It was a short distance to the floor below. Sora landed softly and gave herself a minute to adjust to the shadows and dust. The space was clearly an attic, packed with old boxes and scuffed trinkets. If she listened, she could hear the sound of distant foot traffic from the floor below, voices and an occasional thump. They were most likely above a store.
The attic had been transformed into a cozy room with a tattered carpet and scratched paintings. The atmosphere was friendly and welcoming, which put her at ease. Her gaze shifted to Burn, who had been tackled by four of the Dracians. They were laughing in delight as he lifted all four into the air, two in each arm.
"I guess they've never seen a Wolfy before," came Crash's voice next to her. It undermined the laughter in the room. A wry expression marked his face, and Sora felt a momentary stab of pain, remembering Dorian. He would have enjoyed the Dracians immensely.
Sora frowned, trying to clear her thoughts. "I guess we won't be getting that money today," she murmured to Crash.
"Ah, well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow," the assassin replied. She hadn't been expecting his easiness on the matter, but his words were not comforting. Perhaps they weren't supposed to be.
"Jacques! I'm back!"
A trapdoor opened in the floor, only a few feet away from Sora's boots. A young man bounced through, probably a year older than herself and, from his coloring, obviously a Dracian.
"Tristan!" Jacques ran over to the young man's side and gave him a rough knock on the shoulder. "Courting a young love this afternoon, weren't you? How is the girl?"
Tristan put one hand on his forehead and groaned dramatically. "Woe, horrible! She is so demanding! You're a terrible man, Jacques, to pick her out of the crowd!" He scrunched up his face; he had strong, handsome features, dark auburn hair and bright blue eyes. "She must be the most selfabsorbed person I've ever met!"
"Aye... I thought you might make a good match!"
Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Very funny...."
Jacques laughed and put his arm around the younger man, tussling his short red hair. "Eh, there will be others, I'm sure. Anyway, I'd like you to meet a few new faces." He turned and motioned to their group. "This is Laina, she's from out of town. Quite the li'l charmer, aye?"
Laina's cheeks turned pink. The young man made a short bow.
"This is Burn, a mercenary Wolfy from... well, I don't know where exactly," Jacques continued.
The young man's mouth fell open as Burn turned around. It was a ridiculous sight. The mercenary had four grown men hanging from his arms, and was almost twice as tall as the Dracian.
Tristan was struggling to regain control of his voice. "Really?" he finally gasped. "A Wolfy? I thought your kind had perished long ago! No offense...." he paused nervously.
"None taken," Burn said, and managed to grip Tristan's hand, despite the extra baggage.
Jacques continued around the room, hesitating when he looked at Crash, then continued past him. “And this beauty over here is Sora,” he finished.
Tristan's eyes fell on her and she noted his expression. It was the same look that the farmboys had given her back at her mother's town. She swallowed and tried to ignore it. “Nice to meet you.”
"Tristan," he stuttered, coming up to her. "My name's Tristan. Nice to meet you, too. If—uh, if you don't mind me saying so, miss, you are...” he grabbed her hand and held it a little too tight for comfort. “Perfect.”
Whatever that means, she thought. She looked around the room quickly, hoping that someone would rescue her from the embarrassing situation, but she saw only Burn's amused smile and Laina's angry glance. She blinked in surprise. Jealousy?
"So... you're a Dracian too?" she asked hesitantly. Tristan still hadn't dropped her hand.
"Half, actually, on my father's side," he said, a little too fast. Then he smiled. Two handsome dimples stood out on his cheeks. Sora sucked in a quick breath. Oh, my. Then he winked. "That's why I'm so much better-looking than the rest of 'em! How about you? Are you half Harpy?"
“What?” Sora asked, taken aback. She didn't know what Harpies looked like, so she didn't know how to answer that. "N-no, I'm not," she stuttered. "Or at least, I don't believe so."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Because that would explain everything: your grace, your stature, your beauty....” He kissed her hand, lingering. She felt an urgent need to tug away. "You have a certain glow about you, almost like magic. Have you cast me under a spell? I feel absolutely bewitched...."
He straightened up suddenly, dropping her hand, and Sora was shaken out of her trance. An arm slid around her shoulders.
"Hello," Crash said bluntly. The assassin stared at the young man with a dead, cold eye.
She could feel his warmth, and for some reason, it was even more distracting than the handsome redhead in front of her. What's wrong with me? she suddenly thought, shaking her head. She looked at the two men, but was unable to understand the tension between them.
Crash, who was the older of the two and a lot more skilled at silent confrontations, stared Tristan down until the young Dracian was forced to look away.
"Come on, Sora, Jacques...." Crash straightened up and withdrew his arm. "I need to speak with you." The assassin turned toward the open window without another glance at Tristan.
Sora and Jacques shared a glance before following him. He led the three outside onto the roof, where they sat down to watch the sunset, leaving the rest of the party inside. Sora shifted around several times, trying to get comfortable on the tiles. She wrapped her arms around her legs and looked out over the city. The sea breeze was still brisk and fresh, and the distant rumble of the street was like calming music to her ears. She felt somehow above the world, untouchable.
Crash and Jacques both settled nearby.
"Dracian?" the assassin began.
"Jacques is my name, and you may call me by it." He sounded almost hostile. "Also, I would prefer it if you don't go spouting out the word Dracian and getting us into trouble."
Sora was surprised by the sudden shift in his tone.
Crash sneered slightly. "More trouble than you're in now? I hardly believe that's possible." He turned to face Jacques more fully. "Listen, Dracian, I'm not breathing a word about your kind, though your presence is obvious to anyone who knows what to look for. And I hope you won't breathe a word about us as well."
Jacques nodded after a long pause. "I don't intend to say anything of you, Dark One." He fixed Crash with a cold stare.
Sora listened to the discussion curiously, but held her questions in check.
"I know that you don't want me here," Crash said calmly. "But our quest cannot be further delayed. Sora, show him the rapier hilt."
Sora was surprised. She reached for her bag, wondering where Crash was going with this. After a bit of rummaging, she pulled it out and unwrapped it.
The Dracian looked at the hilt for a long moment, then back to Crash. “What is this?”
“Look at the symbols on the hilt. Here, hold it in your hand for a moment.”
Jacques went to lift the device from Sora's hand, but as he did, he dropped the rapier, as though touched by fire. With a slight hiss, he shook his fingers. “It's colder than ice!”
“Exactly.”
Now Sora was confused. “Wait, what do you mean?” she asked.
Crash nodded slowly. “The hilt doesn't affect you, Sora, because you wield a Cat's Eye. You can't feel the rapier's magic. I'm not surprised that you haven't noticed this before.” Then he looked back to Jacques. “We are being hunted by a very angry, blood-driven Wolfy mage. He is consumed by a thirst for revenge. He has summoned three wraiths to hunt us from the underworld.”
“Three wraiths?” Jacques asked, his eyes widening. They returned to the rapier hilt. “Three dead spirits?”
Crash nodded again.
“I am not a specialist in these things,” Jacques said slowly. “But our kind, too, has legends. From what I recall, this magic is forbidden.”
&n
bsp; “And for good reason,” Crash replied. “These are not just normal weapons. They are sacred weapons of the Dark God. The longer they remain in this world....”
“The more His power manifests.” Jacques stared at both of them for a long moment. “And with his return will come plagues, war, chaos.”
Sora was stunned that he knew so much. She looked at Crash, who had a satisfied glint in his eye. “Yes,” the assassin finally said. “I'm glad I don't have to convince you of that. Sora has a Cat's-Eye necklace. We are traveling to destroy the mage... and hopefully set things right.”
Jacques turned to look at her, sharing her stunned expression. “Well,” he finally said. “You are a curious lot, indeed. Let me see this Cat's Eye.”
Sora hesitated before pulling the necklace from her shirt. The Dracian's eyes lingered on the stone. He looked as though the breath had been knocked out of him. “'Tis a bit much,” he murmured.
Sora nodded in agreement—'tis still a bit much for me, too! “We've come from Barcella,” she said quietly. “We've already spoken to the High Priestess. A plague has started spreading across the mainland. It hasn't reached the coast yet, but it's on its way. Countless livestock have died. Crops have turned rotten. Now farmers and their children are getting sick.”
Jacques nodded slowly. “I have heard rumors of this in past months. I thought 'twas just hysteria over a bad crop.”
“No, it's not. It's real,” Sora said, her voice turning serious. “The legends are true, and this is just the beginning. We need to destroy the weapons... and destroy the mage who summoned them. That's the only way to stop the plague.”
Jacques' eyes darted back and forth between them. “Bringin' spirits back from the dead is tricky business,” he finally said. “If the mage is unskilled, then the spirits can enter the world with all sorts of strange energy. Looks like you drew the short straw. It would be pretty hard to swallow if this hilt weren't right in front of me. What happened to the blade?”
“Long story,” Crash said bluntly. “More importantly, we need to kill Volcrian to stop the plague.”
“And how d'you plan to do that?” Jacques asked.
“The Lost Isles,” Crash stated.
The Dracian looked at Sora, then at the Cat's Eye that she still held in her hand. He wasn't smiling anymore; his face was solemn. “All that, just to kill a Wolfy? Though, I suppose he is more than just a Wolfy now. Don'cha realize what awaits you on the Isles...?”
“I...” Sora's voice faded. She didn't know what to say.
“The Lost Isles are one of the few remaining sacred grounds,” he said. “They contain a circle of stones that was once used for living sacrifices. Prisoners were placed within the circle, and a Cat's-Eye stone would suck the very souls out of them. The magical energy is still dense in the land, in the clouds and sea. There are strange storms out that way.” Jacques frowned. “I take it you plan to do the same to Volcrian?”
“Something like that,” Crash said.
Jacques nodded again. He stared at Sora for a long, hard minute. His silence was excruciating. It seemed to drown out the wind, the distant shouts from the streets below, even her own thoughts. “It could destroy the necklace, y'know,” he said. “The stone itself. It might crack and break. Y'know what that means...?”
Sora hadn't heard of this before. She grew pale, cold. Yes, she knew what that meant—she would have to relinquish the necklace. A broken bond. And, most likely, her own death.
She could only nod silently.
“Then we will assist you, Sora,” he said, his tone soft, almost gentle. He completely disregarded Crash. “If you are willing to sacrifice your life for this, then we will stand at your side.”
Sora was struck by his sincerity. She opened her mouth, but still couldn't find any words. What could she say? She couldn't explain herself, and "thank you" seemed thoughtless and empty.
“We are in need of a ship,” Crash said sharply, breaking the moment.
Jacques turned back to him. “There are storms out that way, y'know. Things of nature that the Cat's Eye won't stand against. And the Harpies do not like visitors on their island.”
“We have to go there.”
“I know. And I said I would help you,” he grunted. "Don't push me, Dark One. I owe you nothing.”
Why do they keep calling him that? Sora wondered, giving Crash a searching glance that he didn't return.
“I'll see to it tomorrow,” Jacques said abruptly. “The soldiers are still too active on the docks. I believe your party will have to stay here for the night.” He grinned, the shadow passing from his face. "The soldiers will be swarmin' over your hotel by now, but don't worry. It's run by a good friend of mine and she would never let them touch anything. We'll be eating in a little while. Please, make yourself at home. I'll send out Tristan to fetch your bags later tonight."
Sora nodded and smiled a little uncertainly. Crash stood up and she followed suit. It was getting cold outside, and she wanted to keep her health. Somehow, despite the vivid sunset, it had grown dark and gloomy.
With a yawn and a shiver, she headed back through the skylight.
Crash and Jacques stayed out on the roof for a moment more, sharing a look that was almost tangible. Then they followed her into the building.
Chapter 14
The next morning was gray and stormy. Dark, angry clouds covered the sun in a thick mass. Looking outside, Sora felt reluctant to get her chores done, but she had to buy supplies with the money the Dracians had given them for their equipment. Of course, she knew the money was stolen, but at that moment it just didn't seem to matter... and definitely didn't matter to Crash.
The assassin had woken her up only fifteen minutes earlier and explained his plan to buy supplies for the ship. He would go to buy the fresh water they needed for the voyage. Sora would buy the food. He had given her a rough list of how many pounds they would need of dried meat, grains, rice, and vegetables; that almost made her eyes pop out of her head. He also gave her an address where she should have the crates shipped to the docks. After getting the supplies, they would meet and eat lunch at the hotel.
Laina and Burn had to stay inside, since the soldiers were doubtlessly looking for them. Sora had readily agreed to this. At least if they were indoors, they would stay out of trouble.
And so, Sora found herself hopping down from a low building into a narrow alley. She landed gently amidst a pile of trash, then wrinkled her nose at the smell. City life was definitely not as glamorous as it was made out to be. As she got up, she was startled by a sudden growl, and turned to find a dirty mutt standing in the alley, baring its teeth protectively over the trash pile. She was only worried for a moment. Crash landed silently next to her. The dog slunk away.
"Take this," he murmured, and drew something out of his cloak.
Sora gasped. "My staff!" she exclaimed, then looked at him suspiciously. "Where did you get it? I thought Tristan said he couldn't find it last night."
"A Dracian was sleeping with it. Don't take it personally. They'll steal anything and everything, even from their own mothers. Keep a close eye on your bags."
Sora frowned, suddenly uncomfortable. "Do you think the rest of our things are safe?" she asked quietly.
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We're out of supplies as it is, and we don't have much money. Let's get moving." After a pause, he added, "Be careful. I don't know if the guards got a look at us."
Sora blinked, and he was gone. She watched the tail end of his cloak disappear around the corner, then she slung her staff over her shoulder and headed in the opposite direction, to the food district.
The crowds were thinner than usual on this cloudy morning. The air was thick with drizzle. Most people moved swiftly, hunched against the weather. They were dressed in heavy cloaks and boots, prepared for a storm. The wind was notably stronger than yesterday, gusting through the streets in sudden force, blowing down flower stands and sweeping away paper bags. Soon she was shivering, despite her
cloak.
Her boots clicked smartly on the cobblestones as she reached the front of the docks. The ocean was stone-gray, reflecting the dark clouds, and tossing with short, choppy waves. There were street vendors on every side of her, calling out their wares despite the threatening rain. Sora walked among the sparse crowd, mostly sailors and fishermen, with the occasional bustling housewife. Wiry old sea dogs sat under foyers and overhangs, rolling dice across upturned barrels and smoking pipes. Some leered as she passed, but she had learned to ignore them.
The shopping list included a series of stores; she found two of them almost immediately. They were giant warehouses, each taking up an entire city block. The lines were short due to the weather, and she didn't have to wait long before ordering. At the first store, she requested several hundred pounds of salted meats and even bought a few chickens, figuring they could eat eggs for breakfast. At the next warehouse, she ordered seaworthy vegetables, such as carrots, yams, beans, and a variety of pickled stuff that she didn't look at too closely. She gave each shop owner the delivery address; none seemed surprised by her request and treated her orders as status quo. Sora finally finished her shopping with only two silvers left and very, very sore feet. She looked at her coin purse in wonder. Sailing was far more expensive than she had anticipated. They were going to need more money.
As she exited the final shop, the first few drops of rain hit her nose. The sky had increasingly darkened until it felt like evening; the clouds were heavy and low. The wind swept by even more briskly than before, blowing fragile droplets of rain into her face. Sora blinked her eyes clear and looked around, trying to reorient herself. Now which way back to the hotel? She and Crash would check their rooms one last time before turning in their key and leaving for good.
The population of the docks was sparser than before; most of the vendors had given up and gone home. She leaned back against the cold stone wall of a building and took a moment to look at the ocean. Two ships were racing toward the docks, their sails billowing and flapping in the unstable wind, attempting to beat the weather. The waves jumped and leapt in the face of the oncoming storm front. Out at the breakwater, huge sprays leapt over the rocks, perhaps twenty feet, higher than the houses on shore.