpected blush crept on my face. Swallowing thickly, I gave a mere shrug. "What? You hate it or something?"
Fayola took the sugar cane out of her mouth, appraising me with her sharp eyes. The same sharp eyes of Aida. "It ain't the name I gave you, Roach."
I looked off the side where the old man was sitting. Or rather, lying. A dribble of spit was now gathered at the corner of his mouth. Raising my upper lip, I answered Fayola, "That was a long time, Fayola. You ain't the Thief Lord anymore."
"Ha!" She shouted so loud that I nearly jumped in my chair. "What a goddamn shame for me," she deadpanned before continuing, "I resigned just in time for the new Thief Lord to be caught by the Police. He didn't even get to whistle a tune before they hung him."
My eyes snapped back up to her. Regarding her curiously, I raised an eyebrow. "You mean the old gang is no more?"
Her eyes glittered almost in anger before they calmed. "That's what I mean. The bags didn't like getting their lunch money stolen. They even got so pissed that they had four of my ol' boys killed for it. And instead of killing the girls, they just decided to violate them, get them pregnant, and then accuse them of being whores."
Her words took awhile to sink in, for I simply sat there, blinking blankly. From what I heard, my old gang was still going strong, a new Thief Lord, but nevertheless, still alive and healthy. Of course, these were from some of my less reliable contacts. Running a hesitant tongue over my teeth, I simply nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that Fayola."
She simply shrugged before chewing vigorously on her sugar cane. "It's over now," she stated casually before taking the sugar cane out of her mouth and coming closer to my face. "But, from what I understand, you need some help." Giving me a sly wink, she leaned in even closer, "Who you want to knock over?"
Staring measurably at her, the thoughts of a few days ago flooded through my head. The call, the jarring feeling, the piercing, my heart feeling like it was bleeding. The numbing. Looking her straight in the eye, I asked slowly and not-so-quietly, "Whatta ya know about the bags in this city?"
Fayola raised an eyebrow. "What kind of bag do you want? Stiffs, merchants, dedicates. . .?"
"Nobles. Stiffs."
Giving me an appraising stare, Fayola eased back in her chair, her sugar cane in between her fingers. "Nobles, eh? Well, what exactly do you want to know about them? There crawling Nidra, I'll tell you that much." She gave a small chuckle before sticking the sugar cane back in her mouth. With her mouth half open, she added, "All of them either stay in the ritzy hotels or the Embassy. . ."
"Embassy?" I asked before placing my hands on the table and folding them. "You got any records of the people that come in and out of there?"
Her sharp eyes glittered. "Watch 'em like hawks." Then, chewing slowly, she looked intensely at me. "What's going on, Roach? You wanna to knock over some Stiff?"
"Maybe," I said blankly, leaving her to guess, also to leave that question alone.
Fayola licked her lips before shrugging. "Always the stubborn one, you were." She laughed. "Well, I suppose it's good you've stuck to that. So, what exactly do you want to know about the stiffs? They ain't too much of an interesting subject."
I blinked. Interesting? How about fascinating. And I was too stupid to realize that.
"Know anything about Sandrilene fa Toren?" I asked, trying to act casual, but failing miserably. My eyes were darting everywhere except Fayola.
She saw this immediately and started to burst out into laughter. "What happened? Bitch cheat on you?" She asked this without intention to hurt, but as she said it, I felt anger rise warm in my cheeks.
"No. She didn't cheat on me," I remarked coldly. "And she isn't my girlfriend. And she ain't no bitch." I eyed her icily, feeling suddenly cheeky.
Her laughter was subsided by my stare, but a large smile on her face. "Yeah, I know about her." Then, with slyness, " Pretty little thing, she is." She laughed at my expression before continuing, "Anyway, she checked in about a week ago. Had several meetings with some dead beats, mostly about that law they're going to enact. . ."
I eyed her with sudden interest. "What law?"
She shrugged. "Don't know that full details, boy, but it's something about banning cults. Not just any cults, but the dangerous ones. Ya know, the one's that cut up human livers, fry them and then eat them?"
Raising my lip up, I stared at her. "No, not exactly. . ."
"Well," she interrupted, her mouth suddenly moving fast, "they're out there. She came with a Tris girl, merchant or something. . ."
Tris. Eyes opened wide, I suddenly remembered. How could I have forgotten? Cursing under my breath, I knew why. However, I was too involved in Fayola's speech to confront it. I listened, my eyebrows painfully scrunched together.
"Last my contacts saw her, she was in the marketplace. This happened three days ago." She stopped there, her eyes suddenly averting to her lap. Then, turning around, she yelled to someone in the Tavern. "Hey, Arlan, get me and the boy here two ales."
A scruffy young man came out of the tavern carrying two large overflowing pints of ales. Placing them messily on the table, Fayola waved him away before turning back to me. "Take a drink, Roach. You're goin' want more by the time I get finished."
Staring at her skeptically, I picked up my pint hesitantly before taking a large swig. Then, swallowing the cold, bitter ale, I asked slowly, "What's going on, Fayola?"
She looked suddenly very anxious. Sighing, she opened her mouth and said, "I don't like bein' the one with the bad news, boy, but she disappeared at the marketplace. Like magic, she's gone."
Taking another swig of my drink, I nodded. "I know, Fayola," I stated matter-of-factly before looking up from my drink and at her. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, her lips pursed together, her eyes glittering.
We stared at each other for quite awhile before she shook her head slowly. "You know she might be dead, this young woman?"
"She is dead."
Another nod. Sucking in a lungful of air, Fayola's husky grin was wiped from her face and this time, to my utmost surprise, there was an air of seriousness, professionalism about her. Not the kind I had seen on her in the streets, but a different kind. A very different kind.
She interrupted my thoughts. "I'm guessin' you want as much information as possible about who did her in?" I didn't respond, but she seemed to understand my silent answer. "all right then. Here ya go, boy: Sandrilene fa Toren is known throughout Nidra Island. Just say that her Uncle has financially helped some people get off the ground here. Duke Vedris is a goddamn idol for the people. He was supposed to come into town for a conference these two weeks, but his niece came instead. Many Dukes, Earls, Barons, stiffs in general, scheduled private meetings with Sandrilene. The meeting she was going to attend next was with a man named Earl Heold. Not a big deal you ask? Ah, but it is my boy." It was here she paused and switched her sugar cane to the other side of her mouth. "You see, he's involved with this cult called Blaze of Gabrielle. Don't know what the hell they're about, but they're one of the cults that were about to become illegal. I'm guessin' Earl Heold got pissed and made Sandrilene. . . disappear, if ya know what I mean."
I listened to all this nonchalant, my arms crossed stiffly across my chest. When Fayola had finished, I took a drink of the ale. "Where does this Earl live?"
"That's another problem. He disappeared the same day of Sandrilene. We can only guess he's with this cult of his."
I shook my head, thinking hard. So, if Fayola was telling the truth, which she was, I needed to track down the location of this cult. "Any idea where I might find this cult?"
Fayola shrugged before taking a drink too. "A few clues, but not much. A few records of witnesses say that they know where it is. Most of them are half-mad though. A few witnesses say that they saw the Lady Sandrilene round into a alleyway on the west side of the market before she disappeared."
I raised an eyebrow. "What about these people who claim they know where this cult is?"
"Ah, nothing much. Like I said, most of them are either crazy or senile. Speak in riddles and idiotic shit like that." Fayola was watching me with her hawk like eyes. "Whatcha plannin' on doing, Roach?"
Staring deeply into my ale, I watched as the light brown liquid swirled around the mug languidly. An aqua blue from the sunset reflected off of the ale, making me think. Think hard.
And for the first time in a while, feel hard.
Light brown hair, always done up in the braids. There was always that one piece of hair, though, that escaped the clutches of her nimble fingers. I'd always tease her about it too. Glittering eyes, a mix between lavender and blue. Something inside of me flamed, tearing away at the hardened bitterness in my heart. I smiled weakly, feeling the corner of my eyes burn with hot tears.
"Hey, Roach!" Fayola suddenly cut through my thoughts. Quickly, I looked up in surprise, managing to blink away my tears. Leaning back in her chair, she appraised my expression before offering, with a lop-sided smile, "Don't be gettin' yourself killed."
Managing a cocky grin, I shrugged. "I'll try not too." With that, I stood up before reaching deep inside my pockets. Pulling out a few coins, I jingled them on the table. "Thanks, Fayola. I can't tell ya how much you've done."
She shook her head before saying, "Good to see you, Roach. Can't say that a day doesn't go by that I don't think of the old gang. We were a bunch of little hell-raisers, weren't we?"
Simply nodding, I offered a chuckle. "Sure were, sure were." Then, sticking my hand out to her, I said, "See ya around?"
Fayola grinned toothily. "See ya around, Roach" She took my hand and shook it, not letting go, before adding, "Is she worth it?"
Looking up in surprise, I appraised Fayola. Something in her face was genuine, concerned. Time had taken it's toll on her once excruciating beautiful face. Wrinkles were in the place of dimples, leathery skin where a tan once used to be. But, nevertheless, I couldn't think of something more lovely right then than Fayola's truly honest face. Smiling crookedly, I shook my head. "Yeah. She is."
Withdrawing my hand, I suddenly realized that Fayola had place something in my hand while we shook hands. Blinking, I glanced down at my opened hand. Inside it looked like a necklace, with a long golden chain and a gold pendent which had some sort with rough engravings around the perimeter of it. Bringing it closer to my face, I managed to make out:
Behind the darkened hall,
with the eyes so bright,
There shall be a man's call,
and a garden shall be in sight.
Oh, down the lonesome stairs,
hurry, in case you loose will,
past the dead and their glares,
you will reach the Blaze Hill.
Reeling back, I squinted at the inscription. It made no sense. It couldn't mean anything. But, darkened hall? And Blaze? I could have sworn those words had come into Fayola's conversation. Perhaps a hint?
I quickly looked up, about to ask Fayola a question. However, when I stared up at where she once had been, she was gone. And the old man also, who had been in a drunken coma. I looked around the outside eating area, not seeing anyone.
Fayola was gone, slipped into the darkness. Shaking my head, I convinced myself that I should have thought just as much. So, with the engraving clenched into my hand, I walked out past the tavern, into the streets of Nidra. The west side of the market? I started my pace westward.
I had walked quite a ways when I felt that feeling again. It crept up on me like a stalking cat, chilly. Shivering against my will, I increased my pace. The feeling still followed me like a dog nipping at my heels. I rounded around a corner. It still followed.
Then, turning on my heel, I faced whatever was behind me. Eyes wide, staring like madman, I growled darkly, "Who's there?"
In front of me was a dark figure, built solidly but obviously feminine. They were standing in the shadows of a building so I couldn't quite make out their face. They were silent before they spoke, voice guttural, "Hello, Briar." It was then that they took a step foreword, into the light. Dark eyes, dark skin and a twisted smile greeted me.
I blinked in surprise. Then, with raised eyebrows, I managed to exclaim, "Daja?!"
Her smile increased bitterly. "You're not the only one who felt them die," She stated bitingly, but her voice was dangerously low. "Tris is gone too."
I swallowed thickly, still in half disbelief.
She blinked at me before sighing. "In case you're wondering, I've been following you all day. I was going to approach you at the baths, but you had a muderous look in you're eye." Taking a step closer, I could see a dangerous clint in her eye also. Then, with extreme casualty, she asked, "So, are you going to kill him? Earl Heold?"
Giving her a once-over, I said coldly, "Sure am. And then, after I kill him," I paused and, with a bit of twisted humor, "then you can go to work on him."
Daja laughed, but her laugh sounded hollow. It was then that I realized that she had felt it too. The emptiness, the pain, the splitting of your soul.
And then I realized that I still had Daja. I still had something, someone.
"So," Daja said, cutting into my thoughts, "why didn't you tell her?"
I stared at her. Shaking me head, I ran a shaky hand through my hair. "Let's go," I stated before walking heavily westward.
The first noise that greeted my ears was the click of Daja's staff. I smiled before I felt someone take my hand and squeeze it reassuringly.
Looking down at her, Daja's face was empathetic, her eyes brimming with tears. I managed a crooked grin before answering, "Don't know what we have until it they're gone, eh?"
Daja, eyes still watery, nodded before blinking tears away and stiffly adjusting her chin. A coldness came upon her, and immediately I knew what kind of aura I had been sending people these past few days.
And, with mutual understanding, we walked towards the west side of the
marketplace.
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Well, life's a bitch, ain't it? My life has taken some weird twists lately, so that's why this chapter a little late. I'm sorry. If you're confused with this story, feel free to e-mail me. I'll do my best to explain. Lady Sandrilene, I'm really sorry I haven't written you back lately. I will get around to it. It's just that I'm slightly depressed and stuff. But I shall live. Afterall, life is a gift. I think.
Anyways, who wants to review? PWEASE? It would cheer me up. I know you want to. Go right ahead, my jolly ol' fellow (or lady). The review button is looking rather lovely today, isn't it?