Beginning
"Blade?"
She turned, glancing at the other woman, a small smile moving over her lips, "Two whole winters and more have passed since we met. You're still calling me by my alias?"
Hammer shook her head, gesturing at the sword on her back, "Well, it's not as if I'm gunna forget, am I?"
"Well, how would you like it if I started referring to you as 'The Hero of Strength'?"
She shifted the giant war hammer on her shoulder, "Well. Kind of accurate in that case."
"Of course..."
Hammer smiled, but soon the expression faded. She hesitated. "So, did... did you convince them to wait for you?"
Blade kept walking down the hill to the docks. She didn't want to talk about this. Two summers hadn't yet passed since their marriage. But she loved him more than this entire world.
"So... you're going... where?"
"To the Spire."
The look on his face... when she had told him. Since their wedding she had bore him two children; a daughter, Rose Marie, little less than a year old, and a son, Mattie, only a few months. The thought of leaving them - so young, so innocent, so vulnerable - pushed daggers through her heart. But she had to. She had to end this.
"This is about Lucien, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Hannah was looking at her. A lock of her brown hair had fallen over her dark eyes. "Alright?"
She gave a small nod, "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."
The girl hesitated, and then seemed to get that she didn't want to talk about it. They kept walking, their pace unusually slow. Neither of them truly wanted to reach the dock. Both of them knew what would happen when they did.
Boy rubbed his cold, wet nose against the back of her hand. She glanced down at him and smiled, patting him behind the ear. Another of her faithful companions. At least he could be here now. She had refused to let the family come to Westcliff. It was a dark and bleak place. She would protect them with her life if she had to, and they would not step one foot here. This place, at least, she would not miss.
"When will you be back?"
"I don't know."
"Days? Months? Years?"
"I don't know."
Her foot hit sand. Jaina glanced down. Then she lifted her eyes back to the horizon again. There was one boat in the quay. It left at noon, in less than an hour. People were already piling on, passengers and crew, big, burly men loading on large boxes of supplies. She drew in a deep, slow breath. And then started walking towards it.
"Wait."
She turned back to her, both relieved and frustrated to have been stopped, "What."
Hammer paused, and then shook her head, "Do you know what the last thing I said to my father was."
A slight frown crossed Jaina's face. Hannah had not said one word about her father since... since Oakfield. It didn't seem... right that she was talking about him now. Not now, not here.
"I can't remember." She answered, quietly, "I can't remember whether I said goodbye that day. That's the thing about goodbyes. You never know if it's gunna be your last. I didn't -" she corrected, hastily, "I didn't mean it like that. You'll do great out there. I know you will. But..." she paused, thinking, then shook her head again, "Just hurry back."
She gave a small, soft smile, and nodded, gently, "I will. I'll be back before you know it."
"I want you to move on. I want... I want you... to find a new mother for our children."
"No."
"Please, Michael."
"No. I'll wait for you."
"Michael, I could be in that place for -"
"Jaina. I love you. I would wait... a hundred summers for you."
"And the children?"
"They will know of you. If not in the flesh, then by word. They will know of you."
"Thank you."
The shipmaster was coming towards them. She turned to him, gathering all of her strength. Oh Avo. This was it.
He looked down at her, calculating her, "So you're... 'Blade'."
'Blade' nodded, easily ignoring his eyes, "That's me."
He continued looking her up and down, somewhat grudgingly, "Right. Now. No personal effects allowed onboard, and no weapons... and no dogs."
Boy gave a low, soft whine. She ran her hand over his head, gently. She swore sometimes that he understood. He was far more intelligent than most humans she knew.
"Don't worry." Hannah offered, smiling, "I'll look after old fur-face here. And your stuff as well."
Jaina nodded, slowly. Then she pulled her pack off her shoulder, letting it down softly to the floor. She negotiated her crossbow off her back and then her sword. She looked at the blade for a moment, before reluctantly passing it to Hannah. That weapon was how she'd got her name. A Master Katana, a fine weapon in any case, but on top of that she'd given a bit of... special attention. In battle the blade heated like it was back under a blacksmith's iron, and the weapon fed her learning, making her next strike so much harder. When people had seen that in the Crucible the word spread. She was then 'Blade'.
She shrugged off her jacket, taking out the few blades hidden inside the fabric, and then reached down, unclipping a dagger from the inside of her shorts, sliding another one out of its place in her shoe. She reached to her back, yanking down a clockwork pistol from its place in the holster around her neck, placing down in the pile at her feet.
The shipmaster had raised an eyebrow, sceptical and incredulous, looking from her to the collection of deadly weapons. Hannah was just waiting. She'd seen her precautions before. Blade never liked to be without a blade.
Jaina pulled her hat off her head, and then dragged off the ballroom mask. Her brown hair fell down by her shoulders, and she glanced up at the man, expectantly, "Satisfactory?"
She didn't like the way his eyes moved across her pale skin. Manipulative. Almost like sick curiosity. The mask was a necessity in Albion. People recognised her wherever she went. Blade. The great Hero. Everyone knew her name. But, with a mask, she could simply take it off, change her clothes, and no-one knew who she was. She used this precaution for her family's sake. She didn't want anyone knowing her children were the offspring of a Hero. It was too dangerous.
"Yeah." He said, finally. He checked something on a small book he had in his hand, and then gestured to the ship with a rough jerk of his head, "On you go, then."
Jaina took a breath. She turned to Hammer and gave her a small smile, "See you soon."
"You better." She replied, firmly.
Boy lapped at her hand. She kneeled down to him, stroking his soft, silky fur, giving him a playful tap on the head. Then she got up, and walked onto the boat. The floor moved underneath her feet and she gritted her teeth. She could already tell it was going to be a long journey...
Things were a bit fuzzy after that. The journey had been long, a few weeks. She had crossed the border, onto the Spire. She met a few other Crucible champions there, and others, others who had been chosen as guards or workers. Bob. Bob was one.
They'd moved up the walkway. Someone had said something about... weird architecture. The noise. The feel. Old Kingdom engineering. Something about... the sky. The darkness.
And then there was Lucien. He stood before them. Before his people. He looked older. Older then that night. The night he'd called them to his castle, to his study. Whatever the Spire was doing it was doing to him, too. He looked... a wreck. He addressed them. Talked about the wonders of his machine. Talked about... something... She couldn't remember. Everything was so hazy. His words flickered in and out. Then... nothing.
Then all that was left was the Spire.
Blade lay on her side. She kept quiet. The guards weren't needed yet, not her section, anyway. She still had a few hours, she thought, before any of the others even awoke. She had never been much of a sleeper.
Her quill scratched on the page and she winced, freezing for a moment. No movement. No-one had heard. Thank God. If they found out she had this notebook... the punishments would be severe.
She continued the picture, gently sketching out the girl's hair. She was no artist. But it looked like it should. She didn't know how long she'd been in this place. She'd started the writings and drawings from the day she'd found the book, just lying around. She'd made a quill out of a bone, fashioned it, and for ink she used dirt, food... blood... anything. She needed the book. It had everything. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Hannah. It had their faces, drawn in, carefully, labelled. She'd started keeping a diary. She didn't know the turn of the days, but she wrote whenever she could. Because she had to keep her memories. The Commandant wouldn't take them from her. She wouldn't let him. She couldn't let him. They were all she had.
They were all she was.
