chapter 10
previous chapter
As the five Ancients moved through the city, they were completely oblivious to the presence of the messenger watching from the shadows. Not just any messenger of course, but a Messenger with a prominent capital M.
The Messenger of the Ancients was, in fact, a woman. Not a very young woman at all, but a frail-looking old lady, with a head streaked with grey hair, her pale skin wrinkled and making her resemble a very large prune, and a shabby black shawl draped over her shoulders. No skimpy leather outfit here. Obviously, she was not REALLY ordinary: you can't actually claim a title like Messenger of the Ancients if you're just an ordinary old lady, can you? If she had a name, then it was a well-guarded secret, because nobody else knows it. Nobody alive, anyway.
She lived just below the snowline of the Spire, and, like a tortoise, she could move a lot faster than you think. The Messenger had a network of spies acting as her eyes and ears all around the island: actually, they were all middle-aged to not-so-middle-aged ladies, because it's amazing how fast news travels through gossiping elderly aunties. All her agents had radio imps concealed on their bodies, and since nobody would EVER think of body searching an elderly lady armed with an umbrella, it was a very effective way of communication.
The Messenger knew where the Key was, of course, because it was her job to know. It was also her job to inform the Ancients when it was taken, and she did it, but telling the Ancients where the Key was seemed like a bad idea. Something about them wasn't quite right... something she couldn't put her finger on, and it was bothering her.
Above, a black airship cruised towards the Spire.
* * * * *
Seraph and Cantrip were moving in a downwards direction.
The scaffolding had been hastily constructed by the Watchmen, and it was definitely not making the list of the world's top 10 marvels of civil engineering. In fact, it was a long way from making it into the top 100,000, since it rocked and squeaked dangerously in the slightest breeze. Seraph and Cantrip moved with care, guided only by the occasional lantern. Stairs, ladders, more stairs, long platforms, ladders again... and so on.
Bounty hunting was a legal profession on this island, of course. In fact, the Watch positively encouraged bounty hunting, since it kept the number of criminals down and stimulated the local economy. Not everyone can become a good bounty hunter, of course, but anyone is welcome to try. There was no license required: after all, any wannabe bounty hunter who did not quite make the cut were, inevitably, eliminated by their targets. In this job, either you learned very fast, or you stopped learning. Permanently.
Seraph was definitely a quick learner, and he did not intend to be hammered in the chest again. Certainly not by the same spiky metal freako. Nope, he had a Plan, and it will work. And if he keeps repeating that, he might JUST start to believe it really WILL work. He had tackled many stronger foes in his long and illustrious career, and he had survived every single time.
"You're sure about this, aren't you?" asked Cantrip as they clambered down another ladder.
Seraph winced in the half-light. Doubt was a very contagious disease (they don't call it 'plagued by doubt' for no reason), and Cantrip was a walking epidemic of it at the moment. "Of course I am! have some confidence, kid, I wouldn't have survived as a bounty hunter for this long if I was a total idiot, you know," chuckled Seraph with a healthy dose of false bravado.
They continued downwards, and then the scaffolding ended. There, just underneath, was the ruins of the chamber. Cantrip shuddered as he remembered the horrible battle that had taken place here. The remains of the rune circle could be seen in the middle of the room, where the rubble had been cleared. There was no sign of the girl or the monster.
Both of them heaved a sigh of relief.
"By the way... how long HAVE you been a bounty hunter?" asked Cantrip, trying to break the tense mood.
"Oh... about six and a half months now," replied Seraph nonchalantly.
And then the chamber exploded with a very bright light.
* * * * *
The black airship glided into a private hangar, and docked silently with a waiting platform. One part of the cabin slid open and Mr Porpoise stepped out into the world. The bodyguards followed quietly behind, with grim faces that were utterly devoid of any humour.
A stagecoach awaited, and Mr Porpoise stepped in, right on time. A minute later, it was rolling down a specially built path inside the Spire itself, heading for the City.
* * * * *
The first important thing about eyes is that they are strange and squishy little things. They are amazing for looking at things, because that's what they were made for. A human eye may not have the almost 360 degrees field of vision that, say, a fly has, or the telescopic abilities of an eagle, but it was excellent nonetheless under normal conditions. But the second important thing about eyes, is that when there is a strobe of very bright (and unexpected) light after a prolonged period of darkness, they tend to perform rather poorly for some time.
Cantrip and Seraph were blinded by the light screaming madly in their eyes, and stumbled blindly. There was a real scream as Cantrip's feet ran out of platform to stumble around in, and he tumbled over the edge.
Seraph cursed, and covered his eyes with one hand. His vision was completely shot to hell for the moment, and all he could see were bizzare shadows frozen on a white background. Damn...! He fumbled around madly in his tunic, and pulled out a rolled-up velvet cloth, opened it, and dropped something shiny into his palm.
There was a thud as Cantrip hit the ground. Fortunately, the drop was only about eight feet, so he did not instantly end up resembling peanut butter spread across the pavement.
In the center of the circle, the columns of light faded as the girl reappeared. And right beside her was a familiar spiky shape, furiously overflowing with generous amounts of anger and itching for a fight. It pounded the floor and roared through its sealed lips.
Seraph cursed again. Crap, he thought, so Fred was right after all... and now he was stuck in what was basically a deep hole with a murderous metal beast. Good news: he had a Plan this time. Bad news: the best laid plans are rendered useless when you're running around as blind as a headless chicken.
Seraph spun towards the direction of the roar, and forced his eyes open. Through the white haze, he could JUST ABOUT make out the vague shape of the creature. He took a deep breath, and leapt forward...
Parts of his body complained as a sharp pain seared across all his muscles. His chest had barely healed from the blow, and his lungs burned as he shot forward through the dark. Something in his brain veto-ed his body's whinings and complaints, and he continued moving.
Up ahead, he saw the creature's vague shape stirring. Here goes nothing, thought Seraph, and with every ounce of strength in his body, he sped up.
The creature swung a giant fist right into his path, but Seraph twisted and...
The first thing about eyes, is that they are are strange and, importantly, squishy things. As Seraph flew past, he stabbed a pair of very sharp and very specially designed needles into each of the creature's burning eyes.
It was unfortunate that the creature could not scream, because the loud scream of a wounded creature echoing up a deep dark hole would have been very dramatic indeed. And the special thing about the needles was their shape: the sharp point was designed to be the tip of an extremely aerodynamic dart. It would have taken several inches of very strong wood to stop the needle, and apparently, the creature did not have any metal skin inside its head.
The metal creature's head snapped back, and it toppled over just as Seraph's accelerating body hit the rocky floor, coughing up a large cloud of dust. And then the chamber was dark and silent once more.
next chapter
As the five Ancients moved through the city, they were completely oblivious to the presence of the messenger watching from the shadows. Not just any messenger of course, but a Messenger with a prominent capital M.
The Messenger of the Ancients was, in fact, a woman. Not a very young woman at all, but a frail-looking old lady, with a head streaked with grey hair, her pale skin wrinkled and making her resemble a very large prune, and a shabby black shawl draped over her shoulders. No skimpy leather outfit here. Obviously, she was not REALLY ordinary: you can't actually claim a title like Messenger of the Ancients if you're just an ordinary old lady, can you? If she had a name, then it was a well-guarded secret, because nobody else knows it. Nobody alive, anyway.
She lived just below the snowline of the Spire, and, like a tortoise, she could move a lot faster than you think. The Messenger had a network of spies acting as her eyes and ears all around the island: actually, they were all middle-aged to not-so-middle-aged ladies, because it's amazing how fast news travels through gossiping elderly aunties. All her agents had radio imps concealed on their bodies, and since nobody would EVER think of body searching an elderly lady armed with an umbrella, it was a very effective way of communication.
The Messenger knew where the Key was, of course, because it was her job to know. It was also her job to inform the Ancients when it was taken, and she did it, but telling the Ancients where the Key was seemed like a bad idea. Something about them wasn't quite right... something she couldn't put her finger on, and it was bothering her.
Above, a black airship cruised towards the Spire.
* * * * *
Seraph and Cantrip were moving in a downwards direction.
The scaffolding had been hastily constructed by the Watchmen, and it was definitely not making the list of the world's top 10 marvels of civil engineering. In fact, it was a long way from making it into the top 100,000, since it rocked and squeaked dangerously in the slightest breeze. Seraph and Cantrip moved with care, guided only by the occasional lantern. Stairs, ladders, more stairs, long platforms, ladders again... and so on.
Bounty hunting was a legal profession on this island, of course. In fact, the Watch positively encouraged bounty hunting, since it kept the number of criminals down and stimulated the local economy. Not everyone can become a good bounty hunter, of course, but anyone is welcome to try. There was no license required: after all, any wannabe bounty hunter who did not quite make the cut were, inevitably, eliminated by their targets. In this job, either you learned very fast, or you stopped learning. Permanently.
Seraph was definitely a quick learner, and he did not intend to be hammered in the chest again. Certainly not by the same spiky metal freako. Nope, he had a Plan, and it will work. And if he keeps repeating that, he might JUST start to believe it really WILL work. He had tackled many stronger foes in his long and illustrious career, and he had survived every single time.
"You're sure about this, aren't you?" asked Cantrip as they clambered down another ladder.
Seraph winced in the half-light. Doubt was a very contagious disease (they don't call it 'plagued by doubt' for no reason), and Cantrip was a walking epidemic of it at the moment. "Of course I am! have some confidence, kid, I wouldn't have survived as a bounty hunter for this long if I was a total idiot, you know," chuckled Seraph with a healthy dose of false bravado.
They continued downwards, and then the scaffolding ended. There, just underneath, was the ruins of the chamber. Cantrip shuddered as he remembered the horrible battle that had taken place here. The remains of the rune circle could be seen in the middle of the room, where the rubble had been cleared. There was no sign of the girl or the monster.
Both of them heaved a sigh of relief.
"By the way... how long HAVE you been a bounty hunter?" asked Cantrip, trying to break the tense mood.
"Oh... about six and a half months now," replied Seraph nonchalantly.
And then the chamber exploded with a very bright light.
* * * * *
The black airship glided into a private hangar, and docked silently with a waiting platform. One part of the cabin slid open and Mr Porpoise stepped out into the world. The bodyguards followed quietly behind, with grim faces that were utterly devoid of any humour.
A stagecoach awaited, and Mr Porpoise stepped in, right on time. A minute later, it was rolling down a specially built path inside the Spire itself, heading for the City.
* * * * *
The first important thing about eyes is that they are strange and squishy little things. They are amazing for looking at things, because that's what they were made for. A human eye may not have the almost 360 degrees field of vision that, say, a fly has, or the telescopic abilities of an eagle, but it was excellent nonetheless under normal conditions. But the second important thing about eyes, is that when there is a strobe of very bright (and unexpected) light after a prolonged period of darkness, they tend to perform rather poorly for some time.
Cantrip and Seraph were blinded by the light screaming madly in their eyes, and stumbled blindly. There was a real scream as Cantrip's feet ran out of platform to stumble around in, and he tumbled over the edge.
Seraph cursed, and covered his eyes with one hand. His vision was completely shot to hell for the moment, and all he could see were bizzare shadows frozen on a white background. Damn...! He fumbled around madly in his tunic, and pulled out a rolled-up velvet cloth, opened it, and dropped something shiny into his palm.
There was a thud as Cantrip hit the ground. Fortunately, the drop was only about eight feet, so he did not instantly end up resembling peanut butter spread across the pavement.
In the center of the circle, the columns of light faded as the girl reappeared. And right beside her was a familiar spiky shape, furiously overflowing with generous amounts of anger and itching for a fight. It pounded the floor and roared through its sealed lips.
Seraph cursed again. Crap, he thought, so Fred was right after all... and now he was stuck in what was basically a deep hole with a murderous metal beast. Good news: he had a Plan this time. Bad news: the best laid plans are rendered useless when you're running around as blind as a headless chicken.
Seraph spun towards the direction of the roar, and forced his eyes open. Through the white haze, he could JUST ABOUT make out the vague shape of the creature. He took a deep breath, and leapt forward...
Parts of his body complained as a sharp pain seared across all his muscles. His chest had barely healed from the blow, and his lungs burned as he shot forward through the dark. Something in his brain veto-ed his body's whinings and complaints, and he continued moving.
Up ahead, he saw the creature's vague shape stirring. Here goes nothing, thought Seraph, and with every ounce of strength in his body, he sped up.
The creature swung a giant fist right into his path, but Seraph twisted and...
The first thing about eyes, is that they are are strange and, importantly, squishy things. As Seraph flew past, he stabbed a pair of very sharp and very specially designed needles into each of the creature's burning eyes.
It was unfortunate that the creature could not scream, because the loud scream of a wounded creature echoing up a deep dark hole would have been very dramatic indeed. And the special thing about the needles was their shape: the sharp point was designed to be the tip of an extremely aerodynamic dart. It would have taken several inches of very strong wood to stop the needle, and apparently, the creature did not have any metal skin inside its head.
The metal creature's head snapped back, and it toppled over just as Seraph's accelerating body hit the rocky floor, coughing up a large cloud of dust. And then the chamber was dark and silent once more.
next chapter
posted by nerdook at 10:33 PM
2 Comments:
Hi,
I'm another fellow Nanowrimo-er.
Wows... you've covered so many words already! Congrats...
Looks like great stuff :)
hey thanks... :)
actually i'm a bit behind, trying to catch up again over the weekend, phew... all the best to you!! :P
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