- The birds are taking off -
I just finished this week’s FFF and I’m digging it!
Sellswords, blood and a surprise. What’s not to dig?
This week was: Bittersweet beginnings!
(Warns: gore and such? Ah, but it’s nothing too bad. A nibble. Kid-friendly.)
“The sun is a glacial break on the edge of a black bottle. The rays, a wingless freedom.” I mutter, up against the light reflected in my dark swirling ale.
“And my tether is best sat in a whore’s mouth!” Jhay chokes on his own joke and slaps his knee.
“The finest stout, all through Kûhz, and you feel the need to spit about whores like a sea boy? Uncultivated swine.” I stab at him in a smile, I have a wicked smile.
My one boot is on the soaked soil, blood and ale, and the other is resting comfortably on The Good Duke’s severed head.
“I only spit because I’m all finished swallowing.” Jhay grins at me. He’s a good enough brother, through we don’t shared parents, but he’s rough. With his words as well as his sword.
A crow land in The Good Duke’s body that has fallen down in the Heritage roses ten paces from its head. It’s a big fat bird and it gets to pecking without even spearing us a single glance.
It knows we’re won’t harm it. The trail of scattered limbs all over the courtyard have told it that we’ve done enough.
We both grow quiet as we look at how the crow digs into the corpse and gobble up red strips of skin.
“There’s a girl in the house Rav.” Jhay says after a while.
I set down my flagon, a well earned courtesy of The Good Duke’s kitchen stock.
Jhay pulls a grimace that stretches his lip and shrugs.
“Or daughter. I didn’t ask.”
“And you didn’t kill her.”
Jhay shrugs again but he doesn't look me in the eye. He can’t finish off women, or children. That’s the only thing that’s soft in him and it’s extremely impractical as a partner. It’s always me who has to do the devil’s wrenching work, and I secretly hate Jhay for making me. Well, him and that slimy eel, Lawshack.
I take a deep breath and get up, plucking up my runny sword out of the ground.
“Upstairs. In the bedroom. I locked her in the wardrobe.” He’s talking to the ground, his oily waves of bloody hair has fallen in front of his face. Poor Jhay. Poor fucking Jhay.
“Wait here.” I say, already striding back to the front door.
The house is a mess. The Good Duke’s staff is a mess too. Cut up prices here and there, I have to mind my step.
You would think that more men had been in here, but it was just me and Jhay. That’s why people hire us. We’re very effective for such a modest duo.
I make my way up the stairs. The steps creak under me. I don’t mind killing. Once I’ve gotten started, the ball can roll on. I don’t really see who goes where on my weapon, it’s not a conscious decision, but the ‘after kills’ are different.
You have the quiet to remind you that you are a monster.
The creak of the demons to haunt you.
At the top I get to a L-shaped hallway. The Good Duke was rich, that’s probably what got him killed - portrait after lovely vivid portrait stares at me from the walls.
I find the bedroom and I see the exquisitely carved wardrobe, big enough to fit three people, at the far end of the room.
I creep closer. The shards from a mirror splinter under my dirty sole like a sleet of ice on a puddle.
Jhay has struck a fire poker through the ornamented golden handles. There’s chips gone off the gold, there’s deep notches in the wood.
She has tried to get out. Pushed against the doors from the inside. I feel nauseous.
I grasp the iron rod with one hand and ready my sword with the other. If she fought the wardrobe, she was going to fight me.
I feel like I am getting ready to kill a mouse, a helpless little mouse that was at the wrong place, at the wrong time…
I pull out the rod and take a step back, expecting the doors to burst open and the girl to leap out.
But the doors only moan apart.
After a quiet moment I help them a little, toeing them ajar.
Velvet coats, lace dresses, presses together, and there at the bottom: I see someone.
I see curls and curls of long black hair. She is clutching her knees and her shoulders are skipping, but she’s mute.
Probably too scared to even cry out loud.
I feel like smacking Jhay.
How could he have been so cruel as to stuff this girl inside the closet and then just leave her there? Wasn’t it kinder to just end the job?
I raise my sword, indecisively swaying the tip between the crown of her curly head and her shoulder.
I frown. I want to do it quick but she has to lift her head for me to get at her throat.
“Girl.” I say and find my voice has gone ragged.
She clutches her knees tighter. Boney fingers clawing into the white frills of her tailored gown.
I realize the girl is laughing rather than crying. It’s unnerving, but sometimes they do that. The people I gut.
I clear my throat and try again.
She freezes. The shoulders stop jerking and relax. She lifts her head.
I see her face and take an involuntary step back. My sword hand tightens on the hilt.
She’s beautiful. A child with rosy cheeks and long dark lashes, but her mouth is twisted in a horrid wince of a sharp-toothed smirk.and her eyes… the yellow is standing out of the darkness like glowing coins.
The creak of floarbords sound behind me. I glance over my shoulder, and as I do that I know I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off of the Blood Kin girl.
Jhay is standing in the doorway looking white as a sheet.
“What are you—“ I ask but the rest of my words get choked in my throat as the girl has sunken her teeth in me.
I stagger, dropping my sword and scream in a gurgle. I try to grab her! Try to swat her off! I trip and clash to the ground. The girl bites harder. Makes pleased noises in my flesh.
I look over at Jhay. He hasn’t drawn his own sword. He just stares me in the eye.
“—hel—p!?” I rip at her hair. The girl doesn’t budge. Her nails are digging into my skin. The flood of warm blood is gushing over my throat.
“Rav…” He looks like he’s about to say that he’s sorry, but Jhay doesn’t lie very often. He’s sympathetic like that.
The girl let’s go and the vacuum of the suction smacks my ear.
I feel tired. Too tired to get up. And I feel cold. She has bleed me out. That bitch.
I slap a hand over the gaping wound of a bite she’s left on me. My fingers are numb but I can feel my pulse squirting sleek blood out in my palms.
The girl steps over me. Her frilly dress drags in my mess.
“I’m glad you found me.” Her voice is a silvery bell. A high and sweet melody. She’s not talking to me, she’s talking to Jhay.
He focuses on her instead of me.
“I looked every waking moment Liška…” Jhay brushes her cheek with his thumb.
“Nrash rhadikva. Let us leave my love.” She pecks his lips and they get stained with my blood.
The birds are taking off.
