Wednesday, March 11, 2015

TIME AWASH WITH BLOOD-- Chapter Seven


Therazine sat atop a bluff overlooking the sea. Her legs were curled up underneath her, feeling the wetness of the wooden bench. A single tree grew next to her. This tree was entirely devoid of leaves. It had been for as long as she could remember. One of the tree’s heavy branches stuck out before her, protruding into the open air. A tattered, ancient rope hung from its end.
Over the edge of the cliff and far below were thousands of ships. She watched absently as distant fishermen unloaded their hauls and carried them to the rows of canneries set amongst houses and oil refineries. Factory ships sat anchored amongst the bobbing waves beyond the rocky barrier that surrounded the harbor. She heard faint shouts from men and women working the docks, tolling bells from work ships, and the fog horns of vessels just coming in. The canneries that rested in the hills above the docks were the heart of this place, and men and women streamed in and out of them like flowing blood. The smell of gutted, rotting fish wafted up to her, mingling with the salty air coming off the sea and the ever present egg-like stench of Celedin’s rancid atmosphere.
The rain had lightened up, but it was still omnipresent. It was cold and soft, like the mist of a wave breaking. The sun had just set, and the world was descending into wet, thick darkness. She caught sight of a massive whaling ship emerging from the smog, its electric lights shining like the eyes of a great waterborne demon. The ship bellowed, a deep, throaty sound. In the growing darkness she couldn’t make out any of the ship’s features beyond its lights, and she could only imagine what monstrous beast it held in the chains that dragged behind it.
She thought of the creature in the ship’s tow, and where it came from. The seas beyond the city of Celedin were vast and mysterious. To say that they were uncharted was not entirely accurate. Explorers had been going further and further into the great Aizhur Sea for thousands of years. Each time they came back with reports of new islands or reefs, but they never found an end to it. She’d read of voyages that lasted for more than a year before they returned. The sailors never found new land. The sea stretched away from the city in every direction, and it never ended.
It was strange to her that human beings had poked holes in the Real to find other worlds to inhabit, and yet they still hadn’t even discovered the entirety of their home world. But she recognized the necessity of it. Celedin was a vast city, stretching across the Continent from one coast to the other, but it was full. Buildings can only stretch so high, and when you’ve covered even the mountains in stone and steel then it’s time you look for other places to build. Mankind sought to pierce the dark membrane of the Aether not to blissfully colonize, but to survive.
Therazine wondered how many people were in Celedin. In her youth she’d read at the orphanage that it numbered in the billions, but that was decades ago. She could scarcely imagine the amount of people dwelling in this world; and it was only one of nearly a dozen. There seemed to her nearly infinite people within the entirety of the Real, and nearly all of them lived under the banner of the Commonwealth.
And she was supposed to kill their Holy Emperor.
She looked up into the black sky and let the sour rain fall onto her lips. Where should she even begin with a task as monumental as this? She knew that the job Alyxandir Arkide wanted her to do was going to be daunting, but she hadn’t imagined it was this. A thousand questions raced around her skull. Why do Arkide’s people want the Emperor dead? Were they part of the rebellion the ticket taker had mentioned? Where does the Emperor reside? What sort of defenses does he have? What does he even look like?
She’d never seen the Emperor. She doubted few people ever had. As the rain caressed her skin, she let her mind drift to her childhood, to find any stray memories that would give her any indication of who her quarry might be. The other children at the orphanage only traded in fantasy. The Ivy Street merchants spoke only rumors. The Society cared not for the machinations of the government, and so she’d learned little in their care. All she could recall was what every citizen in the Real knew: the Emperor was an ancient hero, the Emperor was immortal, and the Emperor was holy.
Immortal. She hung on that word. Was there any truth to it? He was clearly deified by the populace, which could account for the use of such an audacious word. But it was commonly said, in all circles. No one questioned the Emperor’s ageless, undying state. She’d seen some bizarre things during her years with the Society. An immortal king who rules the universe wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility.
She almost laughed. How does one kill an immortal?
The whaling vessel droned again. She craned her neck to try and peer through the smog that surrounded it. Some part of her was desperate to see the slain leviathan. Perhaps laying eyes on the dead whale, a creature of unfathomable size and power, would spark the confidence within her that she needed. But the shroud did not lift. Only the ship’s piercing lights were visible. In any case, the whaling ship was undoubtably armed for its job. Harpoons, chains, lines, and hooks assuredly hung from its sides, dripping with the blood of their kill.
Therazine had no harpoons with which to kill her whale. She ran a hand through her soaking hair. How helpful the Bloodletter Society would be right now.
“Thera?” came a gruff voice from behind her.
Therazine turned and saw Vexxer Roz standing just beyond the crooked tree. The large coat he wore clung to his huge frame, and water streaked down his bald head.
She blinked, and then turned back to the harbor, folding her arms across her chest.
“Thera, it’s getting dark. You said you’ve no place else to go. You can’t stay out here at night. You know you can’t.”
She heard his feet move slowly through the mud until he was standing above her. She didn’t look up at him, letting him stand there. After a moment he sat down.
“How’d you find me?” she asked.
“You always used to come out to the hanging tree when you needed to do some thinking,” Vexxer said. “You didn’t know I knew that, but I did.”
The boat sounded its horn again. It was coming to dock, and the tiny voices of longshoremen reached her ears.
“It’s dangerous out in the Dregs after dark,” Vexxer said.
“I’m not scared of muggers.”
“It’s not muggers you need to be afraid of,” Vexxer said. He reached into his coat and pulled out a soggy sheet of paper. He unfolded it and held it out for her to read.

Public Notice For The Bounty Of THERAZINE MORLO
WANTED by the LORD CEDRIC MONDOZER of Lormian for the murders of WALLACE MONDOZER, JED MONDOZER, NIGEL MONDOZER, and EMUEL MONDOZER.

Name: Therazine Morlo, born Therazine
Race: Unknown; Celedine features
Sex: Female
Age: 32 years

Target is considered Armed and Highly Dangerous. Live capture is NOT recommended. Lord Cedric MonDozer will pay TEN-THOUSAND GLIT ($10,000) upon proof of death (head), and will be compensated for equipment/medical treatment.
Posted by the Civil Justice Authority

She was not surprised. She did not take the page from Vexxer. He held it in front of her until it began to disintegrate from the rain, and then he stuffed it back into his coat.
“Who’s this MonDozer?” Vexxer said.
“A land baron.”
“Did you have a job on his family? Somebody pay you good?”
“No.”
Vexxer shifted, and his boots squeeked. “Then why’d you kill his kids?”
“Because they killed mine,” Therazine said.
Vexxer sat up straight. “But you said—” His hands moved, and for a moment Therazine was certain he was going to put his arms around her. But they just hung there at his sides, awkward and impotent. “Thera, I’m… I’m so sorry.”
Therazine watched as the whaler’s deck lights came on. Something crashed in the darkness below, something metal and heavy, and the longshoremen’s voices became aggravated and quick.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”
Therazine shut her eyes tight, and tried not to think of Bren. She focused her thoughts on Cedric MonDozer, the bastard matriarch of the MonDozer clan. He put out a notice on her. The son of a bitch sought ‘justice.’ She pictured him sitting in his mansion in Nalak, signing another downtrodden immigrant family into servitude, or plowing one of his dozens of whore wives. Don’t dwell on sorrow. No progress ever came from despair. It’s rage that’s gotten you through the hardest times.
“I have a job,” she said. “Here. On Celedin.”
Vexxer waited, and then spoke quietly. “Do you mean like—”
“Yes. I mean a job. It’s a big one, too.”
“So you still are in the business?”
“No,” Therazine said quickly. “I am not. I haven’t been since last I was in this damned city. But MonDozer ruined my family. Butchered it. I need the money, and this is all that I’m good at.”
“Thera, that’s not true—”
“I don’t need pity, Vexxer, so stop it. This is what I’m good at. This is why I was approached for this job.” She looked over at him.
Vexxer glanced away and scratched his nose, avoiding her eyes. “So what… what’s this job?”
“I don’t think I’m comfortable telling you quite yet. It’s big, is all you need to know. Big enough that I realize I’ll need help.”
Vexxer returned to her, his eyebrows raised. “My help?”
Therazine nodded. “I don’t have anyone else to turn to in this world.”
Vexxer opened his mouth like he was going to object, and then scratched his nose again.
“The first thing I’ll need is equipment,” Therazine said. “Grapnels. Poisons. Trackers, rope, needles. Guns.”
“I’ve got some stuff, Thera, but not enough to outfit you. Most of my gear is kept at the Guildhall.” He pulled out the wet page from his pocket. “And I don’t think the society would be too keen lending to you.”
“No,” Therazine said. “They’ll be coming after me, no doubt. Even without the ten-thousand, they’d take in that bounty just to see me dead.”
Vexxer hesitated. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“Who’s Archblade now?”
Vexxer looked down at his feet and breathed in heavily before saying, “Crausk.”
“I thought so,” Therazine said, and she nodded again. “He wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity to legally slit my throat. The only advantage I have now is that they don’t know I’m even here.” She gave Vexxer a hard look.
His expression twisted. He looked hurt, and his red beard twitched. “I haven’t told anybody.”
“I know,” Therazine said.
A horn blared down in the docks bellow. Another whaling ship had come in, it’s electric demon eyes shining light through the harbor. It shouted at the whaler that was already in dock, clearly upset that its place had been taken. A shouting match ensued between the first whaler’s crew and the crew of the incoming ship, with the longshoremen trying to diffuse things.
“I’ll pay you for your help,” Therazine said.
“Bah.” Vexxer waved a dismissive hand at her.
“I will,” she said. “I don’t want any ties left to this world when I’m done. No debts.”
Vexxer said nothing to that. She watched the dockworkers trying to ameliorate the mixup between the whaling ships, and she felt a bit of a rise when the first punch was thrown.
“I’ve got my Darnull that I keep at home,” Vexxer said. “But it sounds like you’ll be needing more than one handgun for this job. If the Society isn’t an option, what are you going to do?”
Therazine stood. The muddy earth accepted her weight and rose around the edges of her boots. She threw her wet hair back and wiped the water from her face.
“I think it’s time we paid Maddy a visit,” she said.

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

TIME AWASH WITH BLOOD-- Chapter Six


He couldn’t stop shaking.
The water coming from the tap was warm on Rambolt Eells’ hands. He’d wanted it to be cold, to be refreshing and cleansing. But it was warm, and faintly brown with rust. Fetid and thick, and probably running straight from the sewers. He scrubbed his red hands again and again, trying to remove the stains from his trembling fingers. Dirt. Grime. Raw sewage spilling over his hands. The water is disgusting. Just like everything else in this damn city.
The red wasn’t coming off of his skin. He yanked the knob on the sink and shut off the flow of dirty water. He clutched the edges of the sink and breathed deep. Stop shaking, you coward.
His reflection in the bathroom mirror surprised him. The X-shaped mark on his face still burned and swelled, the raw skin almost pulsating. It had seared away the hair on either side of his head, just above the temples, giving him a permanent widow’s peak. A surge of stinging pain shot across his flesh every time he blinked. He reached a hand up, tenderly, to touch the soon-to-be scar, and once again found himself shaking as his red-stained fingers came into his vision.
“Literal blood on your hands, I see,” cam a voice from his left.
He spun towards the open window in the bathroom. Dusk had settled, the sun revealing itself as a thin red line below the clouds that still poured acid rain. The gabled roofs of Celedin were silhouetted by the glowing horizon, tracing a jagged line along the sky. The floor in front of the window was wet from rain—he always kept the windows in his room open. How else was he to hear the troubled shrieks of the city?
On the sill perched a rot crow. Its black feathers were matted with the filth, a product of living in the skies of Celedin. Its beak was scratched and misshapen, and sagging growths sprouted from its neck and torso. Dark liquid dripped from its feathers and beak, which Eells knew could be either the same water that came from his tap or blood from a corpse that was stuck in the drains in the street below.
The rot crow spoke without moving its beak. “Do you think this time it will stay there?”
Eells turned back to the mirror. “I’ve not the patience or the time for you, Silas.”
“Come now,” the rot crow said. “It’s been years since we’ve spoken. Surely you’ve something to say to me.”
“Nothing,” Eells said.
The bird cocked its head. “Not surprised to see me?”
Eells turned the faucet back on and ran his hands under the warm water.
“No, I suppose you’re not,” the rot crow said. “Not after what you did outside the Council’s tower. You knew I would come. Tell me, did they reprimand you at all? Did anyone say anything? Or did you just stride back to the abbey, climb those stairs, and lock yourself in your bathroom to contemplate the horrors you’ve committed?”
“Horrors,” Eells said. “I’ve done no injustice.”
“Tell that to the dead men you left in Rilani Plaza.”
“They were not worthy of their lives,” Eells said. “They were wastrels, blasphemers. The Aether coursed through them like it was their blood.”
“Did it now?”
“I’ve done the Real a kindness, clearing those rats from the streets.” Eells turned to the window. “I am no longer a mere man, Silas. Can you not see my face? The mark left by the Council?”
The rot crow preened itself. “All I see is the scarred face of a madman.”
“This,” Eells said, touching his tender skin, “shows that I am more than other men. I have ascended. I can do it now, Silas. I can cleanse this world, like I’ve always intended to.”
Silas cawed once, a guttural, high-pitched sound. “Is that your plan, then? To kill everyone? That’s how you’re going to cleanse everything?”
Eells shook his head. “It is not as simple as that. Man is a diseased rat. They bring plague upon the Real. But I am not mad. I know that I cannot eradicate all the rats that scurry through alleys and mortar walls. That is impossible. But what I can do, Silas, is burn away the plague. The Aether is the disease that the rats transmit. I need only kill the carriers. The presence of the Aether will die without its hosts.”
“You’re mad.”
“I am not mad.”
“Then why am I here?” Silas said.
Eells bared his teeth. “Why are you here, Silas? What guilt do you seek to feed off of? I feel no remorse for my actions today.”
“Did you feel no guilt over Wesh Armitage?”
Eells blinked and took a step back.
“Was he not worthy of his life?” Silas said.
“How dare you?” Eells said.
The rot crow cawed three times, quickly, almost like laughter. “How dare I? You’re the one who killed him.”
“Armitage gave his life trying to find the source of the Schism. We were partners.”
“And then you shot him in the heart. I was there. In fact, I believe that was the last time you and I talked, was it not?”
“It was the last time you haunted me,” Eells said. “Which doesn’t explain why you’re here now. What have you come for, you wretched thing?”
“That’s no way to talk to your brother,” Silas said. “After everything I’ve done for you.”
“I don’t have time for this,” Eells said. He shut off the water again and wiped his hands. A faint brown stripe was left on the towel that hung by the sink. “I have a mission. I have a higher calling.”
“That’s right,” Silas said. “I heard about that. You’re hunting the source of another Schism. Do you think you’ll kill any more innocents this time around?”
“Begone,” Eells said. “You’re not wanted here, Silas.”
“You’re breaking my poor heart,” Silas said.
“I didn’t cry for you when you died.” Eells grabbed his long coat off the hanger and threw it over his shoulder. He turned the knob on the door. “I won’t cry for you now.”
“I wouldn’t go that way,” Silas said. Eells paused and looked at the bird.
“There’s constables in the great hall,” Silas said. “They’re looking for you.”
“What?” Eells said. He felt both fear and fury rising in his stomach. They wouldn’t have the audacity to come for him, would they? “I’ve done nothing that wasn’t within my right as Bereaver.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Silas said. “But there’s still two dead men outside the Council tower. They still want to question you. Learn the circumstances behind their deaths. Write accounts for their grieving widows and fatherless sons.”
Eells said nothing. He felt his face stinging.
“Besides,” Silas said. “You’ll want to get moving towards the epicenter of the Schism if you want to catch her.”
“Her?” Eells said.
The rot crow spread its filthy wings and cawed once before flying out into the night sky.
“Silas!” Eells bolted to the window and clawed out into the rain, trying to catch the bird by its feet. “Silas, you bastard, what do you mean ‘her’?”
But it was too late. The rot crow disappeared into the downpour. The sun was gone now, and the rooftops were lost in the drowning haze of steamy rain. The water was cool on Eells’ face. He breathed hard, frantically searching the roofs and the clouds for any sign of the rot crow. In the silence he heard voices behind him, followed quickly by a pounding on the door of his room. The voices called his name. They shouted questions. They sought answers.
Eells looked out into the desolate, reeking streets. His rapier was at his hip. He had his coat, and he had his mark.
“Her.”
Something about that simple world told him that Silas was right. The source of the Schism wasn’t an event, but a person. A woman. The rending of the fabric between dimensions was caused by a woman. A woman who was here. In his city. She was the source of the unholy energy of the Aether. She was the carrier of the plague. Eells ignored the calls and pounding behind him and stepped onto the windowsill. The street was only eight stories below.
She wouldn’t wait. He had to find her, before he lost her again.