Oh thank god FFN is finally letting me upload chapters again. It was either the website or my computer (neither would surprise me). I still can't upload images, which sucks. Anyways! Have the first chapter from the Summoner's series of events!
Timewise: This goes after chapter four (the one where the Dolorosa was hurt) and before chapter 8.
Disclaimer: Andrew Hussie owns Homestuck.
Word count: 3,744
The gang of Nabbers waited patiently in the space underneath the wharfs. They muttered amongst themselves occasionally, but otherwise remained completely still, silent and watchful. They could hear the bustle above, as ships were loaded and unloaded. They could hear the cry of birds and the shouts of angry trolls chasing strangers away from their goods. The Nabbers exchanged bored glances. Nobody ever came below the wharf unless they didn't want to be seen by the general public. A perfect spot for Nabbers.
There were Nabbers throughout all of Alternia, although few were successful. They were trolls who had lost their hives or their lusii or were deformed or alien in some way, and should have been culled. In an effort to preserve their own lives, they banded together to bring down other trolls who were also running from the law. This particular gang, however, was very successful. Because their headquarters were beneath the wharf, they often caught stowaways, which were normally yellowbloods, and worth lots of money.
They heard movement, and all six Nabbers immediately turned all of their attention towards the noise. A troll was under the wharfs. Feral grins lit up their faces. Without the slightest signal, all six melted into the darkness, silently surrounding the unsuspecting troll.
Sielva was one of the Nabbers. She was the only female, and, as a greenblood, the highest on the hemospectrum of her particular gang. She caught sight of the troll under the wharf and examined them. Female, older than herself. She was crouched down to avoid the low ceiling, and she had a prosthetic arm. Interesting. She also wore an eye patch. From her attire and her weapon, she was very obviously a seafarer. She didn't have fins, and the only colors in her clothes were blue and black.
Sielva grinned and drew her shiv. Having spent sweeps down here with her fellow Nabbers, she knew instinctively when to attack. As one, and as viciously as sharks, the Nabbers descended upon the blueblood.
The blueblood fought back, although she was at the disadvantage. Her sword was more of a liability than a weapon in such a cramped space, and she was outnumbered and surrounded. None of them uttered anything louder than a grunt; anything louder, and those above them would hear. Nobody wanted that. Sielva was briefly confused when Tunyre and Jiklie started fighting against their own gang, although she took them out without the slightest hesitation.
Finally, somebody managed to get a lucky hit in and knock out the blueblood. "Finally," she breathed, winded from the short fight.
Her remaining three companions nodded, each nursing various injuries. Jiklie had managed to give the blueblood a rather deep cut on her forearm before he'd gone insane and Sielva had had to kill him. Sielva sighed tiredly. "What happened to Jiklie and Tunyre?" she demanded, glaring at the bodies of those that had once been her allies.
The short rustblood was doubled over, gasping for breath. He managed, "We—Nabbed—a—blueblood. Some—of—'em—have—mind—control. Flip—'er—over. See—oo—it—is."
Sielva, having recovered the fastest, knelt and flipped over their victim so that they could see her face. She recognized her immediately, of course, and gasped in surprise. Cackling, she hissed, "This is our lucky day, boys." All of their eyes moved from her face to the small blue symbol embroidered into her shoulder.
"Oh my god," gasped the rustblood.
Sielva grinned widely. "If it isn't Mindfang herself."
As quickly as possible, they smuggled her unconscious form outside, dumping the bodies of their allies on the street where they could have been mugged for food. They were careful to keep Mindfang unconscious, because she was known for being able to control other trolls. Of course, the once infamous pirate was now little more than an urban legend, having vanished for sweeps after her supposed execution.
Sielva knew exactly how much money Mindfang was worth, and she was going to waste no time turning her in.
The group of Nabbers approached a bend in the road. They were sitting in a carriage, Mindfang tied up and covered with a tarp at their feet. Sielva was napping, the rustblood had the reigns, and the other two talked in low tones. None of them were expecting the attack.
It came just as swiftly as theirs had been mere days before. Half-wild trolls swung down from the trees with blades and sharp tools. Beasts of all sorts followed in their wake, howling and snarling. Sielva awoke immediately and spun into battle. For one, terrifying second, she realized that the lead troll had wings. Shocked and awe-stricken, she was taken off guard when he attacked her, his vibrant wings adding speed to his attack. Within mere minutes, all four Nabbers had been tied up and left in the middle of the road. The winged troll let out a wordless roar and snatched Mindfang. His group let out feral cries in return, and they vanished into the trees just as subtly as they'd come.
Sielva let out a yell of anger, furious at the loss of her prize and at her humiliation.
The Summoner flew away from the Nabbers, mildly confused. Nabbers rarely took only one victim, because one troll was hardly going to save a group of trolls from being culled. He had been expecting to rescue at least three trolls.
The Summoner landed in the clearing he had set up beforehand as a rendezvous point for his gang. They regularly rescued fugitives from the Nabbers, because they were very rarely actual criminals and quite often trolls who merely needed a second chance. Those trolls turned into very loyal allies for the revolution, or at the very least contacts for information in other places.
He gently laid the bundle that was the Nabbers' victim onto the grassy floor. His gang trickled in, excited and talkative after the successful raid. He grinned at their enthusiasm. "Kaiare!"
His closest friend bounded up to him, clearly excited. She was a bronzeblood like him, although more friendly. "Don't worry, we killed them pretty quickly," she assured him. She knew he didn't like to prolong the deaths of fellow lowbloods.
The victim stirred and Kaiare hissed, "You didn't untie them?!"
"I just got there," he retorted. His company retreated to a safe distance as their leader began undoing the knots that surrounded the unconscious troll. Multiple times, they'd rescued Nabber victims only to discover very angry psionics as soon as they pulled away the tarp.
He hissed in anger when he saw the blood that stained the inside of the tarp. It was cerluean, so a fairly high midblood. Certainly not the highest on the hemospectrum that had joined the revolution, but it was up there. As he pulled away the last of the ropes, he found himself staring into the angry eye of a female troll with long hair, although it was tangled and matted. She had one normal eye, although the other was hidden behind an eye patch. There was a gash on her right forearm and the side of her abdomen, the latter bleeding sluggishly.
"Calm down," the Summoner said as soothingly as he could, "We're here to help you." He spread his wings, letting her know that she was not with friends of the government.
Her eyes widened and she dragged herself away from him, clearly shocked. Cerulean blood splattered onto the ground. She stared at his wings and then at his face, her intense cerulean eye drilling into his bronze ones. He smiled at her, trying to calm her.
Her breathing began to speed up and she held one arm in front of her body as if to protect herself.
"It's okay," he promised, "I'm the Summoner."
Her eyes traced his wings again, and his company relaxed now that it was clear she wasn't going to violently attack anybody. Shocked, the cerlueanblood breathed, "Rufioh. . . !"
The Summoner stiffened. Not even Kaiare knew his real name. He withdrew his hand, and his wings fluttered shut. "Who are you?" he demanded. He could sense his company's stares on him, and he swallowed hard.
She struggled to sit up, although she was still bleeding copiously. Good thing highbloods could withstand a lot of damage. A hint of haughtiness crept in to her otherwise shaky voice. "Mindfang. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang."
The Summoner felt his mouth suddenly dry. Oh, God. I just rescued a gamblignant.
Kaiare finally snapped him back into action. She knelt by Mindfang and said, "Ok. Nice to meet you, Marquise. We're going to need to bring you back to our hideout to heal you."
Mindfang was clearly struggling to stay conscious. She nodded, eyes glazing over. The Summoner shook himself and nodded at his friend. "Alright. You guys, start heading back to camp. I'll fly her over; it's faster."
Kaiare nodded and started ordering the other five around. The Summoner trusted her to do the right thing and cautiously picked up Mindfang. She was tense in his arms, although she still hadn't said anything after introducing herself. Slightly disconcerted, the Summoner flapped his wings and took to the air.
The flight to camp wasn't long, although Mindfang finally succumbed and fell limp in his arms halfway there. Her cerulean blood was sticky on his arm, and he could feel some of it trickling down his leg. Well, that was definitely going to stain.
Just as he was dipping down to land at their camp, he decided to fly to the rebellion's headquarters instead. Their camp didn't have enough supplies. He used his communion skills to send a message to Kaiare via a bird, and flew as quickly as possible.
He didn't think twice about bringing an ex-pirate into headquarters; she was hurt, and she needed his help.
Mindfang healed extraordinarily quickly, as bluebloods tended to, and took to wandering around the treetop village that the rebellion considered its headquarters. She took to the trees very well, considering that she'd lived over water for the majority of her life. She spent the majority of the time wearing a loose pair of breeches and an unbuttoned blouse, bandages encircling her abdomen. Multiple times, they found her half-unconscious from blood loss. She repeatedly went without wearing her bandages despite the doctors' constant assurances that she still needed them. She leapt from branch to branch without thinking about the distance and fell several times.
Kaiare was sick of it. Now that they were back at headquarters, the Summoner was busy doing all sorts of important things, leaving her to attend to Mindfang. Mindfang was a sort of cross between a patient and a prisoner; they aided her as best they could, but they also kept information from her and took great cares to keep her within headquarters.
Needless to say, the ceruleanblood had noticed. Kaiare spent the majority of her time running around after Mindfang. While she'd been fairly silent the days after they rescued her, now she had proved to have a tongue sharper than a whip. She snapped at everybody and insulted them as well. She flirted coyly with the occasional troll, but mostly spent her time stealing things and pulling off dangerous stunts, both of which kept aggravating the injuries she refused to let heal completely.
Now, Kaiare stormed past the guards stationed in front of the Summoner's treehive. She was furious. Bursting into his room, the female troll exploded, "She needs to leave!"
The Summoner, sitting in his nest of leaves and reading, looked up. At her expression, he knew immediately that now wasn't the time to joke around. "Mindfang?"
Kaiare nodded. "Yes," she said, "Who else?"
The Summoner tucked a sliver of ribbon into the book to mark his place and set it aside. "What has she done this time?"
"You mean besides stealing our supplies and leaving them at the tops of trees? Besides breaking bridges and walkways and costing us a fortune in medical supplies?" Kaiare seethed.
The Summoner held up his hands placatingly, but she knew him well enough to see the mischievous gleam behind his eyes.
She groaned. "Don't tell me you're enjoying having her here?!" When he chuckled, she added, "Rufioh."
The Summoner froze, his smile vanishing. "Don't—" he began, voice pained.
But Kaiare was done. She had already spent a week babysitting Mindfang and managing the affairs of those the ex-pirate had wronged. She crossed her arms and snapped, "You could have at least given me the decency of knowing your name, Summoner. Or perhaps I was too lowly? Perhaps you'd rather only beings such as Marquise Spinneret Mindfang know your name? How did she even know your name anyways?!" Her frustration was leaking out, and she knew she shouldn't lash out at the Summoner, but she'd been keeping it all in and now it was finally bursting out. "Summoner, I've trusted you! I've helped you lead your rebellion this far! I've respected you, and I've never asked for your name since the first time I asked! I'd always assumed you had a good reason, but no, it just happens to be something that somebody as discreet as Mindfang knows!"
The Summoner retorted, "I don't even know how she knows!" He was standing now, his wings quivering. He was clearly upset, but Kaiare was sick of pretending she didn't care.
"Of course," she said sarcastically, "Of course. Just one more secret that stupid old Kaiare doesn't need to know!"
The Summoner shook his head, distressed. "No, Kaiare, you don't understand."
She crossed her arms, resolute. "You're supposed to be our leader. How can we trust you if we don't even know your name?"
The Summoner closed his eyes briefly and then opened them. Kaiare calmed, meeting those pained bronze orbs. Slowly, the Summoner breathed, "I promise you, Kaiare, I've never met Mindfang before. I've never even dreamed I'd ever meet her. I've only heard of her. Hell, I've heard the same tales you've been hearing! But I swear on my life: I never would've told her my name in a thousand sweeps." He looked at her beseechingly.
Kaiare narrowed her eyes. "Then how does she know it?"
The Summoner shrugged listlessly, brows drawn together. "I was going to ask her tomorrow."
"Don't," Kaiare said immediately, "Trying to get a straight answer out of her is harder than it was getting the gang to believe you weren't crazy when you started this whole rebellion."
The Summoner winced, remembering that argument. "Ah." He hesitantly added, "Do you really think I should tell them my name?"
Kaiare nodded without waiting even a second. "Positive." At his panicked expression, she added, "I don't know why you're so sensitive about it."
His wings shifted uneasily and he said, "I . . . can't talk about it." Her face fell and he looked down, his face turning brown with shame.
Kaiare pursed her lips but didn't protest. Everybody here had their own demons. She wouldn't be the one to force him to relive his. Instead, she said, "Fine. But tell us all your name, alright?" He nodded and she added gently, "Rufioh, huh?"
He nodded, meeting her eyes. Once again, their was a sparkle in his eyes. He held out his hand, and she stared at it, confused. He said, grinning that lopsided grin of his, "Hello. My name is Rufioh Nitram. Nice to meet you."
Kaiare felt her lips spread into a wide smile. Taking his hand and shaking it, she replied "Kaiare Nettle. The pleasure is all mine."
His eyes were glowing just like they always did, and it made her smile to see that. She hated to see him distressed. And when he ran his fingers through his red and black hair, she was reminded of just how much a nuisance her flushed feelings for him were. She waved and left, inwardly sighing. The stupid red crush that she'd been dealing with ever since he'd first admitted that he had a crazy idea about starting a rebellion still reused to go away.
Ruther, a rubyblood who had been with the Summoner the day that they'd found Mindfang, stood guard outside the Summoner's treehive. The Summoner insisted that he didn't need guards and that he could take care of himself, but, frankly, he was too important to risk.
The compromise was that there would only be one guard, and the guard would be one of the six trolls that were part of the Summoner's unofficial inner circle, more commonly referred to as simply "the gang": Kaiare, Ruther, Phoryn, Bevvet, Winnia, and Sidnur.
Ruther sighed and fingered the hilt of his battle-axe. He caught sight of a familiar figure wandering towards him. He swore in his head and immediately straightened. Mindfang.
She sauntered over, and he thanked whoever was listening that she'd actually buttoned her blouse today. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive (whoever said she wasn't was kidding themselves). It was just that it made him extremely uncomfortable. When she got to him, she ordered, "Let me in."
Ruther shook his head. "Unless you have written permission from the Summoner, I'm afraid you can't come in."
She pursed her lips. "I have every right to talk to him if I want to."
Ruther shook his head again. "No."
Her single visible eye narrowed. "Let. Me. In."
"No." Their eyes met, intense cerulean and wary ruby. A thought entered Ruther's mind. Perhaps it was a good idea to let her in. It wasn't like she was going to hurt the Summoner. Without even realizing he was doing it, he stepped aside and nodded. "Go ahead."
She smiled at him, revealing fangs not dissimilar to a rainbow drinker's, and swept past him. As soon as she was gone, Ruther staggered and held a hand to his think pan protector, which was suddenly pounding. What on Alternia had just happened?!
The Summoner looked up, startled, upon hearing somebody enter his room. The door slammed shut and he gaped. Mindfang was standing just in front of the door, arms folded under her chest. He vividly recalled his conversation with Kaiare yesterday.
Still, he smiled warmly. She was confident, he knew from the stories he heard around the camp, and terrifying. And yet, whenever she was around him, she had a strange air around her. She was still bitingly sarcastic, still defensive and arrogant. But there was something else. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
She smirked at him. "Hello."
The Summoner nodded at her and waved a hand, inviting her into the next room, the kitchen. She blinked, surprised, and followed him.
Snatching some pastries, he hurriedly set them onto a plate and then onto the table. Mindfang sat, cerulean eyes following him at he opened cupboards to find clean cups. "Tea?" he asked.
She replied, "No."
He nodded and immediately sat down. She was fingering a pastry, breaking off pieces and sticking them in her mouth. "What do you need?" he asked. He knew what the others thought of her, but he was determined to give her a chance.
Mindfang shrugged. "Nothing."
The Summoner narrowed his eyes. He had no idea how she'd managed to get in; his guards were even more strict than he was about letting trolls into his hive, and he most certainly wouldn't have let her in. "Actually, I'm glad you came," he began, "I have something to ask you."
She popped another piece of pastry into her mouth. "Ask away, Summoner."
He wondered why she didn't use his name when she obviously knew it. "Well. . . . I was wondering. . . ."
Mindfang wiped crumbs from the corners of her lips and looked expectantly at him. "Hurry up; we don't have all day."
The Summoner couldn't help it; he grinned. "If you insist, Mindfang."
Her eyebrows twitched together briefly, and then she muttered something he couldn't quite catch.
"Sorry?"
She looked up, glaring at him. "I said Aranea, alright?"
For a second, he was confused. And then his eyes widened. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang, the most infamous pirate to ever sail Alternian seas, had just told him her name. Willingly. And for seemingly no reason. "Oh." He hastily gathered his senses. He didn't know why he was so scatterbrained right now. "Aranea." She flinched almost imperceptibly and nodded. His grin returned. "It's a pretty name," he said warmly.
He was pleased when she smirked. "As if."
"Anyways, I was going to ask how you knew my name." His shrewd eyes zeroed in on her reaction. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. A coldness entered her cerulean eye, and her cheeks colored slightly.
She sniffed disdainfully. "That is something I can't tell you yet, Summoner."
Slightly frustrated, he protested, "But I've never met you before!" His brow furrowed, and he added, "Right?"
She nodded. "We've never met," she agreed.
"And practically nobody knows my real name," he added. Again she nodded.
"So how do you?"
"Believe me, Summoner, if I could tell you, I would." She stood up. "There are some things meant only for certain ears."
Mindfang could've easily controlled his mind to make him forget this moment. She could've easily made him freeze while she escaped. She could've made him think that she had answered. Or she could've simply lied. But she hadn't. He didn't understand why.
"Aranea," he said. She turned her head. "Please know that I cannot allow you to leave headquarters without knowing that you are trustworthy."
She flashed him a brilliant smile. "I know. But you know full well that only a fool would try to keep me caged." She left, without ceremony and without a goodbye.
The Summoner watched her go. Marquise Spinneret Mindfang — Aranea — was an enigma. He had no idea what her motives were, how she knew his name, or why she behaved as she did. And he would be damned if he didn't try and figure it out.
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