Dar-Klite: Two-Hearts - 3. Chapter 3

Nightfall was upon the city of Tallisk, Malcolm and Azuel were on their fifth ale.

“Is he still down there?”

“Feels like it,” Malcolm took a sip of his ale, “He’s probably not getting out without help, I’m in no rush.”

“Shouldn’t you be?” Malcolm shook his head, finishing the rest of his ale in one gulp.

“Like I said, don’t think they’re going anywhere, besides would you be in a rush to wade through sewage in dark corridors alone with no sense of direction or tools?”

“No, I’d like to get off this island before the council finds out your intentions.” Malcolm, took a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket, cleaning his face off.

“Well, if you're so pressed for time, you go ahead and start towards the ship, I’ll go ahead and fetch him.” He threw a pouch of gold that spilled out onto the bar top, lighting up the exhausted barkeep.

“Blessings upon you strangers!” he yelled as the two made their way through the dense nighttime crowd.

“A city with wine flowing through the very fountains and you still spend a small fortune on imported ale.”

“Wine touched by the hands of possibly millions of impoverished people, I think I’ll splurge on some untouched ale in a barrel.” He broke down an alley, “Go to the ship, this won’t take that long!” he yelled jogging down the alleys. Azuel started to yell something back but simply shook her head and made her way to the docks.

After a few minutes, he began walking slowly down the alleyways, taking a red jeweled amulet out of his pocket, he observed the gem, as it faintly pulsed in his hand, he began to sweep the alleyways, waiting for a vibration or extra pulse.

“There you are!” he exclaimed out loud, the gem vibrating wildly in his hand, he placed it back into his pocket, still vibrating. He took a collapsible wand out of his pocket and opened it, the jeweled tip beginning to glow as he started to wave-

“Halt there!” Malcolm collapsed the wand and turned his hands behind his back.

“Ah, Evening sir!”

“What's that behind your back?” a second man came from the shadows in his peripherals, followed by another, as he backed himself against the wall of a building.

“Oh haha, this?” he held up the collapsed wand, “Oh you don’t want this gentleman.”

“Oh, but I think we do boyo, pretty things that glow always fetch a fair price,” they all began to draw various knives and a couple had clubs, it wasn’t belong before Malcolm was surrounded by the thugs, “Hand over the jewel, and the big one you put in your pocket, and we just might let you walk with just some bruises.”

“Well what an excellent deal but I’m going to have to pass. However!” he held up an index finger, “I have something that could interest you, boys, though, if not turn your attention from my doings entirely.”

“Ay, and what would that be silk rug?”

“In. For.Mation.” the posse broke out into laughter.

“Info doesn't work for us silky, no deal.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” he took a pocket watch out, and held it up by the chain, “Dock fourteen, in about three hours, middle of the night might I add, a ship will be docking hauling precious elixirs and even some gold, on behalf of the Magisterium.”

“You’re bluffing!”

“Oh? And my hair? I know you know who I am and who I represent, thus you should also expect an inkling of what I am capable of doing.” He threw the watch to the suspected ringleader, “Three hours, the ship will only be docked long enough to haul the goods into warehouse fourteen, since it’s an overnight shipment city guard will probably assume minimal threat.” The thieves began to whisper among themselves, the ringleader stashed the watch away and pointed his blade at Malcolm.

“How do we know you’re not lying.”

“Insurance? Here.” He threw the red vibrating gem at the man's feet, the gem vibrating violently against the cobblestone, “Now I’m going to get that back from you, but of course I assure you the shipment they’re bringing in will pay your way anywhere, all of you.” some of the thugs began to move in, ready to rob Malcolm anyway.

“Stop!” The ringleader moved forward and shoved the thugs back, “We have what we came for, let's get ready,” as the thugs dispersed he turned and pointed back at Malcolm, “We catch roaming the alleys again silk rug, better have some more tips like that haha!” they sprinted off, Malcolm took his wand back out extending it back and returning to focusing on the middle of the alleyway., the wand dancing through the air he swooped down spinning on his heels whilst pointing the flickering wand towards the ground, the bricks around him starting to dance and coil around him as the bricks under his feet slowly elevated him into the earth as the swirling bricks neatly stacked above him covering the ground above him, leaving the shifting colorful glow of his wand to light the tunnel around him, as the soil below shifted and moved to accommodate Malcolm.

Jack awoke to the pebbles around him vibrating as well as the stonework around him. He stood up, the ceiling cracking slightly, as the brick wall to his right-shifted out and moved to the side, revealing a white-haired, silk dressed man. Jack moved to the edge of the waterway, nearly slipping into the filth.

“Ugh, you look utterly disgusting!” Malcolm exclaimed, with a wave of his wand, light encompassed Jack, filling the tunnels with the mixed scent of juniper, mint, and the musk of the sewage. When the light expelled, Jack's clothes and face seemed clean, the smell and even the taste in his mouth seemed to be gone, “Don’t look so impressed, I just don’t want you tracking that filth on such a nice ship, now come on.” Jack began to nervously step forward, before stopping and looking back towards the tunnel.

“I can't leave my friend, he's still down here, I’m not leaving him.” Malcolm sarcastically searched the outcropping.

“It sure seems like he abandoned you.”

“No, I was sleepwalking and the-”

“Enough, we have to go, you need to come with me.”

“I don’t even know you!” Malcolm sighed, he flung his wand hand at the displaced wall, and it slid back into place like a puzzle piece, “How do I know you're not here to take me back…”

“What? -kid I-”

“No! I know who you are!” Jack took a deep breath and dove into the water.

“You fucking idiot!” Malcolm charged after him, the two dancing along the intertwining dark passages. Jack struggled to keep afloat taking what breaths he could as he buoyed and bounced against the stonework. The turbulence only followed by a sudden shore like wash, as Jack skidded across the foul undergrowth of the riverbed. Jack lifted his face from the pile, crackling blue light illuminated the curving tunnel before him, from behind. He slowly turned his muddied face to the ice blue, piercing his eyes as a silhouette, just rising, performed an orchestra, his glowing baton, fluctuating the illuminance, chilling cold winds streaking through Jacks skin straight to his bone.

A sudden inhale of the blue light into the wand, leaving only the bright glow of Malcolm's wand, revealing a creaking wall of dark green ice. Jack staring starstruck at the brilliance of such power as an angered, equally filthy Malcolm turned his gaze towards Jack. With a chop of his arm a yellow dart zipped Jack straight in the face, a puff of sparkles blooming off his head. Jack fell back down into the murk. Malcolm began sludging his way towards Jack, the ice eerily creaking behind him. To his shock, a decent lock of his snow-white hair fell at his feet forcing a sigh from the disgruntled mage.

"Making me lose hair, kid. Literally." He grumbled, flinging the limp boy over his shoulder, the sudden howl of the ice stopping Malcolm in his tracks, "Damn it!" He began to sprint realizing the critical state of the ice, the creaking echoing behind him as he lunged through the sludge, his wands light pushing the darkness. Skidding through the murk, halting at the edge of the tunnel, his blue light showed a vast empty dark, his light's edge marking the outlines of two worn columns. The creaking and bowing of the ice ticked at Malcolm’s mind, as he kneeled pushing his arm out, hoping to see a watery bottom to no avail. Merely darker. From his peripherals a stonework ledge, just out enough to stand on. He went to work casting Jack off his shoulder, and slapping his face, a symphony of creaking ice accompanying the panic.

“Come on kid, come on now!” he shook the limp Jack, a snore erupting in response. Another shudder of the Ice forced Malcolm to stand Jack up coiling his arms around the burden and carefully navigating him onto the ledge, on the simple faith the stone would not break from under their combined weight. The horror of thundering ice, cascading amongst a symphony of rushing water, causing Malcolm to about leap next to Jack, the force of wind and shards of ice spraying out of the tunnel, flicking the two with a mixture of murky water and ice, Malcolm turning his neck as far as it would allow. As the spray slowly receded to the tunnel's normal volume, Malcolm slowly opened his eyes and straightened his neck, his glowing wand and stretched arm, still holding back a limp body from falling into the black. Malcolm took a deep breath, the sound of the rushing falls filling the wide space.

“Couldn’t just listen.” he echoed into the black, before slowly moving his wrist, his wands shimmering as the brick stonework behind them swallowed them, the soil, brick, and stone melding and raising them from under. The night sky slowly formed as the bricks parted glided under the pair and rising to their feet, Malcolm catching Jack, before the stone gently pieced back together, the earth filling underneath the path.

“Alright easy there now.” Malcolm gently lugged Jack over to the side of a building and sat him down. “Right, now how am I going to bring you back…” he began searching the cluttered alley, thankful no one was present, and the city had seemed to be, at the very least, slightly quieter. A cart of salt bags would catch his eye, and a smile formed on the man’s face.

Azuel, was busily lighting the various lanterns around the ship, as crewmen scurried, preparing the ship for cast off.

“Where has that Malcolm run off to Azuel?” An angered Captain Greggor marched down from his stern at a tired Azuel.

“He’s grabbing our reason for coming to this awful city,” She shook the match out upon lighting another lantern before turning back to the captain, “I doubt he’ll take much longer.” The captain threw his hands in the air.

“We’ve been hopping city after city for weeks, what makes you so sure he found it this time?”

“Malcolm is sure we found him; I’m paid to be sure as he is. Just as you captain.”

“Be that as it may, hopping city to city, unable to even spend long enough time to get supplies even if he lets us, It’s not efficient!”

“He seems confident this would be the last stop,” she hung her head for a moment, “I know he can be a bit eccentric and demanding, but I’ve worked a good portion of my life with that prick. Despite it all I can attest to the fortune he promised you. Not that you need assurance.”

“Aye, a magistrate, even one of his status could buy me a fleet twenty times. Nevertheless, my crew are not his servants, we’re confident professionals.”

“You’ve made that clear,” Azuel ran her finger along one of the many cannons that lined the ship's port side, “I’ll make sure he understands, however, I can only do that if you understand something for me.”

“What would that be?”

“He pays us enough to ignore our opinions,” Azuel whispered whisking away to starboard, the captain trailing, dodging one of his crewmen.

“That as it may, we’re going to need supplies, we can’t leave this late even if we wanted to, the seas could be dangerous, you lighting us up like this could draw pirates even.”

“Well assuming we draw pirates anyway I’m sure you’ll want to see.” striking a match she began illuminating the starboard side. The captain rolled his eyes and stomped back towards his quarters. Azuel shook her head, knowing the captain was right, the beating sun on The Great Salt Sea was truly a trial let alone low supplies and an agitated crew. She returned to her task, settling that at the very least, she would try to convince Malcolm to stay long enough to regroup, resupply, and perhaps even adjust his attitude.

She chuckled quietly to herself.

Peter laid perched behind a large boulder, near the rougher edge of the forest, a small fire going that he hoped would not attract patrols. He looked over at his new companion hitched to a tall dark pine tree. It would have been a beautiful night had the overwhelming hunger not be a constant reminder of his predicament. He was thankful at the very least to have thick clothes, a sweater, but not thick enough for the frozen peaks, he debated on heading back to the wrecked convoy in the morning.

“What do you think boy?” he asked the horse, a simple snort in response to its usual breathing.

“Yeah, me too.” He rubbed his stomach and leaned forward towards the fire, gathering its warmth.

“I wonder how Jacks doing, wonder where he is?” He felt as if he was asking the starry night sky, blistering with blue and pink swirls of stardust, only ever so illuminated by the moon’s light. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, his last thoughts of the beautiful stars, and the memory of his face.

As Peter's eyes cracked open the next morning, he slowly rose stretching his arms, feeling his stomach rumble yet again. He wasted no time mounting his horse, and riding in the direction of the wagon. The foul chemical smoke signaled the approach of the site.

“Whoa, boy.” He halted his horse a good distance from the road wanting to protect his escape and dropped down into the snowy foliage. The smoke was thin but odorous, as he got closer to the site, what was “summs” wagon seemed melted in a massive pile of bubbling, smoking ooze. Peter covered his mouth coughing, as amid the smoke were the remains of the horses, and some of the guards, nearly blackened bones, their bodies also seemingly a pile of the same orange ooze. Careful to go around the Count’s wagon he opened it checking to see if there were any supplies remaining, nothing of note, save for a half-empty bottle of what appeared to be brandy. Shrugging he went ahead and snatched the brandy, crawling out of the wagon, looking at the scattered bodies left behind, their weapons and chain mail gone. Setting the brandy aside he went to work removing the clothes from the corpses.

Ugh, this is wrong...

Repulsively, one by one, he began layering linen shirt after linen shirt, and choosing the least damaged of the gambesons to wear over his padded body. Peter halted, as the distant sound of galloping sent him instinctively into the nearest bushes, skidding along the path and down the slope, forcing him to lose his sword on the road. Damn it, no no! He mentally panicked scrambling to crawl back up, but it was too late, and he rolled as closely under one of the thick bushes as he could, relying on the dense smoke and forest.

“Any sign of the boy yet Richard?” Peter recognized his Commanders voice, Sooyer!

“No sire, I traveled far east, I found some horse tracks, but they were all scattered about, no way of telling who’s who.”

“Damn it, towns getting restless, no count, no paramount, quarter of the guard dead!” the crunch of snow and armor, sent Peters hairs raising...

“What about that one survivor Kell?” Nyx inquired, “The one with half his face-”

“Dead now,” Kell interrupted, the shuttering of armor seemed to be marching closer towards Peter, “Kept screaming about summs.”

“Captain what are you looking at?” Nyx asked, Through the tiniest peaks through the foliage he could see Sooyer kneeled studying the sword.

“This sword is the only weapon left behind.”

“A bit odd,” Kell commented, “Who’s do you think it is?”

“Doesn’t seem like one of our smiths’, hilts a little poor, blades a bit sloppy.” The captain stood still gripping the sword, “the both of you ride back, I’m going to stick around see what I can find, I’m sure the town watch needs all the help it can right now, I won’t be far behind you two.”

“Be careful sire.” Nyx bid, the sound of horses signaling a retreat from the ruins.

“You can come out now.” Peter froze, his breathing coming to a wrenching halt.

“I won’t ask again Peter.”

Peter stayed, frozen as the snow around him. Silence fell amongst the trees, the hiss of an unsheathed sword slithered along Peter's skin.

“Despite it all, if you pass the trial, you will be welcomed back. I do not think you had anything to do with this, but you have two choices boy, you can own up, take the test, earn your freedom. Or run and be associated with what is happened here for the rest of your life, even if you weren’t involved. You will be because you ran.” The wrinkling of saddle leather gave a slight pause to Peter, his fists clenching to remain still.

“Don’t run, defeat this trial whatever it may be. Don’t run away over a foolish act boy!” Pish! Peter took a deep exhale, the sound of galloping racing back towards what once was his home. Peter made his way back up to the road, seeing his sword buoying back and forth, impaled into the ground. Reclaiming his weapon, he began making his way back to his horse, his captain’s speech weighing on his stomach. His home seemed so in reach, the thought of wanting to come home was a distant dream, however. His vision of a home period was becoming a blur, with Jack being so far gone, this gambit for Paradise began to seem futile. Peter shook his head reaching his horse, and he began to trot towards the path and begin his ascent through the mountains.

The ascent was rather pleasant, the winding and curving of the path led to a ridge, with some of its own expanse of forest, he continued the path up.

Snap! The loud snap of what sounded like a branch halted Peter, as he turned his horse towards the sound. He inspected the edge of the trees from afar, noticing movement still within the woods. He squeezed his thighs, sharply turning his horse, to gallop up the path. He wanted to avoid what conflict he could, feeling as tired and weak as he did.

“It would be hours, the ascent up becoming colder and colder, his winding climb, ending into a path dipping into a snowy valley, mountains seeming to get taller the deeper into the foreign lands he got. A tall rotting post, a circle of bones, with intricate weavings of strings, overlapping one another, holding a black raw chunk of a glossy mineral.

“A sin eater,” Peter muttered to himself, and presumed it a sign of the correct path, and proceeded. Another sin eater followed sometime after, dangling from an arching stone claw coming out of the ground, before being amassed by sin eaters of all kinds, hanging from the trees, either side of his path. Some big, some small, some glistening with quartz around their rings, and some towering with smaller sin eaters hanging below one another. The hive of dangling webs enraptured Peter in some way, the flooding joy of childhood springing back to him.

The memory of the twisting of wicker and sting by a warm fireplace filled Peter with a similar warmth. Every year, per tradition in his town the town would make one, they would hang them up on their windows, porches, doorways, anywhere. His eyes widened, as a large worn steel ring of interlaced knives merely stuck to the side of one of the larger pines. The forest of web seemed to continue forever, the path interweaving and curving, before he came to a complete halt. His heart seemed to fall out of his chest, his breath nearly halting.

“Well I think smoky and white quartz would be perfect,” A grinning Jack muttered under his breath, twining hard whicker, whilst creating a loop, “I’m clearly the smoky you’re the white.”

“What does that even mean?” Peter asked, studying each crystal and stone before him.

“Well you know I’m a little rough, but you’re kinda pure and white I guess.”

“Doesn’t white quartz get cloudy?”

“I mean so does the sky.” the couple chuckled.

“I can’t believe the amount of rocks you have, does your father just get you whatever?”

“Usually,” he nodded, “But the ‘rocks’ mean much to him. He is been into them since mother died, all my life the servants and him would make them in the dining hall together. This is actually the first time I do it alone.”

“My first time doing it away from my family, we’d each make our own.” Jack stopped his work, staring at his analytical partner.

“I love it when you do that…”

“What?”

“That!” Jack pointed, "you just gently move your eyes to the side, but you’re still locked into what you were doing.”

“Ha.” Jack wrapped his arms around Peter.

“So smoky and white?”

“Only if you do that thing I like?” Peter shifted his eyes at a ginning Jack.

A smoky and cloudy-white chunk of quartz seemingly floated, interlaced by string, orbited by a wicker halo, a fountain of crow and crimson montawk feathers draping in the wind. Peter got off his horse, tearing up at the distant memory. It had only been a year since then, but it felt like merely a month ago, their time together too short. He cut the sin eater down.

“Of all the places…” He recalled the wagon that usually came through town and collected the sin eaters to bring here every year, but of all places. Of the entire expanse of this forest…

The wind seemed to make the rings throughout the woods around him dance and bounce. He carried the sin eater back to his horse and mounted, up, urging his horse to sprint faster down the path. Paradise awaited him, as it had seemed to a figure draped in black who stood in the shadow of one of the taller dying oak trees, watching as the young boy continued his trial.