Ok, so this is my first fanfic. Please R&R.
I do not own any of Clive Barkers characters, or his setting. Though I do own my characters, and my plot.
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Chapter 1:
Wren sat in the stool at the bar, sipping her drink. The hood of her cloak was over her head, she did not want people to see her more than they needed to. They would recognize her instantly, and the government would be pleased if she had been caught. I have to do this she thought. She got up, paid her fine, and left. When she stepped out the door, she was greeted with an unfamiliar, but not unappreciated, sight; the chattering townspeople and markets set up in the streets of Babilonium, the Island of six p.m. She sighed and breathed in the smells that were mingled together- flowers, fish, plastic, and other sorts. She turned down a dark alley into the streets known as the "black market". The smells changed here. They were now the smells of flesh, secrecy, traders, revenge, Night in itself. There she purchased a nice array of metal lock picks, a crowbar, a small handsaw, a grappling hook, some silk rope, and a hammer. She stuffed them carefully in her side bag, careful that nothing poked out suspiciously. Then she turned the other way and walked over to the docks. She was greeted by a hundred or more ships, all bearing red paint. Here it goes. She thought.
She directed her footsteps over to a boat that looked almost like the other ones, except by a name painted in gold letters on the side of the boat. Tahe Nen Pioniat ida hey Isabella. The Pirates of the Isabella. It was a stolen ship, and she knew, because she had helped to steal it. She walked up the boards that were placed carelessly on top of two parallel wood planks, and onto the deck. She went up to the man that was standing at the head of the ship.
She knew she was free from the eyes of onlookers, so she removed her hood.
"I'm ready whenever you are captain." She said. The man, or mans as she should say, that she was speaking too were like no other. He had a pair of horns on his head, each with three or four heads on them. The John bothers. At the moment, she was speaking to the main head of the party, John Mischief. He knew exactly who she was, for she worked for him. And, being an outlaw like herself, he knew why she had come here- Babilonium had the best markets, no matter what you were looking for.
"So you're ready, then?" was his reply.
"Yea, she's ready. Ready to lose her life!" One of the Brothers shouted sarcastically. Wren just nodded. Mischief ran up to the wheel, and shouted "Time to go!" And with that the sails were let down and the anchor raised. With each second, the ship seemed to grow more confident in itself and then suddenly, the wind filled the sails, and carried it over the churning waves of the Sea of Isabella.
After a few hours, they could see the distant outline of the Pyramids of Xuxux at one in the morning. Mysterious things they were. Nobody was sure what lived in there, but they were sure there was something was there, just beyond the shadows.
Another few hours passed, and then they saw the red clouds of Gorgossium. There they also saw Iniquisit, and below, the plain, rock landscape. It was a torture device made real. Men from other islands were digging in the ground for the mud that would make Mater Motley's Stichlings real. Monsters roamed outside of the walls, keeping watch for any victim unlucky enough to fall into their claws. There was a cemetery, a place, although meant to be scary and full of unimaginable terror, seemed like a pinpoint to what lay ahead of Wren. Around the back, there was The Lord of Midnight's garden, if you could call it that. There were twisted flowers, they would cut your finger in two if you touched them, and ravens that pecked continuously at you, always aiming at your eyes. There was also a forest of gallows, and the dead bodies that were hung there sang when the wind blowed. The ravens that had pecked out the dying human's tongues had also gained their voices, and talked to passerby's.
She was here to prove something. Wren was to be the best thief on all the Islands. She secretly hoped to be better then the John Brothers themselves. But this would be her test of skill. She either accomplished it, or died trying. There was no in between. Her goal-to steal any items she found valuable. And the John's weren't just talking a spoon or an old book. They meant something that would make them rich. They would, of course give her 40, a reasonable price, considering that they were training her and she would be the only person in Abaratian history to be trained by the best of thieves.
"Here we are!" The Johns chorused. It sounded like a merry good-bye, even though Wren was about to enter the most heart stopping terror she knew. What if guards caught her? Or worse, Christopher Carrion himself!
"Thanks," She said. "Will you guys stay here, or are you going to go visit another place for awhile?"
"Ha! Wrong both times! We are going to hide out. Look for us by that patch of brush." John Swallow said. "Mischief, will you point for me?" John Mischief pointed, then came up to her, and with one hand, shook Wren's own, and with the other, put it on her shoulder. "And be careful." He said. With that, she put her hood back on and jumped off the side of the deck.
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Her hood clung to her red hair as she swam toward Gogossium. Even her clothes were sticking to her, making it harder to swim. Wren wished that they could have just taken a small row boat, but she knew that was pointless. This was the best way to get to the Thirteen Towers without being noticed. After she got inside-now that was a different matter.
She reached the shore, exhausted from her swim. It felt like she had swam for miles in only a few seconds, but she knew that it had only been half a mile, and that she had swam at an even pace, for a few minutes.
She started climbing the bank, glancing left and right every few minutes, unsure of where the monsters were, and the Prince himself. She shivered at the thought of seeing him face-to-face. When she approached the wall, she got out her grappling hook. She looked up. They had come the back way, and she was staring right up at the Twelfth Tower-where Carrion resided. She sighed.
It didn't take her long to throw the grappling hook up, make sure it was tight, and start climbing. Wren's heart pounded inside her chest, and she felt like she was committing suicide. This is suicide. Maybe the Lord of Midnight will be kind enough to spare me if I'm caught. Just don't look down. Don't be caught. These things keep going through her head as she went up, and up, and up. Then she reached a window. She put her fingers on the sill and looked cautiously in. There was no one inside the room.
She looked to see if there was a lock. For some reason it was on the outside. Surely they thought that one would be brave enough to climb all the way up there? She pulled out a lock pick from her bag, one hand on the rope, and proceeded to unlock the door. It took her hardly any time at all, she was learning to be the best thief in Abarat after all. Wren heard a faint click. This was her signal. She opened the window, oh so slowly, and then climbed in. She tumbled on the hard floors, making no noise. Then she picked herself up, grabbed her grappling hook, and moved through the room.
It was eerily dark and quiet. Wren felt as though there was a creature lurking just beyond every shadow, always right behind her, yet unmoving. She silently gasped at the thought that it was Carrion. No. It couldn't be! She turned around. No one was there. Suspicious, she lit a candle. Right behind where she would have been if she was walking, was no other, than the Prince of Midnight, ruler of his Twelfth Tower, Christopher Carrion himself.