《Top The Tower: Tarot, Travel, Paint and People [Slice-of-Life Adventure]》


 Chapter 1 - The Veil

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    I sat against the wall of my cell with my knees to my chest. Cold air wrapped around my shivering form. I cursed myself.


    My escape attempts had all failed. I''d lost my to a cot, a coat, anything I could use to try and break out. Now, I had stone walls, shackles, and a barred window that welcomed the winter wind like an old friend.


    my teeth clattered as I shouted to my guard and caretaker,


    I Looked down at my trembling hands and wished that was how my Ambrosia worked, but it wasn''t. Glimmin was well aware I couldn''t paint the cold iron of my shackles, that the liquid would bead and drip off them like water off oil. If it hadn''t, I''d have coated them in bread paint and slipped out of them long ago.


    Wind whistled through my window; the sight beyond it both excited and taunted me. The Tower, that titanic, white-stone monolith that rose into the clouds. It was wreathed in the electric blue light of the ley lines that snaked across its form. It was my father''s greatest ambition, Topping The Tower. I would beat him to it.


    Calling again from Glimmin, I said,


    It took a long while before the shutters on my cell door slid open. I lifted my head and surveyed the young man behind it through my roughly shorn auburn hair.


    The brow of Glimmin''s clean-shaven face was furrowed, taking in my sad state. he said, the nickname he''d given me had long since lost its bite. He wasn''t angry; there was a touch of concern in his voice.


    Glimmin was more rival than foe. He had to keep me here, and I had to escape. I''d been bested by him many times, but I only had to win once. My father''s wrath would be upon him when that happened, but I wouldn''t pity the guard. It was part of our game, and I''d suffered enough losses.


    I shuffled along the wall, my chains clattering aside me until I''d maximized the distance between us.


    His key slid into the lock with a jagged metal clamor. The rusted hinges of the iron door screeched as he stepped from behind it. Draping his right arm was a rough wool blanket dyed the deep purple of a terrible bruise; that color was the mark of my father''s Warband and was ever-present across the Keep.


    In his other hand was a wooden bowl of steaming lamb''s head soup. As a child, I''d turned my nose up at the concoction; in my current state, it was taking all I had not to spring across the cell. The only thing holding me back was the thought of Glimin dropping the bowl in panic.


    Savory, herby notes met my nostrils, and my eyes began to water,


    He turned his head to hide the curve of a smile spreading across his lips,


    I said, my eyes tightening to a scowl, dislodging tears that warmed my cheeks,


    His gaze dropped to the bowl and blanket,


    I wiped an arm across my face, my breath hitching. That wasn''t a deal I wanted to make, I asked.


    Glimin''s thumb picked at the blanket''s rough fabric, he said, bending down to place his gifts on the floor,


    Springing to my feet and giving him a moment to retreat, I descended on the provisions.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    I threw the blanket across my back and huddled over the fuming bowl, basking in its warmth.


    Glimin watched through the door shutters, he chuckled.


    I sighed; the edge of my voice had fled. My numb fingers were beginning to awaken in a storm of pins and needles.


    he said,


    I asked, huffing steam.


    He exclaimed, hesitating to respond.


    I asked, incredulous, and brought the sloshing bowl to my lips. The broth felt fiery hot against them, but I didn''t care. The warm, salty liquid was a hearth for my soul to bask beside, its gamey smoke curling with notes of onion, cardamom, and black pepper.


    I slurped again at it, the chew of a string of meat soothing my chatter-weary teeth.


    He was still silent, his eyes pinned against the wall of the cell to my side, refusing to look at me.


    I continued through a mouthful,


    he said, receding past the edge of the shutters; they clicked closed.


    What the hell was up with him? The ungrateful prick, men never cooked; getting that sort of praise from a girl should have been a great honor.


    I savored every drop, licking the bowl clean, and wrapped the blanket tight around my shoulders. The cold and gray of my cell''s stone walls pressed back in on me. This reprieve would, of course, be short-lived.


    It had been a long time since I''d had new colors to work with; the gray of my overalls was an exact match to the Keep''s stone, a cruel joke of my father''s. What could I do with the charming walnut brown of the bowl and the purple, which I hated, of the blanket?


    My mind set to work. All that I wanted, desperately wanted, was escape. If only I could get out of this cell, pay my father a well-deserved ass-whooping, reclaim my brother Cline, and set about my climb...


    An image began to form within my mind: a wavering curtain of purple fabric suspended from a walnut-brown wooden rod. I imagined myself slipping behind it, never to return.


    I placed the empty bowl in front of me and closed my eyes.


    My breath slowed, and I focused on the image in my mind, letting it fill the dark corners of my cell. The idea of escape felt like a flicker of light, fragile and fleeting. I reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing the rough rim of the wooden bowl.


    Taking a deep breath, I plunged my hand into it, imagining the rich, walnut-brown paint pooling in my palm. Withdrawing it, I opened my eyes. The paint dripped thick and dark from my fingers, glistening in the ley-lines light through my window.


    Behind it, the inside of the bowl was the stark white of a blank canvas. My heart pounded with a frantic rhythm as I turned to the wall.


    I stroked a bold line across the cold stone wall. It spread like ink on parchment, its edges uneven. Using my fingers, I added more and more detail, forming it into the sort of sturdy beam my father¡¯s banners hung from. Stroke by stroke, the rod took form.


    I didn¡¯t stop. Pulling off the blanket, I Dragged my hands through it, gathering the purple I needed for thick folds of fabric. It felt wrong to use the warband''s color, but as the curtain took shape, I began to enjoy the irony. Using a mark of his oppression as a means of escape, I knew it was only a dream, but hope still swelled within me.


    My work was coming together; the basic form was there, but I wanted to perfect it. I pulled batch after batch of fresh purple paint from the blanket, leaving it striped like a tiger''s pelt.


    It took my frigid hands some time to realize the familiar scrape of the rough wall was missing; It had bizarrely developed a sort of give. I pulled back in surprise and saw it: the fabric I''d painted was rippling beneath the touch of the wind. It was moving. Rippling. My work had never done that before. Was this real?


    I froze, staring at the living image. A gust tore into the room, and the fabric fluttered.


    Pressing my hand against it, I expected the illusion to break, but the fabric yielded, sinking under my touch. My chains clattered as I leaned closer; the sound was distant in my ears. My fingers slipped through, past the slit at the curtain''s center, into an expanse of warm, dark nothingness.


    My heart thundered as the realization set in. I could step through, maybe even leave. What waited on the other side? The hallway and Glimmin''s desk? Somewhere completely different?


    For a moment, fear gripped me. What if I couldn''t come back? What about my brother Cline? Could I truly escape the Keep and my father¡¯s scorn?


    I looked around the cell, the bleak stone walls that had been my prison for years. My hands clenched into fists. The time for hesitation had long passed; I would find a way out.


    Donning my white and purple tiger pelt, my bare foot padded past the painted veil.

 Chapter 2 - Arrival

    RHODY


    My place in Ablee¡¯s story began at the side of a boisterous assassin named Zeph. I was a girl of 16 years, and I knew that I was out of my depth. It''s only appropriate that things began with a blunder, a taste of many more to come. I was plummeting to my death.


    Zeph and I had spent the day ascending a mountain path. The village of Row lay ahead of us, a small settlement nestled in the valley between the Long Fang Peaks. An imposing keep, Zeph''s and my destination, loomed above it; those sleek twin summits curved around it like the maw of a monumental viper.


    The pine-scented mountain air was thin, and the trail behind us was long, winding, and sharply inclined. I had stolen a glance over my shoulder to see how far we''d come. The sheer drop behind me was dizzying; vertigo slammed the side of my head like one of the sacks of potatoes I''d peeled daily back at the temple.


    Trying to reorient myself, I twisted my body. The chestnut leather pack I was muling, full of Zeph''s belongings, pulled my feet from the ground. The thing must have weighed ten stone, looking like it was specially crafted for a traveling strongman. I watched in horror as the path''s ledge pulled away beneath me.


    Why couldn''t I have fallen hours ago? It seemed the gods wanted to watch me toil one last time before thrusting this moronic end upon me.


    Zeph''s irked expression caught my eye. Was she disappointed in me, or the fact she''d have to find a way to fish up the pack? Why did I care? Why was I wasting my final thoughts on this?


    I felt the grip of her strong, yet soft, hands around my ankle before my mind registered she''d moved. Her heels planted in front of her, and she wrenched her chest to the side, wheeling me through the air and back onto the gravel path.


    "Is that how you plan to survive the evening, Rhody?" she asked with a wry smile. It seemed watching me flail was the night''s entertainment.


    Great job, idiot, I admonished myself. This was sure to make the worst kind of lasting impression.


    My face was red as the pouch that hung from the silver chain around my neck. It contained my Royal Tarot Deck, the only reason I was worthy of the honor of traveling beside her. The locks of my inky-blue hair clung to the sides of my sweat-drenched, cherry-red face. I must have looked like the flag of a defeated nation.


    Zeph, Miss Cool and Collected, stood in stark contrast. Her appearance was immaculate. Maintaining it, lugging her wardrobe, clothes-iron, makeup kit, and ammunition, had somehow become my divinely appointed duty.


    She was so many of the things I aspired to be: brave, driven, charismatic, and self-assured. Climbing the mountain, I''d kept my eyes glued to her. She paraded up it in supreme confidence. Dressed in all black, a flat-brimmed hat crowned her tall frame, her blonde hair flowing in wild disarray beneath it. The designer outfit she wore was glaringly expensive. Its blouse sported a plunging, collared neckline and billowing unbuttoned sleeves. A long cape draped across her back rippled in her wake, and It''d taken me five attempts to put an acceptable pleat into the pants that hugged the athletic curve of her hips.


    The features of her face were, naturally, as sharp as her ensemble. Her dramatic makeup would have been more at home in a stage production than on a hunt, but somehow, she made it work in this environment.


    I trailed behind her in my drab, gray woolen robes, adjusting the leather straps that dug into my shoulders. The chain around my neck swung back and forth beneath my hunched form as I trudged onward.


    As we drew upon the town, I dwelled upon my mistake. This wasn''t the only first impression I''d screwed up; the last had been disastrous, costing me years¡­


    <hr>


    The King of Wands Temple buzzed with life the day I first laid eyes on a Royal Tarot Deck, the springtime Festival of Budding Branches. I was nine years old and rail-thin, selling pastries in the courtyard of the King of Wands Temple.


    Its spires pierced the sky, their intricate carvings gleaming in the sunlight. Tattered pink banners, once a rich crimson, rippled in the cool breeze; the King¡¯s golden emblem foiled upon them, a staff wreathed in flames, had largely leafed away.


    My patched dress hung loosely, and my tangled hair concealed wide, dirt-smudged eyes. I was barefoot, calloused toes gripping the stone as I leaned forward, peeking at the scene before me. Our temple''s Acolyte had returned from his travels, his pack full of exotic artifacts, gifts from the peoples he''d visited. He stood at the courtyard''s center, an excited crowd surrounding him. His deck gleamed like treasure on a cloth-topped bench. As he revealed each card, it caught the sun''s light in a flash.


    The crowd was gripped as he performed readings for those lucky enough to draw his attention. His calm voice belied secrets as though he recited from the gods¡¯ own manuscript. My breath caught¡ªawed, envious, yearning.


    From that day forward, my dreams were steeped in the allure of fate¡¯s mysteries. Every moment I wasn¡¯t working¡ªscrubbing the temple floors or hauling water for the priests¡ªI spent in the temple''s back alley, reading the faces of the other kids, watching for the twitch of an eyelid or the telltale quirk of the mouth. I wagered and bluffed, mastering another deck of cards. Five-card draw became my second language. With it, I worked toward affording a third, a used deck of ordinary tarot cards from a second-hand store. One I could use to practice, to someday earn the real thing, a Royal deck.


    I knew what I could read from others and, by extension, they from me. My next step was to mask those parts of myself. I lied to everyone: the priests, our caretakers, shopkeeps, and urchin-weary travelers. I wasn''t trying to steal, just misdirect them, get something past them.


    Pretty soon I could dead-pan, keep a smile from my lips while spinning a yarn. I realized, though, that I''d subtracted too much; something was needed in its place, a toss of the eyes, an illusory sharp breath when I wanted to "hide" something, a thumb picking at the dingy fabric of my skirt.


    Word of my antics had spread; one of the other children, unable to contain their anger over a lost silver penny, had alerted the clergy. I''d expected a sharp reprimand and a caning, but what I got was an invitation to a table of robed holy men glugging red wine. I left with an empty coin pouch, a suitable punishment in their eyes, but I didn''t mind. That evening was an investment, a price paid to listen to them speak of cards and numbers, of probability.


    The concept of fate had been drilled into me over years of sermons; I knew some things were just bound to happen, but I hadn''t understood why.


    In my back alley arena, playing other orphans for eights-pence, I was a champion. Most of those kids hardly knew what the numbers on the cards represented or what the word "probability" meant. However, the game started to feel less like sport and more like predation. The other orphans no longer wanted to play with me, and I no longer enjoyed taking their hard-earned coin.


    I spent less time with my peers and more in the market, sharking travelers and lining my pockets. Scraping together my winnings, I went to purchase that battered old deck.


    The shopkeep, an older woman who smelt of burnt sage, tried to refuse me its sale, asking "Those priests didn''t teach you a bought deck''ll bring bad luck?" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I pressed her. Yes, I''d heard the myth, but the clergy sold cards at a much higher price and were staunch that any "bad luck" was something the purchaser had already brought upon themself. Besides, I had no one to gift me a deck. Tugging at heartstrings was a lie I''d gotten down pat, and I made the transaction happen.


    <hr>


    The next Spring, I received bittersweet news in the announcement of a contest. The temple would be taking on another acolyte. The young man I''d watched with hallowed reverence, the previous Acolyte, had left the position vacant in a tragic incident.


    The ritual that manifested a Royal Tarot Deck was an expensive process for my temple. As a result, Acolyte positions didn¡¯t open often and were reserved for youth, who had more time to train and maximize the investment made in them. Knowing this might be my only chance to claim my dream, I gave it everything I had.


    The test was composed of three demonstrations: reciting scripture, reading tarot, and performing acrobatics. They were meant to gauge our readiness for serving a congregation, interpreting the gods'' wills, and the perils of the road.


    I studied any materials I could get my hands on and drilled gymnastics routines until my muscles screamed. Even then, I felt a gap growing between myself and the other contestants¡ª many of which were children from wealthy families, who had tutors and training, and whose cards weren¡¯t scuffed and peeling like my own.


    There were 78 of us. We had a good idea of who would end up claiming the title. Brenna. Sweet, perfect Brenna, all pink clothes and ribbons. Somehow, we''d developed a friendship over numerous lazy Sunday afternoons. Since the position had opened, she had become my jealous obsession. Each of the contest''s three aspects was just a part of who she was. She didn''t train; she just showed up and socialized.


    I''d used to look up to her; now I saw her as a cliff to summit.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to push yourself so hard, Rhody,¡± She said after practice one day, offering a hand to pull me out of yet another failed cartwheel. ¡°Don''t worry, it¡¯s okay if this isn¡¯t for you. You''re great at cards!¡±


    I smiled at her through clenched teeth, my palms burning from the rough stone. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    But I wasn¡¯t; my shameful, used, stained deck of cards was cursed. How else could I have been so good at poker and so terrible at all of this? In my desperation, I''d committed a taboo act, used ill-gotten gains, and drawn fate''s ire upon me.


    When the test came, my readings faltered. I couldn¡¯t remember the second half of the passage I''d tried to memorize, and my gymnastics routine ended with me lying on my back. I came in last, dead last, my performance so poor that Father Herus didn¡¯t even bother to tally a score. That would have only added to my humiliation.


    Brenna was chosen, of course. I watched her ascend to the altar, radiating pride, draped in the robes I wore in my dreams. The Royal Tarot Deck in her hands was a testament to my poor decision-making. The bitter knot in my throat burned worse than failure. Brenna hardly even tried.


    <hr>


    I wasn''t done, though; over the next three years, I continued to push myself, hoping desperately for another chance. I begged Brenna for the second, lesser deck of cards she no longer needed. I pleaded with her to share insights on her training so I could try to replicate them with my limited resources.


    The conversation always went the same way. "Rhody, you''re thirteen... another year, and you won''t even be eligible..." she would say, trying to dissuade me. "Besides, it''s not as great as it seems."


    That Fall, she disappeared, leaving nothing but a note in her chambers. The temple elders released a statement that she had taken a pilgrimage, but I knew she wouldn¡¯t be coming back. Brenna had loved the idea of being an acolyte, but it didn¡¯t challenge her. She¡¯d grown bored.


    When the temple elders sought a replacement, my name wasn¡¯t even whispered. I''d failed too spectacularly. The others snickered behind my back, calling me "table scraps.¡± Even Father Herus, who indulged my endless questions about fate and the gods, only seemed to pity me.


    I refused to give up, pouring myself into my training and cutting all frivolities from my life. My readings grew sharper, and my interpretations more profound. Still, the clergy dismissed me. I''d had my chance, and I''d failed.


    The list of potential replacements dwindled; many had moved on to other pursuits. Some accepted, lasting a week, two weeks, a month, finding the training either too rigorous or too mundane. When the final name was crossed off that list, I remained, not even a last resort.


    A small package arrived in the weeks following, wrapped in ribbon and pink cloth. I knew immediately who had sent it, and I hated her for it. The shape of it was unmistakable, a deck of cards. Begrudgingly, I discarded its wrapping. They were, of course, pristine, backed in a brilliant sunburst of blue and orange. I closed my eyes. I didn''t want to see my ruddy fingers juxtaposed against something so... so... unlike me.


    Flipping the top card over, I set it face up on my cot and wrapped my arms around my back before daring to look at it. A wise man on a throne with a blooming branch in his outstretched hand, The King of Wands, stared back at me. The message was clear: This wasn¡¯t over.


    <hr>


    Father Herus¡¯s vice was no secret. The old priest, with his stooped shoulders and threadbare cassock, loved gambling as much as he loved to preach. His wispy gray hair never stayed combed, and his sunken eyes, perpetually shadowed, gave him the air of a man who wrestled nightly with his conscience¡ªand usually lost. His cracked fingers often fiddled with a weathered coin, his good luck charm, as he recounted tales of divine wisdom from the pulpit with a charm that belied his failing stature. Yet, at the poker table, his charisma faltered.


    Over the years, I had played countless hands with him, learning his tells¡ªthe way his eyebrows furrowed when he bluffed, how his breath hitched a moment too long when holding a strong hand. When our weekly sessions first started, he would lose a few coins, chuckle at his folly, and wave me off with a self-deprecating grin.


    Lately, his losses had grown larger, the laugh-drawn lines around his mouth giving way to deeper creases of worry. His coin purse hung too light on his belt. Each ante seemed like a prayer for deliverance that our god refused to answer.


    I knew the Acolyte position was still vacant. And I knew they would never offer it to me. Unless¡­


    <hr>


    I shuffled the deck of playing cards, riffling them with a satisfying hiss. Five cards each, I dealt them with practiced and deliberate grace. Across the table, he rubbed his temples, his stack of coins pitifully small.


    ¡°This is a terrible idea,¡± he muttered, fanning out his cards. His expression tightened, but I spotted that telltale furrow of his brow. A bluff.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I responded, rearranging my hand. ¡°But here we are.¡±


    He groaned as I threw more coin to the table''s center. ¡°You¡¯re relentless.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what makes me good,¡± My tone was calm, my gaze sharp as I discarded a card and drew its replacement.


    He hesitated, then discarded two cards with a sigh. The pot grew as we upped the stakes. Finally, the moment came to lay down our cards.


    He revealed his hand first. ¡°Queen high straight,¡± he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "What ya got?"


    ¡°Nice," my grin was slow and deliberate as I flipped my cards. ¡°but not nice enough.¡± Three Jacks and two sevens lay in front of me. "Full house. I know you love those, Mr. Preacher."


    He leaned back in his chair, loosing another heartbreaking harumph. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding me dry,¡± he muttered, his eyes growing wet.


    ¡°How about a wager?¡± I offered, gathering the cards to shuffle.


    I could see his hesitation, running his hands over his wrinkled cheeks, "I don''t have much more to give you..."


    My patchwork book satchel hid a hefty leather sack; I pulled it free and set it on the table. "Your last three months'' losses, one hand. I don''t want any more of your money."


    His hands were shaking as he brought them to the table. A good sign. ¡°What... what do you want in return?¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°I want to be an Acolyte,¡± I said, dealing another hand. ¡°If I win, you''ll back me. Convince the rest of the clergy that I can handle it.¡±


    Father Herus froze, his face tightening. ¡°Rhody, I can''t¡ª¡± he said, "It... It wouldn''t be a good fit for you."


    "You''re wrong," My voice strained, and I broke my expertly-crafted demeanor. "I know what happened in that contest, but I''ve come so far since then. I''m better than Brenna. I actually care about this."


    His eyes narrowed upon me. "It''d be an abuse of my position..."


    "Either way, I''ll give you your money back," I interrupted. ¡°If you win, I¡¯ll give up on the temple. I''ll find something else."


    He let out a sigh that carried the weight of resignation and picked up his cards.


    <hr>


    Zeph continued her unbothered strut toward danger as I waded neck-deep in a river of shame. Why was I still screwing up like this? How could I have fallen off a damn mountain? I trained for years in acrobatics. My fingers picked, anxious, against the clasp of my red pouch. Realization struck, and my eyes widened. my breath caught in my throat.


    I wasn''t gifted this deck.


    I''d bought it.

 Chapter 3 - Scallywag

    ABLEE


    The soft, creaking floor beneath my foot felt so strange after years of treading stone. A giddy chuckle bubbled up my throat. It was dark here and so warm.


    The soft, sleepy smell of smoke curled in the air. Flickering firelight beckoned me from somewhere deep within the structure. I could have curled up on those floorboards and gotten my best rest in years if pure excitement hadn''t been coursing through me.


    Wisps of the cool mountain breeze drafted from behind, and the sound of clinking glass bottles came from ahead, followed by a hoarse man''s voice, "Ey'' now, is that a draft!? What a novel concept!"


    Someone was here?! How?!


    I quickened my pace, my toes bouncing off the floor. Pop. Pop. Pop. "HEY!" I shouted.


    There was a crash and a clinking riot like a wind chime in a cyclone, "Uah-huh!?" the man''s startled voice replied.


    I was too giddy to notice as my chains rose behind me; their shackles yanked my wrists, and my feet left the floor, rising higher and higher as my back slammed into the ground. My breath left me, and as I struggled to drag it back in, light cut across the room from a door flung open.


    The flame-backed form of a pirate met my gaze: tricorn hat, overcoat, and the handles of a cutlass and flintlock pistol poking from his sides. There was something off about the scene''s lighting; it filtered through the edges of his form and the door frame, like peeks of canvas through a work''s first brush strokes.


    "A-a pirate!" I said, bucking my legs beneath me, trying to push myself back where the chains weren''t quite as taut, "This is the greatest!"


    "Well now," he said, leaning against the door-frame, "wasn''t expecting company."


    I finally gathered enough slack to rise to my feet. Looming behind the pirate was a cabin scene suited for the cover of an adventure comic, the kind that''d have a skeleton''s arm hanging from a loose attic door. Its floor was a mosaic of empty emerald-green and jasper-brown bottles, filtering the glow of a stacked stone fireplace. Its shifting flames appeared to be nothing more than a series of glowing images, each replacing the last at a speed my eye could barely track. Looking up at his shadowed face, I asked, "Who are you? Where are we!?"


    "Pinbeard, lass..." He straightened up and grabbed at the corner of his hat, trudging toward me, "...Captain and sole resident of this painted brig." He turned to look back at his litter-strewn domain, his long spike goatee bobbing with each word.


    "What, THE Pinbeard?" I asked, "How''d you end up here? Aren''t you supposed to be dead?!" I reached out and slapped his goatee, rattling it like the end of a rapier, SPROINGGGG. He was like a character from a children''s book; a laugh pulled itself from me, "Ha-haha!"


    "Ey!" He recoiled, swatting my hand from striking it again, "Aye, I''m THE Pinbeard, or as close as ye''ll find." He turned away in a scowl, grabbing hold of the end of his goatee, his hand shaking to a stop.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Hmph, okay then, I need answers, Pinbeard!" He was a cross-hatch of brushwork, a painting of a weathered sailor who breathed, his rum-blushed cheeks the red of wildflowers. I grabbed the sleeve of his ruddy, orange leather jacket. It felt real. "What is this place? Why are you here?"


    He cleared his throat, a sound like churning wet gravel. The white lines of spittle between his yellow teeth were something I''d struggle to depict. Whoever painted him, if he was really painted, was good.


    He leveled his eyes, their whites matching the yellow of his teeth, down his nose at me, "It''s a place for forgotten things." He glanced down at my tattered over-alls and the chains hanging from my unwashed arms, "Suppose ye'' meet the requirements."


    "What?!" His remark lit inside me like a torch to a haybale, and I slammed my palms into his chest, "Don''t act like you know who I am!"


    He veered lazily behind my strike, turning in a full circle and rounding about with his flintlock pistol drawn, "Ye''r hardly a mystery."


    He only held it level at me long enough to imply what he could have done. Then, he returned to the fire-lit room and lowered himself into a rugged wooden chair. Plucking a half-full rum bottle from the table beside him, he took a long swig. I glowered at him.


    "Looks like ye''r real blood and fire, redhead, not an imitation. I''d garner a guess on what brought you here, runnin'' from somethin'', right?"


    Despite the resentment burning within me, I couldn''t stop myself from nodding.


    "Well ye''ve found another dead end..." he said and huffed. Leaning back and propping his chair onto two legs, with his back against the wall, he continued, "...nothin'' here for ya besides a picture of a long-passed sea-dog."


    "Shut up!" I yanked against my chains, and my arms dragged behind me. The pirate was now well out of reach, "If there''s no other exit, I''ll just leave through the Keep. Give me your sword and pistol."


    "Heh, that wouldn''t help ye'' girl, even if I was inclined to do so." He waved his bottle toward the painted curtain on the wall behind me. billowing in the cool breeze, "Ye'' won''t be taking anything beyond that drape that ye'' didn''t bring in yerself."


    "That''s one of the rules... of this place?" I asked, this useless pirate was holding out on me, "So you do know more, spill it!"


    He stroked his chin, pausing to think, "That drape, it''s yer work, right? No one else made it for ye?"


    "Yeah, that''s right, very life-like, I''d say."


    "Then I suppose some explanation is in order..." Bang! He was cut off by the sound of a gunshot from beyond the curtain, and then another, moments later.


    My thoughts drove straight to my brother Cline; he had to still be here in the Keep. He could be in danger, and I had no time to bargain with Pinbeard, "Damnit, I''ve got to get out of here; just help me!"


    He stood and trudged to my side, snatching the chain on my right wrist and bringing it up to his eyes.


    I nodded, "Yeah, we need to get rid of these! Not sure what to do with ''em; paint just slides right off," wet paint did, at least. My eyes dropped to the pistol on his hip.


    "Aye, think I''ve got a file ''round here somewhere..." He said, releasing my chain. More gunshots reverberated from beyond my cell.


    "No time!" I grabbed the handle of his flintlock, pulling it loose and rushing away from him as my other hand bundled my chains.


    "Hey now, lass, wait a second..." He stumbled forward, reaching for his weapon. I didn''t falter; my left hand was wrapped in layers of chain; Pinbeard was rushing me, "...I''ve only got one¡ª!" he shouted.


    I pointed the barrel to the bundled links atop my left hand, gritting my teeth. I would have begged the fates not to cripple me... if there''d been a moment for it.

 Chapter 4 - Ambition

    ZEPH


    "Let''s keep it moving, Rhody!" I shouted, rushing into the middle of another grouping of Row''s patrolmen. The girl held my silver revolver, Applause, and was fumbling at the task of reloading it. Coming from all around, wild spear stabs were easy enough for me to dodge and redirect. I weaved my way through them, allowing instinct to take over as I turned my focus to The Acolyte.


    "S-sorry!" she replied as yet another cartridge dropped and hit the ground in a puff of dust. Seriously?


    My shoulders pulled back as a spearshaft flashed in front of my eyes. When I realized its presence, my hands were already upon it, wrenching it from its owner''s grip. I whipped about, striking its other end into the jaw of a flanking attacker. The woman went reeling, a flash of crimson spittle streaking from her open mouth.


    What was wrong with the blue-haired girl? Was she battle-weary? That priest, Father Herus, had claimed her resourceful; he''d said the job would be half as hard with her along. As if that made up for the fact he was offering a third of my going rate.


    An opening appeared; a very young patrolman, a whelp devoid of facial hair, overextended himself, exposing the back of his neck to a wicked elbow strike. His limbs shook violently as he went to the ground. Nerve damage?


    The King of Wands Temple had gotten ahold of me as I was running out of leads for work. Maybe they were as fate-blessed as they claimed?


    If that were so, they could have afforded to pay me more. I''d tried playing hardball with them and came away convinced Rhody''s help was truly all they could offer to sweeten the pot. Why else would they assign such an unprepared girl to such a dangerous errand? My current mark, Karich Urough, was a renowned terror in combat, had consumed Ambrosia, and commanded a sizable warband.


    I was surprised when they met with me about the mark. Of course, I''m capable, but my record didn''t speak to that. I''d spent the past two years working to correct it, taking on the greatest challenges any employer would dare to give me.


    I wound up agreeing to Rhody''s company. Worst case, I thought, I''d have someone to carry my luggage. Best to slow her down with that ridiculous pack and let it keep her out of harm''s way. I was starting to second-guess myself, though, after she''d tried to scatter herself and my belongings down a mountainside.


    My eyes caught on Applause in her trembling hands, four rounds loaded. "That''s enough!" I shouted to her, raising an open palm above the rabble and pounding my mirror-polished black boot into a patrolman''s chest. He fell back, tripping over one of his fellows. "Come on you rabble, that the best you''ve got!?"


    Applause careened through the air, off-course. I rushed forward, sidestepping a series of stabbing spearpoints, claiming three steps of contested territory, and snatching my silver six-shooter from the air.


    My meandering focus shrunk, shrunk, shrunk to a pin-point. The shaft of the incoming spear drove toward my chest, one inch behind its tip; my gun hand snaked up, barrel pointing to it, and fired, blowing the spearhead off in a shower of splinters. Everything sped around me as I spun into the remains of the patrol, the sharp crack of Applause¡¯s shots punctuating a tempo.


    BANG!


    BANG!


    A beat, a hum, rose in my throat. That sound long buried. The music of my memories stirred within me like the forgotten voice of a friend...


    <hr>


    Dust swirled through a sleepy western town.


    Rows of clapboard houses and sun-starched ground.


    Not one bar brawl, shoot-out, or skull,


    So damn monotonous and dull.


    From within a squat white-walled home, a door banged open.


    Out I stomped¡ªa girl of thirteen years and three days¡ªblack hat askew, a wooden BB pistol gripped in my hand. My golden hair curled out wild and untamed as I glared down the empty street.


    A wagon wheel creaked. A dog barked in the distance.


    I sang, my voice bright but clipped; I was like a fire locked in a cage, words hitting like sparks that popped in the stale air.


    ¡°Another day¡ª,


    Another yawn,


    and here''s this tiresome town at dawn.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.The blacksmith bangs,


    The cowboys hum,


    Makes me wish I was blue and numb.¡±


    I marched forward, my pistol swinging in rhythm with my steps, stomping purposefully on every beat. A tumbleweed rolled lazily into my path, and I sent it flying with a sharp kick.


    The street bustled to life. Men tipped their hats. Mothers swept porches. Children chased each other through clouds of dust, singing out snatches of melody that harmonized with my own. A rancher strummed a banjo lazily on the steps of the saloon, adding twang to the town¡¯s sluggish tune.


    As I strode into the street, everyone around began to sway and move to the plodding harmony. Their voices blended like a creaking wagon train across a rutted trail.


    ¡°Mornin¡¯, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Howdy, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Don''t your swine need to be fed?¡±


    ¡°Ey there, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Look ''ere, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let those dreams get to your head.¡±


    I spun dramatically, my arms thrown wide, and my frustration bled into a grin. The children nearby mimicked me, twirling clumsily, their laughter cutting through the dusty melody.


    ¡°Well isn''t this swell?


    It¡¯s still the same!


    The world goes on¡ªwhy have a name?


    A butcher cuts,


    A cobbler kneels,


    Like dirt stamped under wagon wheels.¡±


    I raised and twirled my BB pistol, striking a pose before hoisting it into the air.


    ¡°Bandits wait beyond that ridge,¡±


    POP! The BB pistol fired.


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet them all atop the bridge!


    A bounty high,


    A legend made,


    To claim a mark''s¡ªthe grandest trade!¡±


    The banjo plucked a cheeky tune as shopkeepers muttered and shook their heads, wiping their brows or folding their arms in choreographed exasperation. A baker, hands streaked with flour, clapped a rhythm as he wiped his apron in time with the beat.


    ¡°She¡¯s mad,


    A loon,


    A girl with no sense.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d shoot out,


    her eye,


    If given a chance.¡±


    The town choir swelled, swaying and rolling their eyes in perfect unison. Children mimed exaggerated gun battles, throwing themselves to the ground, felled by imaginary bullets. I continued to the general store, my eyes glued to the silver-plated revolver in the window. Its tag gleamed like a beacon: fifteen dollars.


    ¡°Guns and assassins,


    What nonsense she¡¯ll spew!


    But chores will remind her¡ª


    Life¡¯s work is the glue.¡±


    I spun on my heel, brandishing my pistol and marching up to a trio of gossiping women with wicker baskets. The women shifted their stances in a practiced waltz; their noses tilted skyward. I raised my voice to confront them.


    ¡°The trick-shooter! She told me how¡ª


    Assassin''s work! I want it now!


    With perfect aim,


    With iron will,


    I¡¯ll climb my way atop that hill!¡±


    I belted the line and leaped atop a barrel. The banjoist struck a dramatic chord as I sang of my imagined future. My shadow stretched long in the golden light, and I gestured toward the horizon as if drawing my dreams across the sky.


    ¡°I see it there¡ª


    The world¡¯s dark edge.


    Beyond that fence.


    Beyond that hedge.


    Where shadows pool and steel burns hot,


    You''ll find me there¡ªtaking my SHOT¡ª.¡±


    I pulled the crumpled, hand-drawn wanted poster from my coat and waved it high like a battle flag. The other children danced around my barrel in a mocking circle, laughing and pointing, but I continued,


    ¡°Trick-Shot Legend, Assassin Queen!


    Her pistol bright with silver sheen.


    The page will turn; their jaws will drop.


    And Zeph¡¯ll climb¡ª


    And Zeph¡¯ll top¡ª.¡±


    I took on a triumphant pose, my hat tipped low as the last note rang out.


    The laughter faded, and the townsfolk scattered back to their daily routines, their movements a dull echo of the earlier harmony.


    "Girl needs to pull her weight. Have ya seen the state of her ma''s ranch?" someone muttered, tipping their hat in time with the lingering music.


    ¡°Yer right, she¡¯s dodgin'' more than a prairie dog in a barn dance.¡±


    I sighed, hopping down from the barrel. My pistol hung limp in my hand, and my voice softened to a wistful melody.


    ¡°They laugh and scoff,


    They don''t believe¡ª


    But I¡¯ve got dreams they can''t conceive.


    What¡¯s life to me, if life¡¯s this small?


    If nothing changes, nothing calls?¡±


    The banjoist shifted into a minor key as boots clattered against wooden planks, drawing all eyes toward the rider storming into town. His horse¡¯s mouth foamed, and his voice broke through the fading tune like a cracked whip.


    ¡°It¡¯s come agaaaaain!


    All teeth and claw!


    It killed the Whitmans¡ªate ''em raw!¡±


    A gasp rippled through the town choir, their staggered voices rising in alarm.


    My head snapped to him, and I stepped forward, my gaze sharp.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± I demanded.


    The rider wheezed, slumping forward in his saddle. ¡°A terrible beast! Part armadillo, part mountain lion! Down near the gorge!¡±


    The music trembled with tension as the mayor waddled out of his office, pale-faced and shaking. ¡°I''m puttin'' a bounty on its head! Fifteen dollars¡ª¡±


    I didn¡¯t hear the rest. My eyes locked on the general store window where the revolver gleamed. The music surged with pounding purpose.


    My BB pistol raised, and my voice rang out, clear and defiant.


    ¡°A beast¡¯s rough hide¡ª


    A silver prize.


    It¡¯s finally time, no compromise!


    I¡¯ll take my aim,


    I¡¯ll take my shot.


    I''ll slay this beast, and earn my spot!"


    The town choir erupted into chaotic protest, their movements clashing as voices overlapped in frantic disarray.


    ¡°She¡¯s lost her mind!¡±


    ¡°Someone stop her!¡±


    ¡°Please Mayor, rescind yer'' offer!¡±


    But I, undeterred, pushed through the crowd, my grin wide and wild. The banjo picked up a furious tempo, and the music swelled into a final triumphant refrain.


    ¡°Let them sneer!


    Let them doubt!


    I¡¯ll earn myself some gosh darn clout.


    This town can scoff,


    But I will soar!


    It¡¯s time to reach¡ªfor something¡ªMORE¡ª¡±


    The last note soared into the dusty sky as I burst from the throng, my black hat tilted, my pistol raised in challenge. The townsfolk stilled, and the music faded into the whisper of the wind.


    BANG!


    <hr>


    My focus returned to the present. Rhody gingerly approached me, stepping across the circle of dismantled patrolmen, all injured or unconscious. My gaze narrowed upon her as she reached for Applause''s spent form. There was something familiar in the girl, though she was doing her best to hide it.


    I handed over the revolver and turned my attention to one of the injured patrollers, the woman whose jaw I''d battered with a stolen spear. She was slumped against a wall, clutching her mouth and eyeing me wearily.


    I squatted down before her, "Hope you can still talk; my associate Rhody here has some questions for you."


    Greetings Reader. This is the most recent chapter of the rewrite. All text from here forward is from the original version.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 1 - Constricted

    Greetings Reader, you have reached the end of the rewrite, all text from this point forward is from the original text.


    ¡°Break¡­¡± her voice slipped through an iron-barred window of the Long Fang Mountains Keep, catching on the wind.


    ¡°Break,¡± she insisted. The air pirouetted around the twin curved peaks, descending again to devour her plea. Beckoned onward by her fervor, it collided with the Keep¡¯s wall. Its billowing form condensed and slithered through the bars into the prison cell of Ablee Urough.


    Moving with a will of its own, it coiled along the cell¡¯s diameter. Its loops slowly tightened, converging on the room''s center, wrapping around the ¡°impudent runt¡± of the warlord Karich.


    Ablee strained against her shackles as rivers of sweat poured from her shorn, auburn hairline. ¡°BREAK!¡± She demanded. The piney perfume of the living wind played on her tongue. Constricting her in tight circles, it wicked the moisture from her skin and drenched gray overalls.


    She started to shiver and grind her teeth as she pushed forward. Her calloused feet slipped across the damp stone, and she fell, arms held back by her restraints. CLACK. Her chin hit the ground.


    ¡°Ablee!¡± exclaimed the caricature of a woman with a basket of apples hanging from the crook of her arm. The woman, part of a colorful chalk-drawn scene on the cell''s walls, dropped to her knees. ¡°Are you all right,¡± she asked. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Depicted around her were a brilliant kaleidoscope of other concerned villagers, draped in a charming woodland village that wrapped full-circle around the room. They observed the real, flesh and blood girl, struggling in the cell''s center.


    Ablee struck the floor with a fist and lay prone for a moment, bathed in the dim white light of The Tower. Her eye peeked out from its corner to gaze upon the glowing titanic pillar, her barred window framing it like a picture of what she¡¯d been denied.


    Rolling to her side, her determined eyes narrowed. It was Karich¡¯s greatest ambition: Topping The Tower.


    I¡¯ll beat him to it.


    The woman¡¯s face was drawn with worry. ¡°Do you need help? I can call for Glimin.¡±


    Ablee¡¯s eyes turned to the woman. Smiling, a stream of bloody spit rolled down her cheek. ¡°Nah, Thalia, I juth bit my thongue.¡±


    Taking her feet, she spat on the floor. With crimson dripping down her chin and her shackle-scraped wrists, her playful demeanor was like the calm of a storm¡¯s eye. ¡°Thee, no worth for wear!¡±


    Thalia nodded, sensing her resolve. ¡°You¡¯ve got this. Keep going!¡±


    As the force of the wind battered Ablee, her head whipped back and forth, trying to track its movements. Small puffs of loose chalk dust trailed it as it rolled along the walls. What the hell is going on here?


    ¡°Cline?¡± she called out, a coy smile on her face. ¡°You have another breakthrough with your chalk¡ª¡± A prolonged burst of icy air cut off her voice. The surge didn¡¯t relent, pushing her backward¡ªone step, then another¡ªuntil only the bindings on her arms held her in place against its force.


    This has to be a sign... Tonight¡¯s not another wasted night... Tonight is different!


    She wrapped the chains around her fists, pulling herself forward along them. ¡°You¡¯re right, Thalia!¡± Ablee shouted above the wind, locking eyes with her. ¡°Five years gone, but this ends now!¡±


    Straining, she repeatedly slammed her heels into the floor, refusing to stop. Finally, she gained purchase and then yanked. The iron of her restraints began to stretch like wet clay. ¡°Yes,¡± she grunted, ¡°Yesss!¡±


    Drawn on the adjacent wall, a rum-addled pirate with ¡°PIN BEARD¡± stitched into his tricorn hat raised his mug and voice. ¡°Aye! Give it yer all, girl!¡± His long pointed goatee bobbed up and down as he hollered. ¡°Get yer brother out of this damned brig!¡±


    ¡°Cline¡­¡± She growled, reminded of her stolen sibling. Looking down at the second set of shackles, lying abandoned on the cell¡¯s floor, her memories overtook her.


    <hr>


    ¡°Pin Beard had an eye patch, right?¡± Cline asked, turning his head from his drawing to look at her through moppy black hair.


    ¡°Yeah, he did. The comic kept switching which eye it was on!¡± Ablee responded, her face and shackled hands poking up from the ground. The rest of her lay submerged in the stone-turned-paint like she was bathing in mud. The ¡°Runt¡± was even runtier at fifteen, her body not yet conditioned by three years of failed escape attempts.


    Cline¡¯s mouth pulled into a wide grin. ¡°Ha, wonder why they did that? Maybe he still had both eyes and got tired of keeping one shut.¡±


    ¡°Doubt it. The artist was probably being lazy.¡± She kicked out a leg, trailing a gray splatter through the air.


    ¡°No!¡± His cheeks sank into a scowl, and he yanked his screeching, chalky red finger across the wall. ¡°Do you know how many hours Roma works a week!?¡±


    Ablee narrowed her eyes at Cline, annoyed. Then the cell door slammed open; BANG!


    Their father, Karich, stood outside, the doorway cutting off the view of his hairline and arms. His eyebrows were caught in their perpetual furrow.


    She sat up from her mud bath, beads of the stony paint dripping down her glaring face. Her brother took a step back, butted up against the room¡¯s edge; Thalia hovered behind him, a motherly presence.


    Ablee¡¯s tongue overrode what little reason she could muster. ¡°Rude! Can you come back later? We¡¯re having an important conversation.¡±


    The warlord lowered his head and turned in a shoulder, entering the room sideways. As he did, his cloak caught on the iron door¡¯s hinge. He grabbed its clasp and forced it forward, dragging the doorframe into the cell. CLANG. The door pounded onto the ground.


    His gaze pierced Ablee, searching for some way to bring her to heel.


    ¡°Well?¡± She said, refusing to be cowed. Cline grimaced as the steps of Karich¡¯s steel-toed boots reverberated through the chamber, trudging toward his sister. ¡°Dad...¡±


    Karich looked down on her. ¡°You¡¯re finally figuring out your Ambrosia." he said, referring to her unique ability. His tone relayed no emotion.


    ¡°Why should you care? I¡¯ll never use it for---¡±


    "Because it was a gift!" He shouted, his ogre-sized foot crashed into her wet cheek. She huffed and tried to hold her own against the force, but the action was futile. "The Food of the Gods. Wasted on you embarrassments!"


    "It wasn''t a gift. You forced it on us," She hissed through gritted teeth as her muscles strained and gave way under his weight. Pushed down to the floor, his boot¡¯s heel dug into her throat while its toe threatened to collapse her temple.


    ¡°Dad, stop!¡± Cline protested. ¡°Please, what do you want!?¡±


    Karich twisted his leg, applying screaming pressure. ¡°Aa-aaahh!¡± Ablee stammered.


    She fought the urge to sink into the ground, but her instincts won. She gasped a quick breath before her head and body dropped into the stone. She heard Cline¡¯s voice as she sank below. ¡°Slip your shackles and swim away! There¡¯s nothing special about metal; it¡¯s all just paint!¡±


    Her hands, held by their bindings, remained above the surface. Pulling herself up, her scalp met again with the steel sole of Karich¡¯s boot. She bobbed against it as if caught beneath the rime of an icy lake.


    Suspended in a black abyss, she couldn¡¯t see anything. Only muffled shouts reached her ears.


    She lost track of time. Grabbing the rough-threaded pants around her father¡¯s calf, she dug her nails in, yearning for any form of vengeance.


    More shouting. She couldn¡¯t hold her breath. Her mouth opened, flooding with the dull taste of stone.


    <hr>


    Ablee¡¯s focus snapped back to the present. Cline¡¯s drawings, her friends, watched with eyes full of hope. The metal of her shackles continued to warp and twist as she strained against them.


    Flexing, she pushed her arms to their limit. Her bindings stretched further, leaking frigid liquid iron down her wrists and into the creases of her clenched fists.


    Across the chalky village, a host of hopeful voices joined in.


    ¡°This is it!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t quit!¡±


    ¡°FOR CLINE!¡±


    Her eyes were wide, her jaw set with focus. Two plumes of hot breath billowed from her nostrils. Puff, puff, puff. The wind tugged them like a dragon¡¯s whiskers.


    She took three long steps back. The links of her chains, slackening, plinked to the floor.


    The chill air tore along the walls, stirring into a storm of loose chalk dust. Ablee¡¯s eyes, locked on some distant point, didn''t waver, didn''t blink.


    He has to be right. There¡¯s nothing special about metal.


    Her right foot dropped back, and she leaned onto her left. The riotous gale continued to surge, pitching to a scream!


    Jump through it. It¡¯s all just paint. You¡¯ve got this... go... Go... GO!


    She threw herself forward, taking a step, then hopping and landing into a crouch. Capitalizing on her momentum, she fully extended her legs and rocketed into the air.


    The chains rose behind her like twin serpents refusing to release their prey.


    Roaring, the undulating chalk dust storm rushed to meet her head-on.


    She swung her right arm, an iron-painted fist at its head. ¡°HYYAAAAHHHH!¡±


    The wind, changing direction, quickly jerked away from her strike. Her chain clung to its anchor, its links screeching in desperate protest. The shackle, wrung like a sponge, vomited slick gun-metal paint that splattered the floor.


    He was right!


    Its form started to split, pulling apart around Ablee¡¯s wrist and reforming on its other side. CLINK.


    A viper¡¯s grin peeled from ear to ear, and she wrenched her chest to the right, dragging her left arm forward through the other shackle. CLINK.


    Her now unrestrained fist smashed into the snout of the veering wind, and a piercing wail shook the chamber. WAAAOOOO¡ª!


    As she flew through trembling air, her wild grin split, ¡°Ha-Hyahahahaha!¡± Descending side-first, she bounced off the ground and rolled to a stop against the wall.


    Behind her, the discarded chains clattered toward the window in the wake of the retreating wind.


    Pin Beard reached for the sash at his hip, ¡°Ye¡¯ve done it, girl! When you top that tower, etch ol¡¯ Pin Beard¡¯s name inta its roof!¡± He pointed a flint-lock pistol from his sash to the sky.


    ¡°Pin, the guards!¡± Thalia shouted and rushed to stop him, her basket tossed aside in a shower of red and gold produce.


    BANG!


    As the echoes of the shot diminished, the crowd looked down at Ablee, lying on her back, still shaking with laughter, ¡°Let ¡¯em come!¡±.


    She sat up and eyed the iron cell door, cupping her hands to her mouth, ¡°DAAADDYYY! Send whoever you want! I¡¯m gonna find you, and then I¡¯m GONNA BEAT YOUR ASS!¡±


    ¡°Yeah!¡± The chalk-drawn villagers cheered.


    Ablee got to her feet. Eyeing the door, she rubbed her iron-coated palms through her hair.


    ¡°Hey Glimin!¡± She shouted, tapping her foot.


    Pin Beard finished reloading his flint-lock, ¡°The coward¡¯s probly runnin fer yer dad...¡±


    Ablee sneered, ¡°I¡¯m not waiting around here all night. He needs to hurry it up..."


    She looked around, all patience having fled her, then paced to the wall beside her cell door. A few chalky villagers moved to get out of her way. She leaned her head into the stone wall, and it turned to thick, muddy paint around her. Poking through to her shoulders on its other side, she wiped her eyes and looked up and down the lantern-lit stone corridor. Glimin¡¯s chair sat empty.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe this guy... GLIMIN!¡± her voice carried down the hallway, ¡°A gun went off in the warlord¡¯s daughter¡¯s bed-chambers! What in the hell are you doing!?¡±


    No response came. She strode forward, dripping stone paint along the hall.


    Bang. She heard a muffled gunshot. Bang. Then another. Pulsing with excitement, she flung herself back through the wall to her cell, ¡°Good thinkin¡¯ Pinny, get ¡¯em all riled up!¡±


    Pin-Beard turned to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°That wasn¡¯t me, lass...¡±

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 2 - Arrival

    <div>


    Earlier that night, in the village of Row:


    Two travelers strode into the subdued settlement in the valley of the Long Fang Mountains. The twin peaks curled around it like the maw of an ancient beast, their jagged ridges glinting in the Tower-light. Scents of pine and the acrid tang of wood smoke hung heavy in the air.


    Along the streets, patrolmen moved in a dreary rhythm; shoulders slumped under the Warlord Karich Urough¡¯s rule. Dust rose from their tired footsteps, settling in the cracks of splintered wooden beams and sagging rooftops. Every inch of the place bore the scars of its master¡¯s iron grip, from crumbling walls to the quiet sobs within its shuttered homes.


    Making her way down a forlorn street was a woman in stark contrast to Row''s hollow-eyed inhabitants. She moved with a purpose that turned heads and widened eyes, her silhouette sharp and striking against the backdrop of decay. Dressed in all black, a flat-brimmed hat crowned her tall frame, and her blonde hair flowed in wild disarray beneath it. The outfit she wore was of glaringly expensive make. Its blouse sported a plunging, collared neckline and billowing unbuttoned sleeves. A long cape draped across her back rippled with her alluring movements. Her impeccably pressed pants looked fresh from the tailor''s rack, hugging the lithe curve of her hips.


    Trailing behind her was Rhody, a girl on the verge of adulthood, clothed in the gray woolen robes of an acolyte. Her petite frame struggled against a pack suited for a circus strong-man. Her every step was an effort as she adjusted the heavy straps digging into her shoulders. It bulged with equipment: munitions, spare clothing, and Zeph''s leather-bound log book tucked into a side pocket. Around her neck was a silver chain. A flame-red pouch hung at its end, swinging beneath her.


    The girl¡¯s soft features and nervous glances marked her in deep contrast to Miss Calm and Collected. The black-clad bombshell strutted forward without a care, daring anyone to stand in her way.


    ¡°Zeph,¡± Rhody called, her voice strained with exertion. ¡°Can we¡­ slow down? Just a little?¡±


    The woman didn''t even turn her head. ¡°Slowing down,¡± she said, ¡°is for people who haven¡¯t got a warlord to kill."


    Her terse statement cut through any objections Rhody harbored. The girl pulled her inky-blue locks into a ponytail and trudged on, trying her best to keep up.


    Ahead, a group of six patrolmen rounded a corner, their spears popping against the packed dirt ground. Their steps faltered as they took in the tall figure striding toward them.


    ¡°Halt!¡± barked one of the men, his voice cracking. He leveled his quivering spear with all the grace of a newborn calf. Battling his anxiety, he tried to steady it.


    One of the rear guard nudged another, "Theod''s report... that''s her, the Ace of Swords..."


    As Zeph walked on, Rhody¡¯s feet rooted in place, her breath caught between panic and disbelief.


    The acolyte''s hands fumbled around the pouch of her silver necklace, unclasping it and sliding out a tarot deck. The pristine cards were backed in midnight blue with a sprinkling of gold-foiled stars. Eyeing the spear-man, her left palm cupped the deck. The shaking fingers of her right snapped up the top card. Turning it to her eyes, its face was a glossy white, without suit or rank. She let out a small sigh of relief before moving her attention to the next patrolman. Zeph shot Rhody a quick glance. "None of these whelps warrant a reading; put those away and ready yourself, like we discussed."


    The patrol¡¯s lead stepped forward, his weapon poised at Zeph¡¯s chest. ¡°You¡¯ll go no further. Row''s got a curfew; anyone breaking it¡¯s to be imprisoned and lashed ---Karich¡¯s orders!¡±


    Zeph¡¯s eyes dropped to the shaft in his hands, and she grinned¡ªa toothy, predator''s grin. Her gaze flickered, measuring him. ¡°You¡¯re going to subdue me with a stick?¡±


    The patrol leader inched the razor-sharp head of his spear closer, its tip tapping a button on Zeph''s blouse. ¡°You¡¯re going to subdue Zepharin, the next Queen of Assassins, WITH A STICK?!¡±


    The man stuttered, ¡°A-a spear.¡±


    Her hand blurred into motion. One moment, it hung loose at her side; the next, it pointed a silvered revolver at his spear''s shaft, just beneath its tip.


    The man¡¯s eyes snapped to the word ¡°APPLAUSE¡± engraved into its barrel. BANG. A shower of splinters pelted his face, and he reflexively turned away, his shout of surprise swallowed by the echoing crack.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°What spear!?¡± She cackled as Applause''s recoil whipped her arm around her like an orbiting celestial body, its revolution ending against the side of his head. The impact landed with a deafening clang, his helmet flying loose as he crumpled to the ground.


    Chaos erupted. The remains of the patrol lunged forward as Zeph sidesteps their rush, more dancing than fighting.


    BANG.


    A single shot rang out, shattering a second spear.


    BANG, BANG.


    The fragments of a third and fourth scattered to the ground.


    One of the guards rushed her from the side, but she twisted on her heel, her cape flaring out like a raven''s wing. The man, dazzled, didn''t register the heel of her thigh-high boot zipping toward his throat.


    She moved like a river cutting through stone, her strikes precise and efficient.


    BANG. Applause belched smoke and fire as she dismantled the patrol¡¯s defenses, shattering their weapons and resolve with little effort.


    Shouts rose from around the village, growing louder as lanterns flickered to life in nearby houses. Curtains rustled as wary eyes peeked out, their owners unwilling to intervene but too curious to turn away.


    ¡°Zeph, I think we should start moving!¡± Rhody''s shrill voice called out while she searched for an escape route. Her trembling legs and the weight of her pack conspired to keep her still.


    Lantern light danced between the surrounding buildings, casting long, jittering shadows across the uneven walls and streets.


    BANG.


    "Empty!" Zeph shrugged and tossed the hot revolver over her shoulder. Duty overcoming her, Rhody rushed forward to catch it with a startled yelp, fumbling to reload the weapon.


    Zeph snatched a discarded spear from the ground, twirling it like a marching baton in a lazy figure-eight.


    ¡°Why are you fighting the whole town!?¡± Rhody shouted, her fingers fumbling around the ammunition. ¡°Aren¡¯t assassins supposed to be subtle?¡±


    ¡°What, who told you that!? An assassin¡¯s supposed to be notorious. How would a subtle assassin even find work!?¡± Zeph retorted, her voice filled with indignation as she ducked beneath a wide swing and swept the legs from under a new arrival.


    The patrolmen continued to fall until only one remained, useless, like the tip of a busted spear. His knees buckled and dropped as Zeph approached, her arm reaching for his paltry weapon. He offered no resistance as she slid it from his hands.


    She tossed it aside and held out her now empty palm. The acolyte returned Applause, its belly full, to its rightful place.


    ¡°Now,¡± Zeph said with a sugary lilt. ¡°My assistant Rhody''s going to ask you some questions.¡±


    The man nodded, his lips trembling as Rhody shuffled forward, flipping open Zeph''s logbook. The black cover of the leather-bound tome peeled away like an old scab, revealing rows of names. Each was dressed with a thick line through its middle. Line after line of past marks marched across the page, then another page, and more others, leading to six names that remained untouched, the first of which was Karich Urough.


    ¡°Keep¡¯s defenses?¡± Rhody asked, her pencil poised. Her tone was clipped but steady now, her earlier nervousness replaced by a determined calm.


    The man stammered out everything he could recall: guard rotations, entrances and exits, and directions to Karich¡¯s chambers. Zeph, disinterested, tapped the barrel of Applause against her thigh.


    <hr>


    Wrapping up the interrogation, Rhody hoisted her pack and returned to Zeph¡¯s side. ¡°Okay, I think I¡¯ve got a plan.¡±


    Zeph raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the hint of a smirk. ¡°First step?¡±


    ¡°It seems our best shot of entering the Keep unscathed is through its roof.¡±


    ¡°Alright, prepare the hook.¡± Zeph started trudging toward the peaks in the distance, intent on the Keep lying between them. The towering structure seemed to pulse with menace, its jagged parapets slicing into the night sky.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t you want to know the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Rhody!¡± Zeph said, ¡°Don¡¯t pull my focus.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°No buts.¡± Zeph tossed her head, her golden locks spinning behind her. ¡°Just keep up.¡±


    Zeph strode away, casting a long shadow across the dusty ground. Rhody groaned and pocketed the logbook, trudging on.


    Looking up at the tall walls of the Keep, she couldn''t hold her tongue, ¡°You don¡¯t expect me to climb rope with this pack on?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out," Zeph called over her shoulder. "Father Herus said you¡¯re resourceful.¡± She glanced back, her grin sharp and unapologetic. ¡°Now hurry up. I want to claim this mark at daybreak. That¡¯ll read better in the papers.¡±


    Behind Zeph and Rhody, the village lay silent again, though its inhabitants remained restless. Children peeked from their hiding spots, their wide eyes following the gunslinger and her retainer as they vanished into the distance.


    Above, the shadow of the Long Fang Mountains¡¯ Keep loomed large, the faint sound of the wind whispering promises of challenge and glory.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 3 - Toil

    <div>


    Perched on the edge of the Keep''s roof, Rhody¡¯s muscles seethed like a forge stoked to its limit, her arms quaking as she pulled against a rope. Her breath bursts out in ragged hisses, each exhale a battle. Below, the pack swung like a mule caught in quicksand¡ªstubborn, heavy, and unwilling to budge. It clung to the keep¡¯s face, its weight dragging against the stone and mocking her every effort.


    ¡°Move,¡± she growled through gritted teeth. The coarse rope tore at her palms. Her fingers ached with the urge to let go, to release the cursed thing and let it crash into the shadows below. But the thought of Zeph¡¯s cutting disappointment and the stakes of their mission chained her to the task.


    The village of Row loomed below, its scattered lanterns like a constellation of stars. Sounds of chaos simmered up from the windows across the Keep: the sharp crack of gunfire, the ring of steel meeting steel, and the hollers of some spoiled brat who hadn''t shut up since they started their climb. All of it faded, eclipsed by the fibers of the rope biting into her hands and the inferno raging in her limbs; her thoughts began to wander.


    <hr>


    The courtyard of the King of Wands Temple buzzed with life the day Rhody first laid eyes on a Royal Tarot Deck. Its towering spires pierced the sky, their intricate carvings glinting in the sunlight. Fiery red banners rippled in the breeze, each emblazoned with the King¡¯s golden emblem, a staff wreathed in flames. Beneath the spires, grand stone columns encircled the courtyard, their bases etched with winding depictions of the god¡¯s endeavors. The air was rich with incense, a heady mix of cedar and frankincense, mingling with the murmur of awed voices.


    Rhody, nine years old and rail-thin, hid behind one of the towering columns. Her patched dress hung loosely on her, and her tangled inky-blue hair cascaded into her wide, dirt-smudged eyes. Barefoot, her calloused toes gripped the stone as she leaned forward, peeking at the scene before her. The acolyte, her flowing robes edged with gilded patterns, stood at the courtyard''s center. Her deck gleamed like treasure, each card catching the sun''s light and shimmering.


    The crowd gasped as the acolyte revealed the destinies of those fated members of her audience. Her calm voice belied secrets as though reading from the gods¡¯ own script. Rhody¡¯s breath caught¡ªawed, envious, yearning. This was power. This was divinity.


    From that day forward, Rhody¡¯s dreams were steeped in the allure of fate¡¯s mysteries. Every moment she wasn¡¯t working¡ªscrubbing the temple floors or hauling water for the priests¡ªshe spent in the temple''s back alley. Reading the faces of her fellow orphans, watching for the faint twitch of an eye or the telltale quirk of the mouth, she wagered and bluffed, mastering another deck of cards. Five-card draw became her second language. With it, she might be able to afford a third.


    She learned the art of bluffing, feigning hesitation in a hand¡¯s slight tremor or the downward flick of her gaze. But the rush of a perfectly played hand paled next to the thought of holding a Royal Tarot Deck. Those cards, blessed by the King of Wands himself, could reveal a person¡¯s divine rank¡ªtheir place in the intricate web of existence. Scraping together her winnings, she purchased a battered old Tarot deck from a second-hand shop, an invaluable tool in achieving her ultimate goal. The next week, she won a book on reading the cards off of one of the temple''s elders.


    <hr>


    The next Spring, bittersweet news came in the announcement of a contest to become the temple''s next acolyte, the position left vacant in a tragic accident. Royal Tarot Decks, bound to their acolytes, were expensive for the temple to create. As such, positions among the acolytes didn¡¯t open often and were reserved for youth, who had more time to train and maximize the temple''s investment in them. Knowing this might be her only chance to claim her dream, she gave it everything she had. Studying any materials she could get her hands on and drilling gymnastics routines until her muscles screamed. Even then, she felt the gap between herself and the others¡ªchildren from wealthier families who had tutors and training, whose Tarot decks weren¡¯t scuffed and peeling like hers.


    Brenna. Sweet, perfect Brenna. Her friend, her rival. Her jealous obsession. Each of the three aspects of the contest¡ªreciting sacred texts, gymnastics, and Tarot reading¡ªwas just a part of who she was. Rhody used to look up to her; now she saw her as a mountain to summit.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to push yourself so hard, Rhody,¡± Brenna said after practice one day, offering a hand to pull Rhody out of yet another failed cartwheel. ¡°Don''t worry, it¡¯s okay if this isn¡¯t for you. You''re great at cards!¡±


    Rhody smiled through clenched teeth, her palms burning from the rough stone. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    But she wasn¡¯t. When the final test came, her readings faltered. She couldn¡¯t remember the second half of the passage she''d tried to memorize, and her gymnastics routine ended with her lying on her back. She came in last, dead last, her performance so poor that Father Herus didn¡¯t bother to tally her score.


    Brenna was chosen, of course. Rhody watched her ascend to the altar, radiating pride in the robes of an acolyte, her new Royal Tarot Deck gleaming in her hands. The bitterness burned worse than failure. Brenna hardly even tried.


    <hr>


    Over the next three years, Rhody continued to push herself, hoping desperately for another chance. She begged Brenna to share insights on her training, trying to replicate it with her limited resources.


    The conversation always went the same way. "Rhody, you''re thirteen... another year, and you won''t even be eligible..." Brenna would say, trying to dissuade her. "Besides, it''s not as great as it seems."


    That Fall, Brenna disappeared, leaving nothing but a note in her chambers. The temple elders released a statement that she had taken a pilgrimage, but Rhody knew she wouldn¡¯t be coming back. Brenna loved the idea of being an acolyte, but it didn¡¯t challenge her. She¡¯d grown bored.


    When the temple elders sought a replacement, Rhody¡¯s name wasn¡¯t even whispered. She¡¯d failed too spectacularly. The other orphans snickered behind her back, calling her "Table-scraps.¡± Even Father Herus, who indulged her endless questions about the gods, seemed to pity her.


    But Rhody wouldn¡¯t give up. She poured herself into her training, cutting all frivolities from her life. Her Tarot readings grew sharper, her interpretations more profound. Still, the elders dismissed her. She had her chance, and she failed.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    One night, sitting cross-legged on the temple floor with her deck before her, Rhody flipped a card over slowly, meditating on her next step. The King of Wands stared back at her, the card¡¯s golden edges gleaming in the candlelight. Her pulse quickened. The message was clear: This wasn¡¯t over.


    <hr>


    Father Herus¡¯s vice was no secret. The old priest, with his stooped shoulders and threadbare cassock, loved gambling as much as he loved to preach. His wispy gray hair never stayed combed, and his sunken eyes, perpetually shadowed, gave him the air of a man who wrestled nightly with his conscience¡ªand usually lost. His cracked fingers often fiddled with a weathered coin, his luck charm, as he recounted tales of divine wisdom from the pulpit with a charm that belied his failing stature. Yet, at the poker table, his charisma faltered.


    Over the years, Rhody had played countless hands with him, learning his tells¡ªthe way his left eyebrow twitched when he bluffed, how his breath hitched just a moment too long when holding a strong hand. Back then, he would lose a few coins, chuckle at his folly, and wave her off with a self-deprecating grin. But lately, his losses had grown larger, the laugh lines around his mouth giving way to deeper creases of worry. His coin purse hung pitifully light on his belt. Each ante seemed like a prayer for deliverance that the gods refused to answer.


    Rhody knew the acolyte position was still vacant. And she knew they would never offer it to her. Unless¡­


    <hr>


    Rhody riffled the deck, the cards shuffling with a satisfying hiss. She dealt five cards each, her movements practiced and deliberate. Across the table, Father Herus rubbed his temples, his stack of coins pitifully small.


    ¡°This is a terrible idea,¡± he muttered, fanning out his cards. His expression tightened, but Rhody spotted that telltale twitch in his left eyebrow. A bluff.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she said lightly, rearranging her cards. ¡°But here we are.¡±


    Father Herus groaned as she pushed a bet into the center of the table. ¡°You¡¯re relentless.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what makes me good,¡± Rhody said, her tone calm, her gaze sharp as she discarded a card and drew its replacement.


    Father Herus hesitated, then discarded two cards with a sigh. ¡°All right, but don¡¯t say I didn¡¯t warn you.¡±


    The pot grew as they upped the stakes, coins glinting faintly in the lamplight. Finally, the moment came to lay down their cards.


    Father Herus revealed his hand first. ¡°Queen high straight,¡± he said, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "What ya got?"


    ¡°Nice," Rhody said, her grin slow and deliberate as she flipped her cards. ¡°but not nice enough.¡± Three Jacks and two sevens lay in front of her. "Full house. I know you love those, Mr. Preacher."


    Father Herus groaned, leaning back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding me dry,¡± he muttered, his eyes growing wet.


    ¡°How about a wager?¡± Rhody offered, gathering the cards to shuffle.


    He hesitated. "I don''t have much more to give you..."


    Rhody pulled a hefty leather sack from her patchy book satchel and set it on the table. "Your last three months'' losses, one hand. I don''t want any more of your money."


    She saw his hands begin to shake. A good sign. ¡°What... what do you want in return?¡± he grumbled.


    ¡°The acolyte position,¡± she said, dealing out their cards. ¡°If I win, you''ll back me. Convince the other elders I can handle it.¡±


    Father Herus froze, his face tightening. ¡°Rhody, I can''t¡ª¡± he said, "It... It wouldn''t be a good fit for you."


    "You''re wrong!" Her voice strained, breaking her expertly-crafted demeanor. "I know what happened in that contest, but I''ve come so far since then. I''m better than Brenna. I actually care about this."


    His eyes narrowed upon her. "It''d be an abuse of my position..."


    "Let fate decide it." she interrupted. ¡°If you win, I¡¯ll leave the temple and find something else."


    He let out a sigh that carried the weight of resignation and picked up his cards.


    <hr>


    The powerful rhythm of Applause''s barks ended, and Rhody returned to her senses. Shit, she''s run out of bullets.


    The pack has to reach the roof. If Rhody falters now, their entire mission could crumble like a castle of cards.


    She jerked at the rope, and the pack scraped upward with a reluctant screech. Rhody gasps at the movement, dragging in the icy air. For a fleeting moment, hope stirred in her. ¡°Almost there,¡± she whispers, the words pleading.


    She leaned back, bracing her blistered feet against the roof''s edge. The motion sent a shiver of terror through her. One misstep, and she¡¯d tumble over the edge. She grits her teeth.


    ¡°Come on,¡± she hissed, her voice edged with desperation. She could see Zeph¡¯s smirk in her mind, hear her sharp, irreverent quip: Slowing down¡¯s for people who don¡¯t have a warlord to kill. The words were carved into her.


    Zeph thinks I can do this.


    Another heave. The pack inched higher. Sweat stung her eyes, blurring her vision, and frustration welled up within, threatening tears she refused to shed.


    Tools, ammunition, Zeph''s logbook¡ªthe pack carried everything they needed to bring down Karich Urough. She wouldn''t fail. She couldn¡¯t.


    "Rhody!" She heard Zeph''s commanding voice and flinched, her grip tightening. Damn it, why am I so weak?!


    Zeph was incredibly capable, but she wasn''t invincible. And she certainly wasn''t patient. If the pack didn''t reach the roof soon, Rhody¡¯s tender palms would be the least of her problems.


    The pack grated upward, inch by agonizing inch. Rhody paused, her head drooping forward as she gulped air. Her body shook, her arms felt like jelly, and the temptation to tie off the rope for a moment¡¯s rest gnawed at her resolve. No one would know.


    I would know.


    With a feral growl, Rhody squatted and yanked one last time. The pack lurched, cresting the edge and teetering back against her as she landed on her ass.


    Rhody collapsed onto the cold stone, her limbs splayed, her chest heaving. The length of the Tower blurred in her vision, mocking her exhaustion with its indifferent glow.


    ¡°Never again,¡± she muttered, her voice hoarse.


    "Rhody!" Zeph shouted again, jolting her upright. The battle below raged on. Groaning, she dragged herself to her knees and gripped the pack like a stubborn beast. With one determined motion, she slung it over her shoulder.


    <hr>


    Below, in the Keep''s kitchen, Zeph moved with feral grace. Her every step was sharp and deliberate. She whipped about the room with Applause, parrying sword strikes with its barrel.


    A guard charged, the tip of his saber driving toward her midsection. Zeph didn''t dodge¡ªshe flowed, her long coat flaring out behind her. The blade whistled harmlessly past her side. Spinning on her heel, she rounded Applause with the precision of a striking viper. The man collapsed to the ground, knocked out cold.


    "This is your defense, Karich?!" Zeph bellowed, her voice cutting deep into the Keep''s labyrinthine tunnels. ¡°Send me someone worthy!¡±


    Her words barely settled before another guard barreled toward her, a jagged blade raised high. His face twisted in a grimace of desperation, his eyes flickering between Zeph and the fallen already littering the ground. He charged with a roar, but Zeph stepped into his momentum, her motion incredibly sudden. The butt of Applause slammed into his temple with a crunch. His roar died in his throat as he rebounded against a stone wall. Zeph caught the hilt of his falling blade, spinning it into her free hand without missing a beat. She resumed her hunt.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 4 - Collision

    <div>


    The clamor of boots and the sharp clang of steel echoed through the halls of Karich Urough¡¯s keep, their rhythm punctuated by Zeph¡¯s bold laughter. She strode through the chaos on her boisterous hunt, her voice ringing out like a war horn. Her black cape flared with each confident step, the hem snapping against her heels.


    ¡°Come on, Karich!¡± she bellowed, her voice carrying through the twisting corridors.


    A guard lunged from the shadows, his spear aimed for her chest, but Zeph sidestepped with a flourish, twisting her body in a practiced arc. The spear grazed empty air as she brought the hilt of her stolen sword crashing down on the man¡¯s helmet, the impact echoing loudly. Without missing a beat, she spun toward another guard, her fist connected squarely with his jaw. He stumbled back, clutching his face as she pressed forward.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your master hiding?¡± she taunted, her grin wide and wolfish. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me he¡¯s too scared to greet his guest of honor.¡±


    The air grew heavy with the tension of pursuit, guards hesitating as they heard her taunts. Zeph moved through them wildly, each strike deliberate and devastating. Her blade flashed in the torchlight, its blunt end battering weapons aside as she fought.


    She threw her head in a wanton motion, freeing her golden locks from the sweat on her cheeks. ¡°Karich!¡± she shouted again, her tone mocking.


    A guard lunged, his spear aimed for her midsection. Zeph sidestepped with casual grace, the blade missing her by inches as she brought the hilt of her own crashing into his shoulder. The man spun, colliding with a wall. She turned and ducked another swinging blade. Her hips thrust back against its owner, sending him tumbling over one of his spent colleagues.


    Zeph¡¯s breath came sharp but steady, her feral grin unshaken.


    From the shadows of a crumbling archway, Ablee Urough grinned, her wide eyes locked on the spectacle. The girl¡¯s wiry frame, coated in a thick layer of gray stone paint, blended seamlessly into the dim walls.


    Ablee¡¯s breath hitched as she watched Zeph dismantle Karich¡¯s men with artistic grace. The assassin¡¯s movements were fluid and forceful.


    "She has to join my climbing party..." Ablee whispered. The admiration in her voice surprised even herself. Her arms hung at her sides, bare and streaked with dripping paint. Though her shackles were gone, the weight of her captivity lingered, a phantom pain digging into her wrists. She¡¯d spent so long dreaming of her escape, of the strength it would take to stand against Karich¡¯s men. Yet here was this stranger, moving through them as easily as a knife through silk.


    Zeph parried another blow, catching her enemy''s weapon in a flash of sparks. With a flick of her wrist, she knocked the attacker off balance and clanged Applause against his forehead like a door knocker, toppling him.


    For a moment, Ablee forgot her mission entirely. Her anger at Karich, her longing for vengeance¡ªit all blurred under the magnetism of Zeph¡¯s raw skill.


    The sharp echo of Zeph¡¯s taunts was cut short by a low, silken voice dripping with mockery. ¡°Ah, the so-called Future Queen of Assassins.¡± it purred, slicing through the din of the keep. ¡°What a reputation. So... theatrical.¡±


    Zeph halted mid-step, her head snapping toward the voice. From the shadows at the end of the corridor, a figure emerged, tall and unnervingly gaunt. He wore a porcelain mask that gleamed in the dim torchlight, its painted grin a parody of civility. The deep blue and gold of his cloak glimmered as he walked. A polearm rested across his shoulders, its blade wickedly curved.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Zeph said, her grin widening. ¡°I was starting to think I''d find no challenge here.¡± She raised the sword and shifted her stance.


    "What was that?" He asked, leaning closer. Ablee''s eyes narrowed upon her father''s subservient. ¡°Rinval The Deaf¡± she muttered angrily, naming the man she once considered a friend, "You''ll see no aid from me against this witch."


    "I''m not going to repeat myself!" Zeph shouted as a subtle weight seeped into the air around her. It clung to her skin and wrapped around her thoughts. Her grip on the sword felt a little less steady. She tried to shake it off, lunging forward with a sweeping strike aimed at Rinval¡¯s midsection.


    His polearm spun, deflecting her blade with a resounding clang. His effortless counter left Zeph off-balance. How did he...


    ¡°Tsk,¡± Rinval chided, his voice soft yet piercing. ¡°So much passion, so much fire¡ªand yet, it burns carelessly.¡± His words slithered into her mind, twisting her focus.


    Zeph snarled, driving forward with another strike, this one heavier, angrier. Rinval parried again, his polearm twirling lazily.


    Her swings grew wilder, her precision faltering as his words dripped into her psyche. Ablee gritted her teeth, "Come on, lady, you can take him..."


    ¡°Tell me, loudly please,¡± he continued, his tone light but unyielding, ¡°you don''t really think you can topple a warlord, do you? You''ve over-extended yourself, Zeph."


    ¡°Shut it,¡± Zeph growled, her teeth gritted as she pressed her attack. Her blade arced again, but Rinval sidestepped, his polearm darting forward. Its razor-keen tip slid into her right shoulder, pulling a spray of crimson from the black fabric of her blouse. She stumbled back, cursing under her breath.


    ¡°Ah, there it is,¡± Rinval said, his tone turning almost playful. ¡°A crack in the would-be Queen¡¯s facade.¡±


    Zeph hissed, trying to ignore the wound. Her pain married with the oppressive weight of Rinval¡¯s words, threatening to drown her focus. She glanced at the nearest doorway, her mind racing.


    With a sudden burst of movement, she turned and sprinted, her boots pounding against the stone. Rinval laughed, his footsteps calm and unhurried as he followed.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Zeph dived into an open chamber, then slammed and barred its wooden door. Where is that acolyte? I need ammunition.


    "Rhody!" she called out, her breathing coming faster. Her bloodied blouse clung tight to her skin as she rummaged the room for any sort of advantage.


    Rinval¡¯s voice seeped beneath the door, low and steady. ¡°Well, that was easy. You''ll find that room doesn''t have any other exits. You planning to bleed out in there?¡± He paused for a moment, "Huh?!"


    <hr>


    Rhody rushed through the keep, skidding to a stop at the edge of a junction. Her breath hitched as she pressed herself against the cold stone wall. She peeked cautiously around the corner. Zeph''s assailant leaned against a wall, his porcelain mask leveled at a wooden cube he was working with his hands, twisting and reorienting sections of it. His unreadable visage and shimmering polearm sent a chill down Rhody''s spine.


    Her hand darted to the red pouch hanging from her neck, fingers fumbling as she pulled out her Royal Tarot Deck. Her hands trembled as she quickly shuffled it, whispering a silent prayer to steady herself before drawing a card.


    She turned it over, her breath catching. On its face, a hand descended from the heavens, holding a golden chalice overflowing with crystal-clear water. He''s an Ace of Cups, the trump to Zeph¡¯s Ace of Swords. If they fight, Zeph''ll have an uphill battle.


    Her heart sank like a stone.


    Her mind raced, panic twisting through her chest. She scanned the hall, desperate for a solution, and her eyes landed on a doorway leading to a chamber adjacent to Zeph¡¯s. An idea formed in her mind, shaky but solid enough to cling to.


    Moving as silently as she could with her oversized pack, Rhody trudged into the room and inspected the wall between her and the assassin. She could hear Zeph''s labored breathing, searching for it, she spotted a small, paper-thin crack in the mortar. ¡°Zeph,¡± she whispered. ¡°It¡¯s me. I¡¯m here.¡±


    <hr>


    Inside, Zeph froze at the faint sound of Rhody¡¯s voice filtering through the wall. ¡°Rhody!¡± She felt an ounce of relief that quickly flooded out her gushing chest wound.


    Ablee leaned casually against the chamber''s other wall, dripping with a fresh coat of stony paint. ¡°That your kid?¡± she asked, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of mischief.


    Zeph spun, trying to spot the intrusive voice''s source, Applause''s barrel tracking with her eyes. Ablee waved a camouflaged hand, drawing Zeph''s gaze, "Yoohoo!"


    "How''d you get in here? Where''s the hidden passage?" Zeph demanded, trying to relay a calm demeanor. Her empty revolver leveled at the girl.


    Ablee laughed, "Closed behind me..."


    "Bullshit, tell me, now!" A twinge crawled across Zeph''s cheek, coaxed by her screaming shoulder.


    Ablee treaded toward her and said, "Alright, fine, there''s no secret door. I swam through that wall," gesturing behind her.


    Zeph groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "Why do I find that more believable?" she asked herself, "If you don''t have an exit for me, what are you doing here?"


    "You were putting on a good show until that jackalope Rinval got involved," Ablee scratches her chin, "You''re here to kill my dad, right?"


    "Your Dad?" Zeph said, and the revelation hit her. She drops into a low stance, "One more step, and I''ll shoot."


    Ablee continued her advance, "That''s not going to happen. Plus it''d be pretty dumb, I don''t want to stop you."


    "You... huh? I''m going to kill your Dad!" Zeph squinted, trying to get a read on the girl.


    Ablee nodded, her cheeks rising in a smirk, "He''s got it coming. Though now I''m not sure you and your kid are up to it; you''re looking a bit pale."


    Zeph stumbled and then righted herself, "I''m fine." she said through gritted teeth, frustration bleeding into her voice.


    Ablee pointed to her shoulder, "Let me see it."


    Hesitant, Zeph sighed and then holstered Applause. She popped the top two buttons of her blouse and lowered it, revealing her shoulders. A thin line along the top right of her chest pumped gushes of crimson. Ablee approached her, palm extended. "Don''t freak out," she said and laid it flat to the unblemished skin on the other side of Zeph''s chest. It rippled, and Zeph''s eyes widened as Ablee''s hand pushed forward, disappearing beneath its surface. Ablee yanked it back out, coated in silky white paint matching Zeph''s skin tone. "Wha-what in the-" Zeph stammered.


    Ablee rolled her eyes and smeared the paint along Zeph''s stab wound, leaving behind a patch of wet, fresh skin, "That should hold you for a little bit."


    Zeph¡¯s eyes narrowed as she studied Ablee, deeply suspicious. The girl¡¯s painted form shimmered in the dim light, the stone coating on her skin lending her an otherworldly presence. The number of people Zeph trusts is equal to the number of rounds Applause can chamber.


    However, she could use this girl. "You said you can swim through walls?"


    "Yep! What you got in mind?" Ablee asked, "I can''t take you with me. You''re going to have to walk out that door..."


    "My acolyte, behind that wall. She''s got ammunition that I need."


    "Oh, yeah no problem!" Without waiting for further instruction, Ablee stepped into the wall, leaving no trace behind her.


    Zeph stared at the now-empty space. Propping herself against a nearby dresser, she took a moment to weigh her options. This girl was reckless, sure, but there was no denying she was capable. Zeph didn''t like working with wildcards, but the situation left her little choice.


    <hr>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>


    Rhody¡¯s Royal Tarot Deck weighed heavily in her trembling hands. Her wide eyes fixed on the figure stepping through the wall. Ablee looked like a polished statue. This has to be the yammering brat we heard on our climb. The voices are the same...


    Rhody instinctively drew a card. Turning it over, the face shimmered gold¡ªa radiant, unreadable enigma. Her breath hitched. The girl was a rank she was unable to read. Her heart sank at the implications. What the hell is she?


    Ablee caught sight of Rhody¡¯s stunned expression and grinned, her teeth flashing in the dim light. ¡°What?¡± she teased, crossing her arms with casual confidence. ¡°Never seen a walking wall before?¡±


    Rhody swallowed hard, her throat dry. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ One of the Urough kids?¡±


    At the sound of her last name, Ablee¡¯s grin faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her tone, once playful, turned sharp. ¡°Yeah, Ablee Urough. What¡¯s it to you?¡±


    Rhody¡¯s thoughts went to Zeph¡¯s logbook, tucked in the bulging pack she carried. Her mind raced. Ablee¡¯s name was scrawled clearly among the list of marks, a future target that Zeph was slated to eliminate. The realization sent a shiver down Rhody¡¯s spine, but she put on her best poker face, tucking the revelation away for later. Her hands tightened around the deck, her expression neutral as she forced herself to focus.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Rhody said after a pause, her voice quieter now. ¡°Just¡­ heard stories.¡±


    Ablee¡¯s grin returned. ¡°Yeah, I bet! You heard the witch, right? Gimme the bullets.¡± she held out her palm.


    Rhody nodded and reached into one of her pack''s outer pockets. She pulled out a small wooden box with "44 Magnum" inked on its lid and handed it to Ablee. The pressure of the situation weighed on her¡ªnot just the imminent danger, but the presence of this strange girl whose name lingered ominously in Zeph¡¯s logbook.


    Ablee gave her a curt nod before stepping back toward the wall. ¡°Be ready to act quick, card girl,¡± Ablee said with a smirk. ¡°Your boss over there doesn¡¯t seem the patient type.¡±


    Without another word, she vanished into the stone, leaving Rhody clutching her deck and trying to piece together what came next.


    <hr>


    Ablee strode back into Zeph''s chamber, her stone-coated form gleaming faintly in the flickering torchlight. She held up the box, "If I hand these over, you promise not to shoot my Daddy..." Zeph''s face reddened, preparing to lambast this moron she''d trusted, but Ablee continued, "...until I''ve knocked his teeth out!"

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 5 - Storm

    <div>


    Zeph¡¯s fingers flexed around Applause. Her knuckles whitened and her glare sharpened. Her focus was locked on Ablee. ¡°Let me make one thing crystal clear: I don¡¯t pull my shots. Not for you, not for anyone. Your dad gets what he¡¯s got coming, teeth intact or not.¡±


    Ablee¡¯s arms folded across her chest, her stance defiant. The wooden box of ammunition nestled snugly in the crook of her arm. The sheen of her stone-coated skin caught the lantern light, giving her an ethereal glow. ¡°Too bad, witch,¡± she said, her smirk widening. ¡°If you plan to ruin my turn with him, these stay with me. Guess you¡¯ll just have to wait.¡±


    Zeph snarled. ¡°This isn¡¯t a game of hopscotch, kid. It¡¯s life or death. We probably won''t get the chance to take turns.¡±


    Ablee didn''t falter. Instead, she stepped forward, her nose lifting to nearly brush Zeph¡¯s chin. ¡°If you think that way, you haven''t played enough hopscotch! Cline knew if he skipped my turn, he was going to catch a fist."


    The tension between them crackled like an overdrawn bowstring, both standing firm and unyielding. The shadows around the chamber flickered and danced, caught up in the heat of their standoff.


    Zeph opened her mouth, her sharp tongue poised to cut through Ablee¡¯s bravado, but the words were cut short by a deafening CRASH. The walls shook. The two spun toward the noise, their argument evaporating like steam from a fire.


    Zeph¡¯s eyes narrowed, her grip on Applause tightening. Ablee¡¯s cocky demeanor wavered just slightly as she angled herself toward the sound. ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    From beyond the stone wall, a voice broke through the fading echoes of the crash¡ªpanicked, frantic, and unmistakably Rhody¡¯s. ¡°ZE¡ªPH!¡± Her shout was muffled, as if from the bottom of a deep well, but the fear in it cut clear.


    <hr>


    Inside Rhody¡¯s room, the air was weighted with a terrible presence. A towering figure stepped into the flickering lantern light, his massive shadow enveloping Rhody. His form was stone, just like the girl Ablee she''d met moments prior. Eyes burning with otherworldly light were fixed unerringly on the trembling acolyte.


    Rhody scrambled backward, clutching the red leather pouch of her Royal Tarot Deck. Its once-reassuring weight was a lifeline she didn''t know how to use. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, her mind fumbling to grasp a method of escape.


    He lurched forward, his stony hand sweeping through the air like a crusader''s flail. Rhody threw herself to the side, landing hard as the desk behind her exploded into splinters under the weight of his strike. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering in her chest, and dashed toward the corner of the room.


    He paused. His head, framed in thick braids, tilted slightly, almost mockingly, before he lunged again. Rhody ducked beneath his menacing arm, her ponytail whipping through the air as she dived. She crawled behind the upended remains of a table, overturning it with trembling hands in a desperate attempt at a barrier.


    He didn''t even slow, brushing the broken furniture aside like a bit of errant dust. His ogreish hand shot forward and snagged her by the leg, his grip unyielding as iron. Rhody let out a strangled cry, her nails clawing uselessly against the stone floor.


    ¡°Zeph!¡± She screamed again, her voice cracking with panic as he dragged her across the room. Her free foot kicked wildly, her hands scrambled for purchase, but his strength was absolute. The weight of Rhody''s pack didn''t slow him at all.


    <hr>


    Zeph¡¯s eyes snapped wide at the sound of Rhody''s cry. She turned on Ablee, her teeth bared. ¡°Give me the damn ammo!¡±


    Ablee, still clutching the box of bullets with infuriating nonchalance, raised an eyebrow. ¡°Gladly, just as soon as you make the DAMN promise!¡±


    Zeph didn''t waste another second. Her boot lashed out, catching Ablee square in the chest. The kick''s force sent Ablee hurtling backward. There was no thud of flesh on stone. SCHLORP, the surface of the wall wavered, thick and fluid, like wet paint disturbed by a careless brushstroke. Ablee was enveloped by the wall, her body swallowed whole.


    Tumbling into the hallway on the wall''s other side, she landed in a graceless heap. Her instincts flared, and her stone-coated skin ground the box of bullets against her chest.


    She looked around, dazed but unharmed. Her gaze caught on a familiar figure down the hall. Rinval, with his polearm propped at his side, turns his porcelain mask to meet her, eye to eye.


    Ablee climbed back to her feet, her gaze narrowing. "Yeah, I''m out of my cell. What you gonna do about it, old man?!¡±


    His porcelain mask tilted, the inked grin somehow smugger than before. ¡°Ah, the little painter''s slipped her restraints,¡± he said, his voice oozing disdain. ¡°I suppose I have time to give a lecture on obedience while your daddy tends to the pest problem.¡±


    Her eyes darted past Rinval, her chest tightening as she spotted her father at the far end of the hall. Rhody trailed behind him, her head and shoulders dragging the ground as he pulled her by the leg. Her small frame shuddered as she clawed at the stone floor.


    Ablee clenched her fists, ready to bolt after Karich, but Rinval stepped to the corridor''s center, the wicked blade of his polearm swinging across its width like a drawn curtain.


    ¡°I have not dismissed you,¡± he said, his tone dripping menace.


    Ablee didn''t hesitate. She lunged, her fist arcing toward his head. Rinval pivoted with infuriating grace; his cloak swirled as his polearm knocked her strike aside. She pressed forward, weaving beneath his counterattack and striking at his midsection. The shaft of his weapon slammed down on her knuckles, the sound of the impact reverberating like a thunderclap.


    ¡°Unlike a chain, a war band is as good as its strongest link,¡± Rinval mused, his tone contemplative. ¡°Everyone else must fall in line to be dragged behind them.¡± His words weighed down upon her shoulders, condensing her to the naive, inquisitive girl she was years prior. She gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to drink in her tutor''s insights.


    She rattled her head from side to side and launched into another barrage of blows, her fists relentless. Rinval¡¯s movements were slow, but compulsive. His polearm spinned in a hypnotic dance, drawing her blows to futilely waste upon its length.


    ¡°On your father''s stage, you''ll want for nothing,¡± Rinval said, his voice pressing against her defenses. ¡°If you''ll just play the role you''ve been given.¡±


    Ablee stumbled, her rhythm faltering. Her swings grow wilder, less precise, and Rinval exploited the opening, slamming the blunt end of his polearm into her ribs. She staggered back with a hiss, her breath leaving her in a sharp burst.


    ¡°I expected more,¡± Rinval drawled, positioning his weapon for an incapacitating strike at her head. ¡°Even Cline somehow surpassed you.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Before he could deliver the blow, a sharp, mocking laugh echoed through the hall. ¡°Oh, this is rich,¡± Zepharin¡¯s voice cut in, dripping with amusement "It seems someone does know how to handle this brat!"


    Rinval¡¯s head snapped toward the sound as Zeph strode into the corridor, her golden hair catching the lantern light. Blood stained her blouse, but her grin was sharper than the stolen blade in her hand.


    ¡°I''m still here,¡± she said, twirling the sword in a lazy arc. ¡°Sorry to disappoint.¡±


    ¡°Can you repeat that? These ears of mine have trouble with soft voices,¡± he said, his tone still mocking.


    Zeph scowled, "I know you heard me, you son of a bitch!" She didn''t wait for him to respond. Her blade swings in an unrefined arc, and Rinval blocks it, letting out a soft yawn.


    As Rinval countered Zeph¡¯s strike, Ablee seized the moment. Her eyes locked onto the gap in his guard, and with a surge of determination, she vaulted, cresting just over his weapon. Her body slipped through his, exiting coated in the blue and gold of his cloak. Rolling across the ground behind him, she stumbled.


    The world around her felt warped and wrong. She straightened, blinking hard as her ears rang. Her surroundings were overwhelmingly silent. The chaotic echoes of his clash with Zeph seemed distant, muffled. Panic lanced through her chest as she slapped her hand against the side of her head. ¡°What the hell!?¡± she muttered, the words loud in her own mind but disturbingly hollow in her ears.


    Behind her, Zeph¡¯s voice cut through the muted din, sharp and furious, but the warbling words held no meaning for Ablee. She turned, catching Zeph¡¯s blood-streaked figure gesturing wildly, her mouth moving with what must be a reprimand¡ªor a threat. Ablee squinted, trying to read her lips, but the effort was futile. She forced a lopsided grin and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up. ¡°Thanks for the assist!¡± she shouted, though her voice felt distorted, warped by the quiet in her head.


    Zeph¡¯s eyes narrowed. Her mouth moved faster now, her gestures sharper. Whatever she was saying, it wasn''t pleasant.


    Ablee decided she didn''t have time to linger. The outline of her father''s hulking form stained her vision, growing smaller with every passing second. Clutching the box of bullets tightly to her chest, Ablee shot Zeph a cheeky wave and took off down the corridor, her bare feet slapping the stone.


    Behind her, Zeph¡¯s frustration crescendoed into what could only be a scream, but Ablee barely registered it.


    She swerved sharply, passing through a section of wall into an adjoining passage. The maneuver jarred her senses further, and for a terrifying moment, her equilibrium tilted. She landed braced against the opposite wall, panting, her painted fingers scraping faint lines into the stone. ¡°Damn it,¡± she growled, shaking her head, hoping the motion would clear the haze.


    Somewhere ahead, Rhody¡¯s muffled cries broke through the silence like faint ripples on a still pond. Ablee pushed off the wall and charged forward, deaf to the chaos she left in her wake.


    <hr>


    Ablee hurtled through the keep. Her wild, uncoordinated movements were punctuated by the thuds of her shoulders against wall after wall. The power of her Painter''s Ambrosia flared instinctively as she took a hastily made shortcut. She misjudged her exit, stumbling out at a bizarre angle and landing with a muffled curse that felt distant in her head.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± she growled, scrambling to her feet. She squinted down the hall, trying to orient herself. The distorted echoes of her own voice bounced off the stone walls, making her flinch. ¡°Where did you go?¡± she muttered, steadying herself with a palm against cold stone.


    Behind her, Zeph wheeled around a corner, her golden hair trailing like a banner. She slowed just long enough to catch her breath. ¡°You are the worst runaway I¡¯ve ever chased!¡± she called, her tone exasperated. The words bounced uselessly off Ablee¡¯s dulled senses.


    Ablee turned, catching sight of Zeph¡¯s sharp expression, and scowled. ¡°You''re not getting these bullets, not til I''m done!¡±


    Zeph threw her hands up, baffled. ¡°Do you even hear yourself?¡±


    Ablee heard nothing, of course. She flipped Zeph an irritated wave and took off again, her form vanishing into the next wall. Zeph groaned, the sharp pain returned to her shoulder and she felt a wet warmth pooling down her chest. She forced a foot forward, then another, resuming the chase.


    This is a disaster, Zeph thought, shaking her head. But a grin snuck its way onto her lips, Damn if it''s not entertaining though.


    Farther back, Rinval strutted through the halls. His composed movements relayed little concern. "Can''t believe they slipped past me," he mused, ¡°This brings back fond memories, corralling those kids through these halls.¡±


    Ablee¡¯s eye caught on a glimmering object lying ahead of her. Without slowing her sprint, she bent sideways and scooped it up. A midnight blue card dotted with golden stars. "That girl." She huffed and surged forward, keeping her eyes peeled for any more along her path.


    Exiting another barrier of liquid stone, she found herself looking down an uneven stairwell. "Since when was this here!?" She shouted, tumbling down the steps and landing with a graceless thud. The bullet box flew from her grip, skidding ahead and hitting the base of the stairs with a resounding clatter.


    She slammed her fists against the ground before picking herself up. Her ears rang faintly as she jogged down the hall to reclaim her bargaining chip.


    Zeph eyed her from the top of the staircase, her boots skidding to a stop at their edge. ¡°You drop those bullets one more time!¡± she warned, her voice livid, ¡°I swear I''ll¡ª¡±


    Ablee turned to glare at the intrusive, garbled sound. ¡°What!?"


    Zeph blinked at the girl. ¡°You¡ªwait, can you not¡ª¡± she began, but Ablee turned and bolted again, clearly uninterested in whatever Zeph had to say.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± Zeph hissed, her temper bubbling. She took off after Ablee once more, her hand brushing the revolver at her side. ¡°This better end with bullets in my gun and Karich dead... Or I¡¯m tossing her off the nearest parapet.¡±


    Rinval strode after them into the stairwell, his polearm clanging against the banister as he gingerly descended it. ¡°The dungeon, huh,¡± he muttered, "What have you got planned, Karich?"


    Ahead, Ablee paused at a fork in the hallway, placing her hands on her knees. Her sense of direction was warped, and the muffled sounds around her seemed to bounce erratically. Bending down to pick up another card, she caught sight of Zeph upside down between her legs.


    ¡°Later, witch Lady!¡± Ablee shouted before passing through another wall.


    ¡°Stop doing that!¡± Zeph yelled, barreling down the hall after her.


    <hr>


    The chaotic trail of noise and destruction funneled them all toward Ablee¡¯s cell, its smeared chalk murals glowing faintly in The Tower''s light. Inside, Karich towered over Rhody, his massive stone heel planted firmly on her head, grinding it into the cold floor. Her breaths came in ragged bursts, her face pale with terror.


    Pin-Beard eyed Karich from the wall, shouting, ¡°Give it a rest, ya over-grown dogfish!¡± and punctuating his insult with a crude gesture.


    Ablee stumbled into the room, her stone-coated footsteps clacking against its floor. Her hearing, dulled to a frustrating muffle, made the scene feel distant, almost dreamlike. Her eyes locked onto Karich''s back. Something about him seemed off, but it was hard to tell what in her addled state. Trailing down the length of his fur-cape, her gaze landed on Rhody¡¯s trembling frame.


    Suddenly, her mind was yanked fifteen feet forward and three years back. She was lying in Rhody''s position, Karich''s boot digging into her temple.


    Her eyes slammed shut as tight as they could, and the ringing in her ears grew to a cacophony.


    "Stop...Stop!...STOP!" She fought her every inclination and forced her eyes back open, squinting tightly. She took in the scene, her eyelashes filtering its harshness, rendering it slightly more bearable by just the smallest amount.


    Ablee stepped closer, her fists clenched. ¡°Why are you doing this!?¡± she demanded, her voice raw with frustration. The sound rang strangely in her own head, amplified by the silence that surrounded her. ¡°Why are you doing this, to HER!?¡±


    Her shout felt swallowed by the space, leaving her words hollow and weightless. She saw some movement along her father''s back, and could feel movement in the air, but her ears registered no sound.


    A sudden, feral gust surged into the room, swirling about it with vengeance.


    Cline''s drawings, Pin-Beard, Talia, all of her friends, cried out. They shouted and screamed, as bit by bit, line by line, their forms were ripped from the walls. Ablee''s eyes twitched from side to side, seeing, but unable to hear, their pleas.


    The storm swirled as vibrant as a rainbow. In quickening circles, layer after layer was peeled away.


    The wind dragged across her, particles of chalk pelting against her stony skin. ¡°No! Stop!¡± she shouted, her ears drowned by the storm¡¯s furious roar. The cyclone churned, its presence suffocating and undeniable.


    As Ablee struggled to maintain her senses, Zeph crashed into her back like a battering ram, the force of the collision sending them both sprawling across the floor. The box of bullets clattered away, spinning into the vortex.


    ¡°What the hell?!¡± Ablee snarled. She struggled to push herself upright, but the wind pressed her down, its weight almost physical.


    Zeph groaned, clutching her revolver as she rolled onto her knees. ¡°What is¡ª¡± her voice cut off as her gaze locked on Karich; his head had turned, and his glowing eyes were fixed on them with cold, unfeeling precision.


    The storm intensified, a frenzy of chalky debris whipping through the air. Ablee¡¯s heart pounded as she lifted her head, the wind clawing at her hair and clothes. ¡°Zeph¡­¡± she began, her voice thin and strained, but her words were swallowed whole by the roaring tempest.


    The wind surged around Karich, and the cell itself seemed to shrink under the weight of its presence.


    Ablee and Zeph braced themselves as the storm howled louder.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 6 - Abandoned

    <div>


    Rhody¡¯s scream split the air, raw and piercing. Her fingernails scraped, futile, against the floor as Karich''s massive stone heel ground against her head. She twisted and writhed, feeling like an acorn beneath a cart''s wheel.


    ¡°Stop, damn it!¡± Ablee bellowed, her voice hoarse and desperate. It felt as if she was screaming into a void. The wind howled around her, battering her body with erratic gusts.


    Her ears popped from the storms'' intense pressure, the last of Rinval''s paint ripping from her ears. She froze, disoriented, as sounds of the world rushed back to her¡ªshouting, wind, and the muffled, haunting voices of the cell''s chalky community crying out from the vortex. She stumbled forward, pressing her hands to her temples, overwhelmed by the onslaught.


    Zeph spotted the wooden box of ammunition tumbling across the cell''s floor. Her hair flagged behind her as she lunged after it. The sudden movement caused her shoulder to spasm, and her balance wavered. Blood leaked through the fabric of her blouse, leaving a trail of crimson dots along the ground. She stretched out a trembling hand, trying to snatch up the box.


    ¡°Damn it, stay still!¡± She growled as it was wrenched away by another gust.


    Ablee braced against the wind, moving toward Karich. Her painted fists clenched tightly at her sides. ¡°HEY! Let her go!¡± she shouted, her voice splitting the cacophony.


    Karich''s head tilted at her command. His hollowed eyes cast an eerie light across the chamber as he responded in a dull monotone, "This is a family matter, assassin."


    Ablee¡¯s heart skipped. ¡°What the hell...¡± she muttered, taking in Karich''s unnatural, jerky movements. The realization struck her like a physical blow. ¡°What are you!? Where''s my dad!? Where''s Cline!?¡±


    The fake Karich didn''t react, its stone heel pressing harder against Rhody¡¯s head, eliciting another scream.


    ¡°ZEPH!¡± Rhody choked out, her voice a desperate plea.


    Ablee took another step forward, but a new voice interrupted her.


    ¡°Ahh, you made it back to your cell, just when I''d lost hope of you ever following instruction,¡± Rinval drawled, his figure framed in the doorway. He braced himself on his polearm, its length held horizontal against the portal.


    Ablee¡¯s glare snapped to him. ¡°Oh, NOW you show up?!¡± she spat, her voice a venomous snarl, "Five years of silence, and TODAY you decide to pay me a visit!"


    Rinval¡¯s presence seeped into the room, heavy and oppressive. His words dripped with disdain, each syllable sinking like a weight into Ablee¡¯s chest. ¡°Five years. If you''d taken my lessons to heed, you could have freed yourself a long, long time ago.¡± His polearm scraped against the stone as he stepped forward, his fog-like aura rolling across the room.


    Ablee¡¯s fists trembled, but her defiance remained. ¡°Where is he?!¡± she demanded, her voice cracking with fury. ¡°Where¡¯s the real Karich? And where is Cline?! What the hell is this... this golem?!¡±


    Rinval laughed¡ªa low, condescending chuckle. ¡°Oh, Ablee, how long did you think they''d stay?¡± He paused, his painted mask tilting in mock thought. ¡°Karich? Cline? They¡¯re long gone. Left years ago. They''re climbing The Tower. How could you not guess?¡±


    Ablee¡¯s breath caught, her nails digging into her palms. ¡°You¡¯re lying!¡± she shouted, stepping toward Rinval. The wind whipped around her, her painted form streaked with debris. "They need me," her eyes spun across her cell. "This was all to pull me in line!"


    ¡°They need you?¡± Rinval replied smoothly. ¡°Do you really think they¡¯d wait this long for the impudent runt to come to her senses?"


    Ablee¡¯s teeth ground. Her voice rose higher. ¡°They wouldn''t just leave me here to rot for no reason! If you think I¡¯m just gonna stand here while you spout this crap¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do exactly that,¡± Rinval cut her off, his tone razor-sharp. ¡°Because you¡¯ve already lost. Look around you.¡± He gestures grandly with his polearm. ¡°Your only hope of escape, a helpless acolyte and a gunslinger, bleeding out. Their presence here''s a mere coincidence.¡±


    Rhody gasps beneath the golem''s heel, clawing weakly at his leg. ¡°Zeph¡­¡± she rasped, her voice barely audible. The crushing weight on her head sent sharp spikes of pain radiating through her body.


    Ablee¡¯s focus snapped back to the fake father. ¡°You,¡± she growled. ¡°Tell me the truth! Where are they really?!¡±


    Its stone mouth moved again, but its words were drowned out by the storm. Frustration clawed at Ablee as she stepped closer. ¡°Speak up!¡±


    The golem hesitated, its jerky movements faltering as its gaze shifted between Ablee and Rhody. Confusion stains its chiseled face.


    Rinval observed the exchange with amusement, his voice cutting through the tension. ¡°Oh, this is rich. It thinks the acolyte is you!¡± He pointed his polearm at Rhody, his tone dripping with mockery. ¡°Ablee is the redhead, you idiot.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    It paused, trying to process the information. ¡°I can''t see¡­ color,¡± it droned, its voice hollow.


    ¡°Fine then, just crush the one beneath your foot!¡± Rinval barked, his patience snapping.


    Its movements grew more erratic, its confusion deepening. It leaned onto Rhody¡¯s head, and she let out a strangled cry.


    <hr>


    Rhody''s eyes loosed teary lines, the sounds of her ragged breath and thundering heart-beat filling her head, THUMP THUMP THUMP.. THUMP... THUMP..... THUMP....... The torrent of dusty chalk particles slowed to a crawl before her eyes. The warlord''s daughter, the unstoppable bouncing ball of frantic motion, stood frozen in place.


    I''m going to die...I have to do something! Rhody shouted internally.


    She struggled to think, to come up with any sort of worth-while plan.


    It... It thinks I''m its daughter...I can use that...No that''s stupid, something else, there''s got to be something else!


    Nothing came to mind. She frantically scanned the still-life scene in front of her, looking for anything that might prove useful. Her gaze settled on a card, one she''d used as a breadcrumb for Zeph to follow, tucked in the pocket of Ablee''s overalls. Only the top third was visible, but she recognized it, A hand descending from clouds, holding a sprouting wand, The Ace of Wands. Its message is clear. Just go for it; take a chance.


    She reached back a trembling hand, wrapping her fingers through her ink-blue ponytail. The world sped up as she yanked and dragged it roughly along the jagged edge of the golem''s stone boot. Its strands frayed and splayed out in a rough imitation of Ablee''s wild mane. With a burst of courage, she shouted, trying to mimic Ablee¡¯s voice: ¡°Fine, Dad! I give up! I¡¯ll do what you want¡ªjust let me up!¡±


    Ablee¡¯s jaw dropped in disbelief. ¡°Are you kidding me?!¡± she yelled, her voice dripping with outrage.


    Rinval¡¯s sharp voice cut through the room, admonishing the golem, "Figure it out, you damn puppet!".


    It hesitated, and then its foot lifted ever so slightly, easing the weight on Rhody''s head. Its glowing eyes flickered as it tried to process the surrounding chaos.


    Rhody squeezed her eyes shut, her heart pounding. Just keep going. Sell it. Convince it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be a good daughter!¡± she cried, her voice trembling with faux sincerity. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you order¡ªjust don¡¯t hurt me!"


    It paused again, its confusion deepening. Ablee, meanwhile, looked like she was about to explode. ¡°Good daughter?! He''ll never go for that load of crap!¡± she barked, taking a step toward Rhody.


    "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Rinval shrieked at the golem, stepping forward in outrage, his polearm scraping against the stone floor. ¡°That¡¯s not her, you idiot! The real Ablee is right¡ª¡± BANG!


    A bullet whistled through the storm, striking true against Rinval¡¯s porcelain mask and shattering it into jagged shards. Rinval stumbled back with a cry of shock, his free hand flying to his face.


    Zeph was on her knees, one hand braced against the floor, the other held out Applause. Her golden locks were plastered across her face''s furious expression. ¡°You talk too much,¡± she snarled.


    Rinval staggered, his composure shattered. He glanced between Zeph and Ablee, his fingers tightening on his polearm. For a split second, he looked ready to lunge¡ªbut then he snarled and ducked out of the doorway.


    Ablee pointed an accusing finger at Rhody. ¡°I would never¡ª¡±


    Zeph leveled Applause at Ablee. ¡°Shut up and let her work, or you''re next,¡± she snapped.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you just¡ª¡± Ablee began, only to be cut off again by Rhody¡¯s trembling voice.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help you, okay?¡± Rhody pleaded to the golem, her words thick with feigned submission. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever you need; just let me prove I can be useful.¡±


    It tilted its head, its hollow eyes flickering faintly as if trying to process her words. Rhody pushed herself further, her voice wavering in fear. ¡°Please, Dad! I want to help. Just¡­ give me the chance.¡±


    ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± Ablee snapped, her tone equal parts disbelief and fury. ¡°That¡¯s not me! I don¡¯t grovel, and I sure as hell don¡¯t¡ª"


    Zeph crashed into her from the side, tackling her to the ground with the force of a thunderbolt.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Zeph growled, wrestling to pin Ablee down, ¡°Do you want to get us all killed?!"


    ¡°Get off me, witch!¡± Ablee roared, writhing beneath Zeph¡¯s weight. Ablee''s hands slapped against the floor, her voice rising above the storm. ¡°She''s ruining my reputation!¡±


    Rhody didn''t waste the distraction. While the golem''s attention flickered between the bickering pair, she slid one of Ablee¡¯s discarded chain restraints across the floor. Her movements were quick but deliberate, her fingers working deftly to knot the chain around the golem''s massive stone ankle.


    Rhody shouted, ¡°Now''s our chance, Dad! The assassins are distracted; let me at ''em!¡± Beads of sweat rolled down her temples. She glanced up, her heart hammering as the golem began to move. Its hulking foot rose slowly, the chain around it pulling taut with a metallic whine.


    Rhody pulled her head free and scrambled away, rushing to escape its reach.


    Rinval peeked his head around the doorway and shouted, "You let the girl go?!"


    The golem spun, realization marking his face. It rushed after Rhody, and the chain tightened further around his leg. Its momentum worked against it, and the massive stone figure lurched awkwardly. The ground shuddered as it toppled forward, the chain snapping with a final, tortured groan. Crashing onto the floor, it tossed chunks of stone into the air like shrapnel.


    Zeph and Ablee froze mid-scuffle, both momentarily stunned by the sight. Ablee was the first to recover. ¡°Nice work, card girl,¡± she muttered. Then, in one fluid motion, she phased through Zeph''s body. Emerging on the other side, she''s coated in silky-black liquid.


    Zeph gasped, momentarily disoriented. Rising to her feet, Ablee ran her hands through her hair, streaking them with the remaining traces of iron paint from her earlier escape. Her grin sharpened into something feral and wild, her posture exuding a newfound swagger.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± Ablee said, her voice taking on a brash, Zeph-like edge. ¡°This feels good.¡±


    ¡°What the¡ª¡± Zeph started, but Ablee was already moving. She took off at a dead sprint, her laughter cutting through the chaos like a blade.


    Ablee lept onto the golem''s back, her legs locking around its thick stone neck. ¡°Alright, big guy,¡± she growled, her voice dripping with confidence. ¡°Let''s see what you''ve got!¡±


    Her fists, now coated in shimmering iron, slammed into its head with brutal precision. The collisions were relentless, a pounding rhythm that blended with the surrounding storm.


    The golem roared, the sound''s vibrations shaking the air. Its massive arms reached up, trying to grab Ablee and pry her off, but she clung tighter, ducking and twisting to avoid their grasp.


    ¡°Now tell me. Where are the real Karich and Cline?!¡± Ablee shouted, her strikes growing fiercer. Chips of stone flew with each impact.


    Zeph watched for a beat, then shook her head. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. ¡°She¡¯s completely insane,¡± she muttered before raising Applause and stepping toward the fight.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 7 - Ricochet

    "Haha!", Ablee yelled. The fake Karich threw up a massive hand, grasping for her. Clinging tightly to his neck, she twisted her body, letting out a raucous howl as she avoided his grasp.


    ¡°Not today, bastard!¡± Zeph¡¯s voice cut through the din. BANG, Applause barked, and a bullet slammed into Karich''s knuckles. Stone splinters flew as he swung his arm wildly, howling.


    "Thanks, witch!¡± Ablee yelled, her voice electric. She didn''t spare a glance behind her, too intent on battering the head of her father''s stone facsimile.


    The storm intensified, whipping furiously through the commotion. It battered Karich, his body becoming a canvas for the rainbow of chalky colors the villagers left behind. Vibrant streaks of red, gold, and blue coated its surface.


    Zeph, breathing heavily, reloaded Applause.


    Throwing a quick glance towards the door, she caught sight of Rinval, the collar of his cloak pulled tight across the lower half of his face. He met her gaze, and the room shrank, tightening around the chest wound that slowly glutted out her resolve.


    ¡°Huhah,¡± he chuckled, his tone as grating as sandpaper. ¡°What''s the matter, coming to terms with your mortality?¡±


    Zeph gritted her teeth, trying to steady herself. The pull of his influence gnawed at her focus, clouding her thoughts and making every glance in his direction feel like staring into the sun. Her shoulder''s incision burned with every breath, her body screaming for respite.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky I can¡¯t see straight,¡± she growled, taking to her feet and stumbling in his direction, her gaze on the floor. She threw a wild swing with Applause''s butt, which he sidestepped easily, his laughter cutting like a knife.


    Rhody skirted the cell to avoid the golem''s erratic movements. With some distance established, she dropped her pack to the ground with a thud. Rummaging through it, her movements were purposeful but frantic. She pulled out a bulky clothesiron, its wooden handle well worn from maintaining Zeph''s immaculate appearance.


    She gripped the iron tightly, her small frame taut with determination. Keeping to the chamber''s edge, she crept toward Rinval. Her breath hitched as she rounded his flank.


    Zeph noticed her approach out of the corner of her eye. She glared at the girl, her expression begging the question, ¡°What the hell are you going to do with that?¡± while pushing herself to maintain her assault and Rinval''s attention.


    Rhody bent her knees and popped up into the air, raising the iron high and bringing it down toward Rinval¡¯s back. He twisted at the last moment, the blow grazing his arm but doing little of substance.


    ¡°Amateurs,¡± Rinval sneered, spinning his polearm in a wide arc to keep both of them at bay, "Your employers must really hate you, sending you on such an ill-conceived errand." Zeph was forced to step back, her grip tightening on Applause.


    ¡°I can¡¯t get a bead on him!¡± Zeph snarled, frustration boiling over. ¡°Looking at him is like¡ª¡±


    Rinval took a step forward; his presence was overwhelming, his voice smooth and relentless. ¡°Like fighting a rip-tide."


    <hr>


    Ablee clung to the golem as it thrashed wildly. Her iron-coated fists pounded against its head, cracks spider-webbing outward with each strike. She grinned through gritted teeth, the force of each blow reverberating up her arms.


    ¡°Go ahead!¡± she taunted. ¡°Try and smash me! I dare you!¡±


    It obliged, slamming its back¡ªand Ablee along with it¡ªinto the nearest wall. The stone rippled, and Ablee''s body submerged into it. As he leaned back forward, she emerged unscathed, still perched and ready for another assault.


    The golem roared, its rage vibrating through the air. It swung its arm back again, its hand narrowly missing as Ablee ducked low and delivered another punishing strike to its fractured head.


    ¡°Come on now, you poor excuse for a Dad!¡± Ablee shouted, her voice ringing with exhilaration. ¡°You¡¯re barely making me work!¡±


    The storm still swirled in chaotic bursts, its chalky wind pummeling the Karich''s form. Vibrant colors seeped deeper into the golems cracks.


    <hr>


    Zeph sidestepped a swing from Rinval¡¯s polearm, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Rhody darted in again, swinging the iron with surprising force for someone her size. This time, it connected with Rinval¡¯s wrist, eliciting a hiss of annoyance as his grip momentarily faltered.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Nice work Rhody!¡± Zeph called, ¡°Keep at it!"


    Rinval''s polearm swung in a wide arc, and Rhody pulled back just in time to avoid it. ¡°You''re supposed to be fighting these guys!¡± she shot back at Zeph.


    Zeph raised Applause, but the swirling disorientation brought on by Rinval¡¯s presence threw her aim. BANG! Zeph muttered a curse under her breath as the shot went wide.


    Ablee, meanwhile, rode out another of the golem''s violent thrashes. Her relentless assault did not slow. Each strike against its head landed with an audible crunch, the fractures in its surface growing wider, more jagged.


    ¡°Time to crack this egg!¡± Ablee shouted, laughter bubbling out between her words. She felt its movements slowing, turning desperate. Its strength waned under the combined assault of the storm and her iron fists.


    ¡°Zeph!¡± Rhody called out, sharp and urgent. She had her iron raised defensively as Rinval cleaved strike after strike in her direction. ¡°Help!?¡±


    The chaos around Rhody began to feel distant and slow, like the world had been submerged in thick syrup. Her breath steadied as the storm of movement congealed into a tableau of possibility. She realized, this sensation¡ª she was too frightened to recognize it earlier. It was Clarity, the gift of an Ace of Wands. I''m on a path! she squealed internally.


    She felt it thrumming within her, igniting her senses and sharpening her focus. The frantic energy of just moments before seeped out of her pores, replaced with a dutiful calm. She knew what she had to do: get Zeph a clean shot at Rinval.


    Her eyes darted across the room, cataloging every angle, every surface. Zeph circled him warily, her revolver in hand, but her stance faltering. Rhody saw it¡ªthe subtle tilt of Zeph¡¯s frame, the way her shoulders swayed with each shallow breath. Zeph was barely holding on.


    Rhody clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the iron in her hand. The stone walls of the room loomed around her, their unyielding surfaces mocking her desperate calculations. A straight shot at Rinval was impossible; Zeph¡¯s hesitation and Rinval¡¯s deft movements wouldn''t let it happen. A missed bullet could ricochet and strike Ablee, Zeph, or herself.


    But a controlled ricochet...


    Her gaze fell to the iron in her hand, its scuffed surface reflecting the flickering torchlight. The realization struck her with the force of a thunderclap. She could make this work.


    Rhody took a deep breath and shifted her weight, stepping back to position herself. She angled the iron carefully, its face tilted to catch the bullet just right. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but her grip remained steady. She glanced up at Zeph.


    ¡°Zeph!¡± she shouted, her voice cutting through the din. Time stretched as Zeph¡¯s head snapped toward her, her golden hair haloing across her face. Rhody didn''t waste a second, raising the iron slightly and then shifting her gaze from it to Rinval. Her meaning was clear: Here. Shoot here.


    Zeph¡¯s brow furrowed, the weight of Rhody¡¯s plan crashing into her like a blow. ¡°Rhody, no,¡± she growled, shaking her head as if to dispel the idea. Her grip on Applause tightened, but she didn''t raise it. ¡°You¡¯re in the line of fire!¡±


    ¡°Trust me!¡± Rhody snapped, her voice firm, louder than she¡¯d ever known it to be. ¡°You can do this!¡±


    Zeph hesitated; her instincts warred with her exhaustion. Her aim hadn''t been steady since the fight began. Rinval paced lazily toward her, his polearm poised like a tailor''s needle. His every step radiated oppressive weight.


    ¡°If I miss...¡± Zeph growled, her voice barely audible over the storm.


    Rhody''s eyes locked onto Zeph''s like a flare through the haze of Rinval''s presence. ¡°You''re Zeph, you don¡¯t miss!¡±


    Zeph¡¯s expression shifted, her lips pressing into a tight line. She exhaled sharply, her resolve hardening. ¡°Hold tight!¡± she shouted, raising Applause. Her finger curled around the trigger, and for a brief moment, the world was completely silent.


    BANG!


    The bullet tore from the revolver, a streak of silver against the tumultuous backdrop of the room. It pounded the iron in Rhody''s hands, sending shockwaves through her body that made her teeth ache. The collision rang out like a bell, and the bullet ricocheted cleanly, flying toward its true target.


    The shot blew through his hand with a sickening crack, shattering bone. His polearm clanged against the floor, and he howled in pain, his voice raw and venomous.


    Zeph didn''t wait. She surged forward, her exhaustion forgotten in a rush of adrenaline. Applause shifted in her grip, and as Rinval clutched his wounded hand, she brought the butt of the revolver down hard on his head. The impact was sharp, brutal, and final. Rinval collapsed to the ground in an awkward heap.


    The sudden absence of Rinval''s spiritual pressure was exhilarating. Zeph felt like she''d just clawed her way through six feet of dirt to take a breath of fresh air. She lowered Applause, her shoulders heaving. The girl Ablee let out a wild holler from the other side of the room, clearly ecstatic to be punishing her father''s imitator.


    ¡°They taught you that shit at the temple?¡± Zeph asked Rhody, her tone laced with respect.


    Rhody exhaled shakily, the weight of the moment crashing over her now that her new-found clarity had passed. She forced a wavering grin. ¡°No, that''s why I''m here.¡±


    Zeph''s eyes flicked to Rinval¡¯s unconscious form before settling on Ablee and the golem. ¡°I guess we should help the brat...¡±


    Rhody nodded, the iron still clutched tightly in her hand. Her body ached, and her nerves were frayed, but she felt a flicker of pride. I did it.


    <hr>


    The golem staggered, its towering frame cracking under the relentless assault. Its fractured surface spilled powdery chalk dust with every lumbering step. Ablee perched precariously on its back, the vibrations crawling up her stony arms like spiderwebs of tension. She gritted her teeth, hammering blow after blow onto his crumbling head, her legs locked tightly around its neck.


    It roared¡ªa hollow, grinding sound¡ªand suddenly lurched toward the windowed wall. Its glowing eyes fix on the jagged cliff-side beyond as it gathers the last of its waning strength. Ablee glanced up, her smirk faltering as she realized its intention.


    "Oh no you don''t!" she growled, pulling back her fist for another strike.


    Before she could think to pull herself free, it charged forward, its massive weight breaking through the keep''s outer wall. A shower of stone and dust surrounded them as they plummeted.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 8 - Falling

    <div>


    The earth rose to meet Ablee like a fist. A deafening CRACK split the mountainside as the fake Karich¡¯s massive frame crashed down, shattering stone and sending a shock wave rippling through the ground. Ablee''s lungs collapsed as she broke the surface of dirt-turned paint, plummeting into it. The suffocating pressure became unbearable as she sank deeper. She wrenched her body and twisted, spinning into an abyss of thick, syrupy black.


    She had no breath to scream, lost in oppressive silence. The liquid soil pressed in from all sides, clinging to her skin and filling her nose and ears. Ablee thrashed, clawing at the formless expanse, her limbs flailing in search of something solid. There was nothing, just the endless swirl of dark liquid, a cage of her own making, suffocating her.


    Move. MOVE! Her mind screamed the command, but her body felt leaden, her lungs screaming for air. Panic churned in her gut. But then¡ªfaint, distorted, and distant¡ªa voice cut through the void.


    ¡°Ey lass, ye'' down there!?¡± It was Pin-Beard¡¯s unmistakable holler, warped and garbled as if spoken into a can on the other end of a string.


    Her panic lost some grip, wrestled away by the familiar sound. Her chest heaved with the effort to stay calm, to listen. The voice grew louder, more insistent. ¡°GET YERSELF UP HERE, GIRL!¡±


    A flicker of determination reignited in her chest. Ablee reoriented her body, kicking her legs, and pushed through the viscous soup. Her hands clawed forward, finding no purchase but refusing to quit. The sound of Pin-Beard¡¯s coaxing voice grew sharper in the distance.


    Then¡ªcontact. Her fingers brushed against something solid, cold, and unyielding. She strained, digging her nails into the surface. Her muscles screamed in protest, and her lungs burned as she forced her way upward. The blackness pulled at her, trying to drag her back, but she howled through gritted teeth.


    Vice-like fingers of two hands enclosed around her exposed wrist and then yanked. She was dragged from the ground. As her head burst through the surface, she gulped up the sharp, pine-scented air of the mountains. Coughing violently, her chest heaved as she was pulled up, inch by inch. The surreal colors of the breaking dawn flickered across her vision, and she recognized the flowing blonde hair of the assassin. Behind Zeph, a rope twirled in the wind, anchored up above in the gaping wall of the Keep. The other girl, Rhody, watched from the newly demolished balcony, her chest heaving, "How about some warning... the next time you jump out of a building, Zeph!? That''s gotta be at least... a four-story drop!"


    Ablee collapsed, brown paint dripping from her trembling hands. A sharp laugh escaped her, bitter and triumphant.


    The golem''s wreckage groaned under its own weight, a jagged mess of broken chalk-stained stone. Ablee pushed up to a seated position, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Her ribs protested each movement, but her eyes stayed locked to a large chunk of debris. Half of Pin-Beard¡¯s chalky figure was illustrated along its side, cut at the waist by a jagged break in the stone. Depicted upside-down, his head was buried beneath the earth''s surface. "Well, this sure isn''t ideal," he chuckled.


    ¡°Hang on, you old barnacle,¡± Ablee muttered, crawling her way over to him. Pulling herself up to a squat, she grabbed hold of the uneven edges of a hunk of rubble. The jagged stone dug into her palms, but she didn''t flinch. Leaning into it, her muscles trembled, and she wedged her shoulder beneath its immense weight.


    ¡°C¡¯mon¡­¡± she growled, her voice raw with effort. The stone shifted a fraction of an inch, groaning like a grizzly rising from hibernation. Her knees buckled, but she dug her heels in, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. Her breath hissed through gritted teeth, "Gimme a hand, witch!"


    Ablee received no response.


    "Fine then..." She powered on and shoved with a final, primal roar. The mass rose and crashed to its side, sending up a cloud of rainbow-colored chalk dust. Pin-Beard¡¯s dirt-smeared face let out a guffawing laugh. He adjusted his tricorn hat with exaggerated dignity. ¡°That¡¯s an ounce or two better, thank ya, girl!¡±


    Ablee collapsed to her knees, ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± she snapped back, wiping a streak of dripping paint from her brow. Pin-Beard raised his mug to her, his grin as wide as his cartoonish face could allow. ¡°Aye! Never doubted ya for a second!¡±


    Before Ablee could retort, the air shifted. The living wind howled, curling around them like a hunting predator. The voices of the chalk villagers, trapped within its whirling form, rose in a dissonant chorus. Pin-Beard looked up, his grin turning wistful. ¡°Well now. Guess my ship¡¯s leaving port!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Ablee asked, her chin dropping, ¡°Where are you all going?¡±


    The wind caught against his chalky form, swirling him into its spectral embrace. He rose with the storm, his tricorn hat barely holding to his head. ¡°Wherever the wind takes us, lass! That¡¯s the pirate way!¡± he hollered, his voice echoing as he was carried upward. ¡°You got us out of that brig, dear girl! Give Cline our best, and your father your worst!¡±


    Ablee stared into the onslaught of color, the storm growing more brilliant with each passing second. As Pin-Beard ascended, the inevitable happened¡ªhis hat caught in the wind, whipping away and dissipating in a jaunty spiral. ¡°Wait¡ªblasted thing!¡± he yelled, flailing in mid-air to grab it. His form smeared into a trail of black and red dust. The ridiculous scramble drew a snort of laughter from Ablee, her chest heaving as she watched him vanish into the whirlwind.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    The storm rose higher and higher, the voices of the villagers retreating with it. Completing a final figure-eight, it whisked away, Tower-ward. Ablee sat back, paint-streaked and aching, a crooked grin tugging at her lips. ¡°What a clown.¡±


    She pulled herself upright, leaning against the golem¡¯s broken remains. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she let out a sharp, bitter laugh.


    A sound cut through the quiet¡ªthe scraping of rope against stone. Ablee¡¯s smile faltered as her head tilted toward the noise. The taut line quivered as a figure descended it in frantic slides. It was Rhody, the younger one with the keen eyes and nervous hands, her red pouch bouncing against her chest.


    Ablee¡¯s brow arched. ¡°She doesn¡¯t waste any time,¡± she muttered.


    Rhody clattered into the gravel at the keep¡¯s base with a graceless thud, immediately stumbling over to Zeph. The assassin lay in the rubble nearby, her flat-brimmed hat thrown aside. Her breathing was shallow, and blood pooled at her side.


    ¡°Zeph!¡± Rhody''s frantic voice called out as dropped to her knees beside the woman. She shook Zeph''s shoulder, but the woman only groaned, her eyes fluttering. Rhody gasped, ¡°Oh gods. That''s so much blood. Not good¡ªnot good.¡±


    Ablee ambled closer. ¡°Yeah, Rinval stung her pretty bad¡­¡±


    Rhody¡¯s head snapped up, her face flushed with anger and panic. ¡°You! She pushed herself this far to save you! Fix her like you did before!¡±


    ¡°Save me?" Ablee ran a hand through her hair, "I had already reached the surface¡­¡±


    Rhody¡¯s voice caught as Zeph¡¯s hand weakly rose, catching her wrist. ¡°Stop¡­ bickering,¡± Zeph muttered, her voice thin but edged with steel. She lifted her head just enough to pin Ablee with a glare. ¡°You¡­ You¡¯re my captive...¡±


    Ablee crouched down, her grin sharp. ¡°Oh yeah? Just let me know when you¡¯re ready to slap the cuffs on. Oh, wait.¡± She tapped her wrist mockingly. ¡°You¡¯d need to actually stand for that.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Rhody snapped, surprising even herself. ¡°If you¡¯re going to mock her, then at least do your little trick to stop the bleeding!¡±


    Ablee¡¯s expression softened just slightly. Brushing the painted dirt from her hands, she leaned over Zeph. ¡°Fine. But you¡¯ll need to tend her wound when I¡¯m done. My stuff doesn¡¯t last long.¡±


    Ablee undid the top two buttons of Zeph¡¯s black blouse and peeled its fabric away from her shoulders. As she¡¯d done before, she finger-painted clean liquid skin onto Zeph¡¯s dribbling wound. Rhody watched with wide, anxious eyes, her knuckles white as they gripped Zeph¡¯s clammy hand. The assassin winced faintly, her breath shallow but steadying.


    ¡°There, I¡¯d say we¡¯re even,¡± Ablee declared, plopping down onto the ground to rest her head against a broken stone. Rhody looked to Zeph with concern before retreating to the rope, heading back up to retrieve her pack.


    She re-descended with the pack a short while later, having shackled Rinval in the cell. Zeph and Ablee both lay sprawled out, Zeph¡¯s shallow breaths punctuated by Ablees irksome snoring.


    Rhody dug through the pack for alcohol and bandages. The logbook caught her eye, its black leather cover peeking out of its pocket. She turned to look at the wild-haired girl snoozing beside her charge. She¡¯s on the list, Rhody thought, One of the six Urough¡¯s, guilty of consuming Ambrosia. We¡¯re going to have to kill her...I should have told Zeph earlier¡­


    Applause hung limp on Zeph¡¯s hip, gleaming in the Tower-light. Rhody¡¯s mind twisted, and she felt slimy just considering it. We can¡¯t let her get away, and Zeph won¡¯t have the strength when they wake up.


    She trudged over to them, loose stone crackling beneath her boots. Ablee stirred for a moment, shifting onto her side and pulling her knees to her chest.


    Applause¡¯s presence purred to Rhody. This is an acolyte¡¯s duty.


    But another voice echoed in her ear, Brenna¡¯s, her friend who had abandoned this honor to her, ¡°It¡¯s not as great as it seems.¡±


    <hr>


    When Zeph stirred, the warmth of the sun radiated through her hat, which Rhody had laid across the side of her face. Zeph grabbed its top and lifted it, her eyes fixing on Ablee. ¡°Rhody¡­ you should¡­ tie her up¡­¡± she murmured, her voice raspy but firm.


    Rhody, perched on a stone¡¯s edge, looked at the girl, ¡°I don¡¯t know if that¡¯d do us much good. You saw what she¡¯s capable of.¡±


    ¡°Heh, guess you¡¯re right¡­ We need her, though¡­ She can probably help us find Karich¡­¡± Zeph rolled her shoulders and groaned, ¡°Ahh, that pinches.¡±


    ¡°Zeph, about that¡­¡± Rhody stumbled over her words.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Zeph said, leveling her eyes with Rhody¡¯s.


    ¡°Well¡­ I know you¡¯ve told me many times¡­ Not to discuss future marks¡­¡± The words slipped from Rhody in hesitant spurts.


    Zeph winced as she raised her left hand to pinch her nose, ¡°Stop¡­ I don¡¯t care what you think I need to know. If it¡¯s going to pull my focus from Karich, stop. Just stop.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ Alright.¡± Rhody turned to look at Ablee, the girl¡¯s eyes were blinking awake.


    Ablee tilted her head up to take in the two and let out an exaggerated yawn, ¡°Looks like you survived!¡±


    Zeph¡¯s head spun to face her, her whip-like reflexes pulling the little remaining blood from her face. She went white and lay her scowling cheek on the ground, ¡°Yes,¡± Zeph¡¯s shaking right hand pulled Applause from its holster and pointed it at Ablee, ¡°Now don¡¯t do anything stupid. You¡¯re coming with us.¡±


    Ablee snorted, leaning back on her hands with a smirk. ¡°Really? That¡¯s the first thing you have to say? Not, ¡®Thanks for patching me up, Ablee. You¡¯re a lifesaver?¡±


    Zeph tried to sit up, wincing as Rhody rushed to steady her. Her golden hair clung to her face, streaked with sweat and dirt. ¡°You¡¯re helping us find your father,¡± she said, her tone still sharp despite the weakness in her voice.


    Ablee rolled her eyes. ¡°What makes you think I¡¯m going to turn that offer down? He¡¯s going up The Tower. So am I. Join my climbing party, and you can do whatever you want to him when we pass him by. After I¡¯ve had my turn, of course!¡±


    Her lip twitched, and Zeph lowered Applause, ¡°We¡¯re not joining your climbing party. You are my captive. I run this show.¡±


    Ablee stared at her for a long moment. Finally, she lets out a low laugh. ¡°You two can call this whatever you want, I¡¯m just glad to have you on board!¡±

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 9 - Libation

    The trio¡¯s descent into Row stirred the village like a gust through dry leaves. Ablee led the way, striding boldly into the central square, her grin sharp as she scanned the villagers huddled in cautious clusters. Broken beams and sagging rooftops, the scars of Karich''s iron rule, framed the scene. Ablee planted her hands on her hips, her voice ringing out.


    ¡°Karich is gone!¡± she declared, the words carrying over the murmur of the crowd. ¡°The Keep¡¯s wide open, waiting for you to take it!¡±


    A beat of stunned silence followed, the villagers exchanging wide-eyed glances. Before the embers of her statement could catch, Zeph stepped forward, her shadow cutting across Ablee.


    ¡°We cleared the Keep.¡± she corrected sharply, Applause gleaming faintly at her side. Her eyes narrowed as she leveled them at Ablee. ¡°Don¡¯t go claiming credit for what I did.¡±


    Ablee rolled her eyes, turning to face Zeph. ¡°You''re here with me; your help was implied.¡±


    The two locked eyes and sparks flew between them. Ablee¡¯s smirk widened, defiant, while Zeph¡¯s jaw tightened, her stance stiff with irritation. Around them, the villagers whispered, shifting uneasily as they watched the spectacle.


    Rhody stepped forward, her voice pitched awkwardly between mediation and desperation. ¡°Maybe we could...focus on the villagers, what this means for them¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stay out of this, Rhody!¡± they snapped in unison, their combined irritation cutting her short.


    The villagers, cautiously emboldened by the strange display, grew louder. A few straightened their shoulders, gripping old tools and makeshift weapons. The Keep, once a symbol of fear, suddenly seems¡­ reachable.


    Ablee''s energy was infectious as she spun to face the gathering villagers. ¡°You¡¯ve all been waiting for this,¡± she said, her voice booming like a slege-hammer against stone. She swept an arm toward the distant silhouette of The Long Fang Mountains Keep, its dark spires jutting against the early dawn. ¡°Karich¡¯s reign is over! No more patrols shaking you down for scraps. No more curfews!¡±


    The crowd shifted: their faces a blend of hope and hesitation. Ablee leaned into their uncertainty, her grin sharp, her voice rose with fiery conviction. ¡°That fortress is yours! It¡¯s time you took it back and showed the world that Row won¡¯t be stepped on anymore!¡±


    Zeph steppped forward, her presence adding to the swell of emotion. Her tone was low and commanding. ¡°The Keep¡¯s defenses have been dealt with. The warband is in disarray. But that window won¡¯t stay open forever.¡± She leveled her gaze at the villagers, her eyes set and unwavering. ¡°You¡¯ve got a chance to reclaim what¡¯s yours. Don¡¯t waste it!¡±


    Ablee flashed her a sideways glance, lips quirking in a half-smirk. The contrast between Zeph¡¯s icy precision and her own blazing passion was palpable yet oddly complementary. ¡°See?¡± Ablee added, spinning back to the crowd. ¡°Even the witch agrees. You¡¯ve got this!¡±


    The villagers exchanged uncertain looks, but Ablee¡¯s fervor and Zeph¡¯s confidence struck a chord. Slowly, heads began to nod. A blacksmith stepped forward, hammer in hand. Behind him, a farmer hefted a battered scythe. The murmurs swelled into determined chatter. What once felt impossible now seemed inevitable.


    The trio continued down the street as the village set into action.


    <hr>


    The heavy wooden doors of Row''s garrison broke open. Inside the dimly lit hall, a small group of the remaining watchmen discussed the previous night''s events. At the trio''s intrusion, they rose to their feet, spears aloft, with fear in their eyes. Their shoulders stiffened as they recognized the chilling presence of the gunslinger. Zeph didn''t need to speak; the gleam of Applause at her hip did all the talking.


    One guard, braver or stupider than the rest, stepped forward, a halberd clutched tightly in his trembling hands. ¡°H-halt!¡± he barked, though his voice wavered. ¡°You¡¯re not¡ª¡±


    Applause cleared its holster with a smooth, almost lazy motion. Its barrel pointed at the man¡¯s chest, and the room froze. ¡°This is so played out,¡± Zeph said, her voice touched with annoyance. ¡°Can we just hurry things along? I''m starving.¡±


    He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his feet. His halberd clattered to the ground. Behind him, the other soldiers exchanged uncertain looks, their confidence evaporating in the face of Zeph¡¯s calm menace.


    Ablee took a step forward, her grin wicked, ¡°Alright now, I KNOW you fellas have some good grub around here; bring it out!"


    Rhody peeked around the garrison''s entrance, clutching her deck''s pouch.


    ¡°Now,¡± Zeph said, her tone brooking no argument, ¡°where¡¯s the cook?¡±


    The kitchen door swung open with a dramatic creak, revealing a whirlwind of motion. Pots clanged against counters and steam billows from an oversized cauldron. Standing before them was a stout, mustachioed man with a chef¡¯s hat leaning precariously to one side. He was wielding a ladle like a sword.


    ¡°Ahm right here!¡± he bellowed, glowering at the girls. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of Zeph and Applause, but his bravado held. ¡°And this is not a tavern! Whatever you¡¯re here for, the answer is NO!¡± He swung the ladle, disgorging an errant droplet of bisque that Zeph sidestepped with a tsk.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Zeph took a deliberate step forward, her boots clicking against the floor. Her sharp, calculating gaze was enough to make the chef''s assistants freeze mid-stir. ¡°We¡¯re here for the best you¡¯ve got,¡± she said, snatching the ladle from his hand. Running her tongue along its scoop, her face scrunched. ¡°And gods help you if it''s no better than this.¡±


    ¡°The best?¡± The cook scoffed, his hand flying to his chest as though personally affronted. ¡°Impossible! The best is for officers only!¡±


    A sous chef with long, mint-green hair approached the man, "Sorry to interrupt Chef, but I believe that''s Karich''s daughter; she must be back from boarding school."


    Ablee erupted, "Don''t you DARE CALL ME THAT! AND BOARDING SCHOOL?!" she stormed forward, fists balling at her sides.


    Rhody rushed behind her, grabbing ahold of the straps of Ablee''s overalls. ¡°Hey now, we don''t need to start another fight!"


    The cook sputtered and raised his hands in defeat. ¡°Fine, fine! Steaks and ale for the lord''s guests!¡± he cried, his tone dripping with melodrama. ?


    Zeph smirked and threw out an arm to block Ablee''s advance. Turning to the livid girl, she mouthed, "Don''t you ruin this for me."


    <hr>


    The table groaned beneath the weight of their feast, thick slabs of meat seared to perfection and frothy mugs of ale.


    The scent of charred herbs and sizzling fat hangs heavy in the air. Without any warning, Ablee lunged at the nearest plate, tearing into her steak with a ferocity that would make a wild animal blush.


    ¡°Is¡­ is she even chewing?¡± Rhody whispered, her wide eyes darting between Ablee¡¯s rapid-fire bites and the pile of bones already forming beside her plate.


    Ablee paused, her mouth full, and flashed Rhody a grease-slick grin. ¡°Chewing¡¯s overrated,¡± she said through a muffled mouthful and washed it down with a long gulp of ale.


    It was Ablee''s first taste of alcohol, and it showed. By her second mug, her cheeks were flushed, and her actions somehow grew wilder. A cloth napkin folded into a jaunty hat rested atop her head. ¡°Arr tis me, Captain Steakbeard, Terror of Row!¡± Ablee announced, a 20 oz rib-eye hanging from her teeth.


    Rhody looked up to Zeph, muttering under her breath, ¡°Are you sure we need her?¡±


    <hr>


    The chaos crescendoed when there was one steak left, sitting tantalizingly in the center of the table. Zeph leaned forward to grab it with her fork, but Ablee¡¯s hand slammed down first, her fingers curling around it.


    ¡°It¡¯s mine!¡± Ablee declared, her drunken slur undermining the menace in her voice.


    Zeph leveled Applause at the girl and said, ¡°Hands off.¡±


    Ablee glared and then slapped her hand down through the steak, painting her palm and fingers with glistening seared goodness.


    "Whatever," she said and began gnawing on one of her knuckles, drawing out a flood of red juices that dribbled down her chin.


    Zeph recoiled, disgust flashing across her face. ¡°Fine. Take it. Just¡­ stop doing that.¡±


    Ablee beamed victorious and tore into her prize.


    Zeph sighed, leaning back and sipping her ale. She observed her "captive," half-amused, half-regretful, as subdued soldiers glanced at her in awe and trepidation. The assassin smirked, toasting them with her mug. ¡°Chew on that.¡±


    The Tower dominated the horizon outside the garrison window, rising from the earth like the spine of an ancient behemoth, its base lost in the hazy distance. Its immense form stretched into the heavens, a monolith of white stone speckled with patches of green and blue. The sunlight caught along its marbled side, shimmering like a mirage.


    Jagged protrusions jutted from its surface, forming irregular ledges and overhangs. Weaving an ever-changing course around them were faint trails of ley energy, the currents upon which Tower Liners sail.


    Ablee stood at the window, her face illuminated by the golden glow of the sun. Her eyes were fixed on the Tower, wide and unblinking, her grin a mixture of determination and exhilaration. ¡°That,¡± she said, her voice low and reverent, ¡°is all I''ve waited for.¡±


    Rhody glanced up from her mug, puzzled. ¡°You mean the giant forbidden death pillar?¡±


    ¡°Not just a pillar.¡± Ablee snapped, whirling around, her face set with unmatched intensity. ¡°It¡¯s a challenge. A reckoning. You think anyone who climbs that thing is the same when they reach the top?¡± She pointed a finger at it, her voice rising with fervor. ¡°Every crack, every ledge, every windblown inch of it screams, ¡®You can¡¯t.¡±


    Zeph watched her from her seat, chin resting on her palm. ¡°You''re right, you can''t. Oakley''s the only one to ever top The Tower, and she''s dead.¡±


    "She proved it can be done, and I''m going to be next." Ablee raised her mug, swirling the last dregs of her ale. ¡°You know,¡± she said casually, ¡°Karich commissioned a Liner; my original plan was to steal it.¡±


    Rhody froze mid-sip, her eyes wide. ¡°Steal a¡­ You can''t just steal a Liner!¡±


    Ablee waved a hand. ¡°Of course, the old bastard''s already taken off in it, so I guess we¡¯ll just have to borrow another one.¡±


    Rhody choked. ¡°Borrow? You mean steal another one?¡± Her voice rose in pitch with each word. ¡°Are you insane? That¡¯s not just illegal¡ªit¡¯s insanely illegal! We¡¯ll report to the King of Wands Temple and requisition a room on board one the proper way.¡±


    Zeph snorted, tipping her hat back as she walked to the window ledge. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s not happening.¡±


    Rhody turned on her, aghast. ¡°What do you mean, not happening? It¡¯s the only way we can get up there to finish your mark¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back to the Temple empty-handed,¡± Zeph cut in sharply. ¡°They could drop the marks, thinking it''s not worth chasing Ablee''s Dad up the death-pillar. That would be a permanent stain on my record.¡± Her tone dropped lower, cold as steel. ¡°We¡¯ll handle this Liner situation ourselves, finish the mission, and then report back. No detours.¡±


    Rhody bristled. ¡°Climbing The Tower without the church¡¯s permission is punishable by death! You''d be better off consuming Ambrosia.¡±


    Zeph raised an eyebrow, smirking. ¡°They don¡¯t need to know how we did it, only that we succeeded. Now, do I need to take you captive too?¡±


    Rhody sputtered, her resolve cracking under Zeph¡¯s intensity. ¡°I¡­uh...¡± she mutters.


    Ablee shot the girl an amused smile, ¡°That''s the spirit, Rhody! Hope you enjoy bending the rules," then returned her attention to The Tower and hashing out plans with Zeph.


    <hr>


    Rhody sat on the edge of the room, her tarot deck fanned absently in her hands, though she wasn''t reading the cards. Her eyes flicked between Zeph, lounging confidently with her boots kicked up on the table, and Ablee, still half-drunk and laughing as she tried to balance a fork on her nose. The warmth of the feast, the lighthearted chaos¡ªthey should be comforting. But Rhody felt a knot tightening in her chest.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 10 - Race!

    Ablee and Zeph marched out of Row side by side in lock-step, both refusing to give up the lead. A chill wind rolled over them as heavy gray clouds pooled on the horizon, blocking out the sun. Trailing behind the pair, Rhody pulled her cloak tight against the biting air. Her gaze locked on the jagged path snaking down from the Long Fang Mountains, barely wider than the breadth of a wagon''s wheels. It twisted and coiled like a serpent''s spine, its sharp edges promising a quick end to anyone who slipped. Far below, valleys lie shrouded in shadow, their depths swallowing the fading light. The only reprieve from the gloom came from the distant glow of their destination, the plateau city of Mango Port.


    It towered far in the distance above the valley floor, a monolith crowned with a lattice of ley-line energy. Its rocky flanks glistened with blue-lit frost. The glowing currents of the surrounding Ley-Lines disappeared into the looming darkness like the threads of a vast, celestial loom. Rhody¡¯s eyes lingered too long on the sight, and a loose stone shifted under her boot. She staggered, her arms flailing for balance.


    ¡°Careful there,¡± Zeph said, catching her by the arm. Her voice carried a wry lilt as though the drop below was no more concerning than a puddle.


    Rhody swallowed, staring at the yawning abyss below. ¡°I''ve seen plates of spaghetti with less twists and turns. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow. Climbing up it with the sun''s light was one thing; I really don''t want to try navigating this in the dark."


    Ablee laughed, sharp and full of challenge. She planted her hands on her hips and fixed Rhody with a mischievous grin. ¡°We''ll be in the valley well before night!¡±


    Rhody raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean? We''ve got an hour, maybe two...¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Ablee said, jerking her head toward a weathered storage shack on the side of the road. Its frame leaned, waiting for a sharp breeze to pull it into the chasm below. ¡°I¡¯ve got a better way down.¡±


    Zeph followed Ablee¡¯s gesture and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s in there?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I''ve been dreaming of this moment,¡± Ablee replied. She strode toward the shed, boots crunching the dusty ground. The rusted hinges buckled as she kicked open the door, revealing three small rickety carts lined up in the gloom like discarded memories, one black, one yellow, one blue.


    ¡°Soap-box racers,¡± Ablee declared, her grin stretching wider. ¡°My step-brothers built them. They came back from their trip to Cacio obsessed with these things. Course, they wouldn¡¯t let me or Cline anywhere near ''em. They just sat in these things, laughing their heads off while we watched from the sidelines.¡± Her fingers curled into fists.


    Her expression shifted as quickly as it darkened, her grin snapping back into place. ¡°But they¡¯re not here now, are they? So I¡¯m calling the shots. We''re racing to the bottom!¡±


    Rhody¡¯s mouth opened, but no words came out. She gestured at the carts, their wood warped and fixtures rusted under the shed''s leaky roof. ¡°These things are falling apart, there¡¯s no way they still work.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they¡¯ll work,¡± Ablee shot back "I''d bet my life on it."


    Rhody''s jaw dropped further, "You are doing that, literally! Zeph, there''s no way we''re doing this, right?!"


    Zeph crouched by the black cart, giving one of its squeaky wheels a spin. ¡°I''m not racing you in this death trap unless there are proper stakes, Ablee. Winner is Captain of the Liner we steal.¡±


    ¡°Deal!¡± Ablee agreed, her tone brooking no argument, ¡°I''ve already got a name picked out for the ship.¡±


    Rhody stepped back, shaking her head. ¡°No, no way. You¡¯re both mentally ill. Can''t you see how dangerous this is?¡±


    Ablee gave her an exaggerated eye roll. ¡°No, it''s simple; you just need to know when to brake. You''ll be behind me, so just slow down when I do.¡±


    ¡°And if the brakes decide not to work?!"


    Zeph traced the word "STRUT" with her finger across the cart''s dusty side and smirked. ¡°If Ablee''s willing to bet her Captain status on these things, I¡¯ll give her the benefit of the doubt. Besides,¡± she adds with a pointed glance at Ablee, ¡°I can''t turn down the chance to put you in your place.¡±


    Ablee¡¯s grin turned razor-sharp. ¡°Big words," she said. Before Rhody could protest further, Ablee grabbed her by the arm and tugged her into the shed. ¡°Don¡¯t overthink it,¡± she said, her voice teasing. ¡°Just lean into the turns; you¡¯ll do fine.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Rhody whimpered as Ablee corraled her into the nearest racer.


    <hr>


    Seated in her cart, Ablee was beaming, her nose scrunched.


    The warped wooden frames of the vehicles creaked with every shift as leaves of peeling paint fell from their sides. To Rhody, they looked like disasters waiting to happen. To Ablee, they were a reckoning.


    Ablee slapped the side of her cart. ¡°Ready to see what these beauties can do?¡± Her voice rolled down the mountain like a dare.


    Zeph tipped her hat, her gaze narrow as she inspected Ablee''s yellow racer. ¡°You¡¯ll be lucky to make it halfway, those wheels are not secure.¡±


    Rhody hunched in the blue cart, her knuckles pale, clamping the steering rope. The vehicle''s brakes groaned as gravity pulled the weight of her pack into them. Her gaze flicked to Ablee, then Zeph, and finally to the hungrily waiting void flanking the edges of their course. ¡°I¡¯m going to die. This is how I die.¡±


    Ablee drummed her hands along her racer''s lemon-yellow hood. ¡°You two better not make me wait long at the finish line."


    Zeph huffed and raised Applause, ¡°Ready... Set..." BANG!


    Loosing her brakes, Ablee¡¯s racer shot forward, its warped wheels popping against the uneven ground. Zeph followed immediately, her movements smooth and deliberate as her cart leaned into the first turn. Rhody hesitated, watching the two grow smaller down the darkening trail.


    ¡°Come on, Rhody!¡± Zeph called back, her voice laced with encouragement, ¡°Try to keep up!¡±


    Rhody finally mustered the courage. Her foot pulled back from the brake pedal, and her cart jolted into motion, wobbling dangerously as it joined the others accelerating down the incline.


    They barreled down the mountain, each turn sharper than the last. Ablee leaned hard into the curves, her back wheels catching air. She pushed a hand down through her floorboard, turning it to paint, and grabbed the path''s ledge, wrenching her cart''s wheels back onto it. Zeph took advantage; hugging the trail''s inner lip, she pulled ahead, her golden hair whipping like a streamer behind her.


    ¡°Oh, real smooth!¡± Ablee shouted, leaning forward, willing herself to close the distance between them, "Good luck trying to hold that lead!"


    "Ha!" Exclaimed Zeph, not looking back. She veered from side to side along the course''s width, expertly closing any passing gaps, ¡°Talk less, drive better!¡±


    A pile of stacked stone loomed ahead. Drifting around it, Zeph pulled her revolver. BANG! A single shot cracked the air, scattering the smaller stones and sending the larger ones tumbling into Ablee''s path.


    Rhody¡¯s voice rang out from behind. ¡°King of Wands!" She screamed, "Isn''t this dangerous enough?!"


    Zeph holstered her weapon, "Hurry it up, Rhody, you don''t want to come in last!" Her keen eyes were already set on the next stretch of trail.


    Ablee''s cart slipped along Zeph''s impromptu hazard. She threw her wheels, reversing the direction of her wild skid, "Ahaaa!"


    "Ablee!" Rhody hollered as she watched the girl careen over the inner lip of the curve. Ablee sank into the shadows.


    Rhody''s eyes widen, aghast. Zeph killed her.


    Then, Ablee''s cart crested over the opposite ledge, bouncing and sliding, spitting a plume of dust in Zeph''s face. ¡°Shortcut!¡± Ablee shouted, her laughter cutting through the rush of wind.


    The racers hurtled forward, the trail narrowing as the incline grew steeper. Ablee¡¯s laughter echoed down the mountainside, her yellow cart bouncing wildly with each uneven dip in the path. Zeph pulled ahead once more, her black racer gliding with a precision that seemed almost effortless. Rhody lagged far behind, gripping the steering rope so tight her knuckles burned, her cart lurching and groaning under unsteady control.


    ¡°I told you to lean into the turns, Rhody!¡± Ablee shouted over her shoulder, "You''re making us all look bad!"


    ¡°Making us look bad?¡± Rhody¡¯s voice broke as her cart slammed into a rut, the wheels shuddering. ¡°I¡¯m trying not to die!¡±


    Ahead, the jagged path rounded a sheer cliff face, a drop of hundreds of feet yawning to their left. Zeph swerved around the sharp turn, her focus unshaken, but Ablee¡¯s cart wobbled as she took the corner too fast.


    Zeph called out, ¡°No more off-roading; you''re gonna get yourself killed,¡± a smirk audible in her voice.


    Ablee smiled, her teeth flashing in the dim light. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry about me! Worry about what¡¯s up ahead.¡±


    Zeph squinted through the cloud of dust in Ablee''s wake. ¡°What do you mean ''what¡¯s up ahead''?¡±


    Ablee didn''t answer, her gaze fixed on a dark mass looming further down the path. Shadows flickered in the haze, indistinct at first, but then resolved into a hulking, long-snouted form. It moved slowly. Its eyes were set on the approaching carts, reflecting the Ley-Light from Mango Port in the distance.


    The smirk faded from Zeph''s face. ¡°Rhody,¡± she shouted, her voice clipped. ¡°Stop your cart!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Rhody responded, panic rising in her voice. ¡°Wha- What is that?!"


    Ablee¡¯s cart jerked around the next bend, barreling toward the creature. It let out a low, guttural hiss that reverberated through the stone beneath them.

 [ORIGINAL] Chapter 11 - Same Old Song and Dance

    <div>


    The soapbox racer rattled and groaned, every bump of the rocky slope threatening to send Ablee airborne. Her knuckles tightened around the wheel, her grin widening with each near-miss. A boulder loomed ahead, its jagged edge promising disaster. Ablee yanked the steering rope, skidding to the side in a spray of gravel, the cart tilting precariously before slamming back down with a bone-jarring thud.


    ¡°Hold together, baby!¡± she shouted.


    Then it came¡ªthe shadow. The vast silhouette cast by the towering crocodile beast as it reared onto legs bizarrely long for any normal croc. Its upright frame embodied raw power, stretching high, easily the height of three men stacked atop one another. The beast''s physique was like that of a colossal ape, its broad shoulders rippling beneath scales as thick and unyielding as forged iron. It glimmered in the ley-line light, its texture jagged and uneven, a scarred mosaic of brutal combat carved into its hide.


    Its elongated body was built for dominance, not for survival¡ªa monstrous statement against nature itself. Jutting down its spine was a jagged ridge of bone, its sharp points protruding like the peaks of a fortress wall. Its tail was a battering ram of muscle and sinew, sweeping low and sending chunks of earth hurtling through the air. Each of its claws was the length of a sword.


    Ablee didn¡¯t falter. Her eyes locked forward, her racer rattling and screeching. She didn¡¯t dare slow; hesitation would mean death. A low rumble vibrated from the beast''s chest. The air screamed around the snapping motion of its tail as her cart slipped between its legs. Its jaws, lined with rows of yellowed, uneven teeth, snapped down just behind her.


    The jagged shadow of its tail loomed over her. Ablee ducked into her racer as it whooshed overhead, missing her by a hair. The gust of its passage sent her cart wobbling.


    She kept her bent position, her heart pounding as she shot downhill.


    Exhilaration cut through her fear, and she let out a whoop. ¡°Too slow, big guy!¡± she yelled over her shoulder, her grin as sharp as the fangs she¡¯d just dodged. Her racer tore down the slope, leaving the enraged brute clawing at empty space. Ahead, the slope smoothed, promising speed, but a scream snapped her attention back to the ledge above.


    Rhody¡¯s cart wobbled uncontrollably, the girl¡¯s pale face stark against the chaos. The monster¡¯s roar had clearly shaken her, and her cart careened toward a ledge. Ablee shouted something, but the words were lost in the wind as Rhody rushed to the brink.


    The acolyte''s breath hitched, and the world slowed to a crawl, the jagged edge of the cliff drifting lazily closer. A deep hum filled her ears as her Ace of Wands ability, just recently discovered, surged. Her senses sharpened, her body moving with unnerving precision. She shoved herself out of the cart as it toppled over, her heavy pack trailing behind her. Her arms crested the ridge and fumbled to grab hold of the ground. The weight of her pack pulled against her, her arms straining to hold on. ¡°Don¡¯t look down, don¡¯t look down,¡± She muttered through gritted teeth, her fingers slipping. Stone crumbled beneath her boots as she kicked at the rock wall, desperate for a foothold.


    Zeph watched over her shoulder, her sharp eyes narrow. Without hesitation, she yanked the rope of her racer, aiming it directly at the beast¡¯s leg. The impact was deafening, the cart crumpling like paper against the scaled limb. Zeph lept free mid-crash, landing in a roll before drawing Applause.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± she shouted, unloading a volley of shots into the monstrosity behind her as she sprinted toward Rhody. Sparks flew where bullets glanced off its hide, the creature barely flinching. It raged after her, Zeph didn¡¯t stop, her focus on Rhody¡¯s dangling form.


    Ablee¡¯s racer screeched to a halt, its wooden wheels sliding against the dirt. Her body passed through the rippling wooden form of the vehicle. Feet catching the ground, she propelled herself into a sprint, her eyes fixed uphill where the chaos unfolded. Her shout rang out over the clamor. ¡°Hey! Over here, you oversized pair of boots!¡± She waved her arms, her voice full of mockery.


    The monster¡¯s head jerked toward her. It roared, the sound echoing through the canyons, and turned to lumber in her direction.


    Ablee¡¯s legs kicked into second gear, and she darted toward a jagged boulder, sliding through it with a surge of her Ambrosia. Her body emerged from the other side coated in a fresh layer of stone paint. The wet earthen armor gleamed in the ley-light, and her pounding foot drops set a tempo for her ascent.


    Zeph grabbed Rhody¡¯s arm. With a grunt of effort, she hauled the girl upward, both of them collapsing onto solid ground. Rhody panted, her eyes wide with lingering terror.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she gasped, clutching her chest.


    ¡°You may have been better off falling...¡± Zeph replied, digging for ammunition in Rhody''s pack. Behind them, the beast roared again, rushing to meet Ablee, "What do you think, Rhody? She''s got this one, right?"


    Rhody sucked in cold air. They could run and hide, let Ablee face it alone. The beast and Ablee. Both were problems, one of which would likely be handled in the ensuing clash... But...


    Rhody''s thumb tugged at the button of her deck''s pouch; she shook her head, "She could have just continued downhill. We have to..."


    "Damnit, you''re right." Zeph frowned, then jumped to her feet and took off, bounding, each step catching air, carrying her faster and faster downhill.


    Ablee growled, charging at the creature¡¯s legs. Her first punch connected with a resounding crack, sending tremors through her arm. Stumbling slightly, the beast recovered with alarming speed. It swung a clawed hand, narrowly missing Ablee as she ducked and drove another stone-clad fist into its knee.


    Zeph rushed toward the fray, Applause blazing. Each shot found its mark, peppering the beast¡¯s joints and softer scales.


    ¡°Rhody, ammo!¡± Zeph barked over her shoulder, tossing Applause back without a glance to see if the girl was in position. The weapon spun through the air, and Rhody, racing to keep up, caught it with fumbling hands, her expression frantic.


    ¡°I¡¯m on it!¡± The sizzling hot revolver in Rhody''s hands brought her another round of Clarity. The revolver reloaded; she snapped the chamber shut and hurled it back, shouting, "Catch!"


    Zeph, rolling backward to avoid a snap of the beast''s brutal teeth, caught it and fired a round that buried into its lengthy jaw.


    Ablee pressed her advantage, whirling her rocky fists into a salvo of blows that shook the beast¡¯s legs. ¡°I''ve met punching bags that were more graceful!¡± she taunted, her voice full of reckless confidence.


    The monster growled, its eyes flashing. Without warning, its massive tail swung around, catching Ablee off guard. The impact sent her flying, her rocky carapace, and gravity colluding to drag her downhill. She crashed through debris, her hardened form rolling uncontrollably and disappearing into the distance.


    Zeph gritted her teeth, her focus unwavering despite the setback. She darted around the creature, firing strategically while avoiding its crushing blows. The revolver clicked empty again, and she tossed it back to Rhody with a backward flick of her wrist.


    Rhody yanked it from the air, her voice rising in a frantic cheer. ¡°You¡¯ve got this, Zeph!¡±


    Zeph didn¡¯t respond, focused solely on weaving around the crocodile-ape''s blows, each swipe of its claws or snap of its snout a potentially life-ending event.


    <hr>


    The faint hum of a ley-line vibrating tickled their ears, it was an almost imperceptible thrumming that carried a note of urgency. The combatants didn¡¯t notice at first, their attention fixed on the roaring monster before them. But as the sound grew louder, Rhody¡¯s gaze snapped upward.


    Overhead, a sleek yacht-like Liner descended along a minor ley-line. Its hull was beautifully crafted, narrow, and elegant, like a blade slicing the sky. Polished oak panels exuded pride, bordered by bands of reinforced steel. The mast was a towering spire of dark metal, its tip anchored to the ley line by a glowing hook. The hook, forged from dark iron, shimmered like hot metal¡ªbut instead of fiery orange, its glow was an ethereal, pulsing blue, as if it drank the very energy of the line it rode upon.


    Its sail, a pristine fabric of pure white, fluttered dramatically in the breeze. Though designed for the air, the Liner had wheels tucked discreetly under its hull, each bolstered by thick-springed shocks and reinforced axles meant to withstand rough landings. The bottom of the ship promised resilience; its steel-plated frame was lined with scuffs and scratches¡ªthe battle scars of a well-traveled vessel.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Perched on the deck was its captain, a man whose presence was as striking as his ship. His coat, as white as the sail, was trimmed in gold. It fluttered as he leaned casually against the mast. His tousled chestnut hair shone in the fading remains of daylight, and a roguish grin played across his face.


    His eyes, an intense stormy gray, surveyed the scene below with veteran confidence. At his side, a stately cutlass hung from a leather belt, its hilt engraved with a constellation of crossing lines.


    ¡°Hold steady, friends!¡± he called out, his voice smooth and commanding, carrying over the chaos like the leader of a storm-tossed fleet. Eyeing his approach, a grimace pulled across the beast''s face. With a deft pull on the ship¡¯s rigging, he slowed its descent, the sail billowing with the cross-wind. The yacht screeched along the dirt path, its stalwart hull bouncing as its course slowed.


    He wasted no time, clambering up the mast with the dexterity of a monkey. With a dramatic flourish, he detached the glowing hook from the mast and leaped upward. His hook caught the ley-line, and blue energy pulsed through its iron, lighting it up like molten glass. He pulled back his legs and kicked them forward, shooting through the air as if on a zipline, hurtling toward Zeph and Rhody.


    The wind caught his coat as he glided effortlessly along the line. His movements were theatrical, each grandiose motion executed with a practiced ease that bespoke years of experience. The blue light of the line dipped with his weight like a pulled lute string. Nearing the ground, he let go of the hook with a flourish. The line yanked it up, and the twirling hook slid off the rebounding thread of lightning. A spray of loose gravel and dirt shot out ahead of his pristinely polished boots as he skidded to a stop on his heels. He extended his arm, and the grip of his hook landed in his open palm.


    The sight was enough to make Rhody¡¯s knees buckle. ¡°That was... incredible...¡± she whispered, awe breaking over her.


    The man straightened, brushing the dust from his coat. ¡°Good evening,¡± he said, his lopsided grin widening as he drew his cutlass left-handed. The blade shone like quicksilver. ¡°Hope you don''t mind the intrusion¡ª¡±


    ¡°Took you long enough!¡± Zeph shouted, leaping over a bone-shatterer of a tail-swipe.


    ¡°Apologies,¡± he replied, spinning his cutlass and sauntering forward to join Zeph in the forge flames of the maddened beast''s assault.


    The crocodilian monster roared, its razor-sharp claws slashing through the air. The man lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air with a hiss. Each motion was fluid and wickedly aggressive, aimed at the deep scars along its hide. Zeph followed suit; her shots timed perfectly with his movements. Together, they revolved with clockwork choreography, her precision complementing his flair.


    Zeph retreated for a moment, catching her breath and handing Applause to Rhody. The girl, still half-dazed by the display, fumbled to reload it. Her voice was a mixture of panic and admiration. ¡°Who is this guy?¡±


    The assassin''s eyes didn¡¯t leave the battle. ¡°No idea,¡± she replied flatly, ¡°But he¡¯s useful.¡±


    The man laughed, his blade deflecting a strike from the creature¡¯s claws. Zeph cocked her white-hot wheel gun and lunged back into combat.


    The tide of the battle began to shift, the duo''s combined efforts driving the scaled ape-fiend back step by step. As they rallied, it bellowed, no longer looming with the same invincibility. The fight was far from over, but for the first time, victory felt within reach.


    The pair flowed around one another. Zeph moved like the wind, Applause snapping in perfect time. The hook and blade-wielding dervish danced beside her, his cutlass flashing in devastating arcs. Their strikes wove together, a cadence of blade and bullet, offense and evasion. The beast roared, its claws carving deep furrows in the stone, and the rhythm built ¡ª faster, tighter.


    The sharp crack of Zeph¡¯s shots punctuated a tempo.


    BANG!


    BANG!


    A beat, a hum, began to rise in Zeph¡¯s throat. A sound long buried. The music of memory stirred in her like the forgotten voice of a friend.


    <hr>


    Dust swirled through a sleepy western town.


    Rows of clapboard houses and sun-starched ground.


    Not one bar brawl, shoot-out, or skull,


    So damn monotonous and dull.


    From within a squat white-walled home, a door banged open.


    Out stomped Zeph¡ªa girl of thirteen years and three days¡ªblack hat askew, a wooden BB pistol gripped in her hand. Her golden hair curled out wild and untamed as she glared down the empty street.


    A wagon wheel creaked. A dog barked in the distance.


    She sang, her voice bright but clipped; she was like a fire locked in a cage. Her words hit like sparks, popping in the stale air.


    ¡°Another day¡ª,


    Another yawn,


    and here''s this tiresome town at dawn.


    The blacksmith bangs,


    The cowboys hum,


    I wish that I was blue and numb.¡±


    Zeph marched forward, her pistol swinging in rhythm with her steps, stomping purposefully on every beat. A tumbleweed rolled lazily into her path, and she sent it flying with a sharp kick.


    The street bustled to life. Men tipped their hats. Mothers swept porches. Children chased each other through clouds of dust, singing out snatches of melody that harmonized with Zeph¡¯s. A rancher strummed a banjo lazily on the steps of the saloon, adding twang to the town¡¯s sluggish tune.


    As Zeph strode into the street¡¯s rhythm, everyone began to sway and move to the plodding harmony. Voices blended like a creaking wagon train across a rutted trail.


    ¡°Mornin¡¯, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Howdy, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Don''t your swine need to be fed?¡±


    ¡°Ey there, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Look ''ere, Zeph.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let those dreams get to your head.¡±


    Zeph spun dramatically, her arms thrown wide, and her frustration bled into a sardonic grin. The children nearby mimicked her, twirling clumsily, their laughter cutting through the dusty melody.


    ¡°Well isn''t this swell?


    It¡¯s still the same!


    The world goes on¡ªwhy have a name?


    A butcher cuts,


    A cobbler kneels,


    Like dirt stamped under wagon wheels.¡±


    She raised her pistol and twirled it, striking an exaggerated gunslinger¡¯s pose before firing into the air.


    ¡°Bandits wait beyond that ridge,¡±


    POP! The BB pistol fired.


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet them all atop the bridge!


    A bounty high,


    A legend made,


    To claim a mark''s¡ªthe grandest trade!¡±


    The banjo plucked a cheeky tune as shopkeepers muttered and shook their heads, wiping their brows or folding their arms in choreographed exasperation. A baker, hands streaked with flour, clapped a rhythm as he wiped his apron in time with the beat.


    ¡°She¡¯s mad,


    A loon,


    A girl with no sense.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯d shoot out,


    her eye,


    If given the chance.¡±


    The town choir swelled, swaying and rolling their eyes in perfect unison. Children mimed exaggerated gun battles, throwing themselves to the ground, felled by imaginary bullets. Zeph strutted past the general store, her eyes glued to the silver-plated revolver in the window. Its tag gleamed like a beacon: fifteen dollars.


    ¡°Guns and assassins,


    What nonsense she¡¯ll spew!


    But chores will remind her¡ª


    Life¡¯s work is the glue.¡±


    Zeph spun on her heels, brandishing her pistol as she marched up to a trio of gossiping women with wicker baskets. The women shifted their stances like a practiced waltz; their noses tilted skyward. Her voice rose to confront them.


    ¡°The trick-shooter! She told me how¡ª


    Assassin''s work! I want it now!


    With perfect aim,


    With iron will,


    I¡¯ll climb my way atop that hill!¡±


    As Zeph belted the line, she leaped atop a barrel. The banjoist struck a dramatic chord as she sang of her imagined future. Her shadow stretched long in the golden light, and she gestured toward the horizon as if drawing out her dreams.


    ¡°I see it there¡ª


    The world¡¯s dark edge.


    Beyond that fence.


    Beyond that hedge.


    Where shadows pool and steel burns hot,


    You''ll find me there¡ªtaking my SHOT¡ª.¡±


    A crumpled, hand-drawn wanted poster fluttered from her coat, and she waved it high like a battle flag. The children danced around her barrel in a mocking circle, laughing and pointing, but she continued.


    ¡°Trick-Shot Legend, Assassin Queen!


    Her pistol bright with silver sheen.


    The page will turn; their jaws will drop.


    And Zeph¡¯ll climb¡ª


    And Zeph¡¯ll top¡ª.¡±


    She struck a triumphant pose, her hat tipped low as the last note rang out.


    The laughter faded, and the townsfolk scattered back to their daily routines, their movements a dull echo of the earlier harmony.


    "Girl needs to pull her weight. Have ya seen the state of her ma''s ranch?" someone muttered, tipping their hat in time with the lingering music.


    ¡°Yer right, she¡¯s dodgin'' more than a prairie dog in a barn dance.¡±


    Zeph sighed, hopping down from the barrel. Her pistol hung limp in her hand, and her voice softened into a wistful melody.


    ¡°They laugh and scoff,


    They don''t believe¡ª


    But I¡¯ve got dreams they can''t conceive.


    What¡¯s life to me, if life¡¯s this small?


    If nothing changes, nothing calls?¡±


    The banjoist shifted into a minor key as boots clattered against wooden planks, drawing all eyes toward the rider storming into town. His horse¡¯s mouth foamed, and his voice broke through the fading tune like a cracked whip.


    ¡°It¡¯s come agaaaaain!


    All teeth and claw!


    It killed the Whitmans¡ªate ''em raw!¡±


    A gasp rippled through the town choir, their staggered voices rising in alarm.


    Zeph¡¯s head snapped up, and she stepped forward, her gaze sharp.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± she demanded.


    The rider wheezed, slumping forward in his saddle. ¡°A terrible beast! Part armadillo, part mountain lion! Down near the gorge!¡±


    The music trembled with tension as the mayor waddled out of his office, pale-faced and shaking. ¡°I''m puttin'' a bounty on its head! Fifteen dollars¡ª¡±


    Zeph didn¡¯t hear the rest. Her eyes locked on the general store window, where the revolver gleamed. The music surged with pounding purpose.


    Her BB pistol raised, and her voice rang out, clear and defiant.


    ¡°A beast¡¯s rough hide¡ª


    A silver prize.


    It¡¯s finally time, no compromise!


    I¡¯ll take my aim,


    I¡¯ll take my shot.


    I''ll slay this beast, and earn my spot!"


    The town choir erupted into chaotic protest, their movements clashing as voices overlapped in frantic disarray.


    ¡°She¡¯s lost her mind!¡±


    ¡°Someone stop her!¡±


    ¡°Please Mayor, rescind yer'' offer!¡±


    But Zeph, undeterred, pushed through the crowd, her grin wide and wild. The banjo picked up a furious tempo as the music swelled into a final triumphant refrain.


    ¡°Let them sneer!


    Let them doubt!


    I¡¯ll earn myself some gosh darn clout.


    This town can scoff,


    But I will soar!


    It¡¯s time to reach¡ªfor something¡ªMORE¡ª¡±


    The last note soared into the dusty sky as Zeph burst from the throng, her black hat tilted rakishly, her pistol raised in challenge. The townsfolk stilled, and the music faded into the whisper of the wind.


    BANG!


    <hr>


    Zeph''s attention snapped back to the present as Applause cracked again, her gun barrel glowing faintly from the heat. Ruby channels poured down the crocodile''s limbs. Lightning struck in the distance, outlining its wet form brilliantly. Its fury pooled along the ground, replaced with the primal call to endure. It routed, rumbling down the trail on all fours, battering the path with its knuckles.


    Zeph made to pursue, but their enigmatic rescuer held out his arm, "Let it go; my circle knows where it lairs." He turned to his vessel, parked with its mast pointed at an off-angle. "We''ll want to beat that storm back to Mango Port."

 Chapter 5 - Seven of Tricks

    RHODY


    Rooting through the pack, my fingers brushed against the rough leather of Zeph¡¯s logbook. I yanked it free, its black cover peeling away like an old scab. Inside, the first page carried a grim tally: rows of names, each struck through with a sharp, deliberate line.


    King of Wands, she¡¯d killed this many... Every time I opened that book, the list pressed upon me. Tonight¡¯s confrontation added a new layer to that disbelief. If each crossed name had security like Karich''s the grand total of her victories in combat could fill this book twice over. Flipping through page after page, I reached the end of her list: six unmarked names, starting with the warlord Karich and ending with Ablee Urough.


    I swallowed hard; despite my better sense, I''d developed a picture of the girl in my mind, the daughter of a tyrannical warlord, young and impressionable; could I really blame her for consuming Ambrosia? The information we''d been given had her only two years older than me. She''d not been seen outside the keep in years. What if she was a victim in all of this? Regardless, we had to see it through. Zeph was going to kill her, and I was going to help. That was the will of the gods.


    I turned to the next blank page and readied my pencil, returning my attention to the patrolwoman. I''d been trying this whole time to push away the weight of my earlier mistakes and the realization of the nature of my cards, ¡°The Keep. I need the layout¡ªdefenses, guards, everything. What can you tell me?¡±


    She glared, blood streaking her chin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me get her involved. She didn''t kill any of you... but that doesn''t mean she won''t...¡± I said and nodded in Zeph''s direction. The blonde bombshell''s eyebrows twisted as if to say, "Really?" I didn''t feel confident when I said it, and felt less confident now.


    The woman''s defiance cracked under the assassin¡¯s presence. Lip trembling, she relented. Each word pained her¡ªZeph¡¯s handiwork had left her speaking with a lisp. Still, I pried enough detail from her to sketch a useful picture of the Keep¡¯s defenses.


    I turned to Zeph. Her precision had gutted the village¡¯s defenses without taking a single life. Brutal yet restrained. It didn¡¯t add up. She was an assassin with an incredibly deadly weapon, yet she''d spared these people. Why?


    Curiosity was plastered across my face, but I couldn''t ask her that.


    Zeph smirked, ¡°How many stories can a dead man tell? I want them alive to spread word of what they saw.¡± it was as if she''d read my mind, but her answer was nonsense.


    Father Herus had to be out of his mind pairing me with her. When I''d agreed to join her, I imagined she''d have me covertly using my cards to identify threats and keep me away from the messy parts¡ªshe¡¯d sneak in, kill Karich and the others quietly, then vanish.


    Instead, we''d brawled through the village like a storm. I didn¡¯t even have a weapon.


    She proceeded through the crowd of broken watchmen, binding their limbs with rope she''d stolen from a covered wagon, beaming with confidence. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The Ace of Swords, I''d performed a reading when I first met her. It was one of the minor arcana, the first time I''d drawn one outside of a temple event meant to fill out my roster of cards. Minor arcana were past the pinnacle of mortal ability; they were an imbuement of divine capability. Most people had a few mundane suits they ranked in. I myself was a Five of Tumbles, Eight of Scrolls, Page of Hands, and, to my chagrin, a Seven of Tricks.


    Zeph''s highest-ranking mundane suit was Fire-Arms, a rather new addition to the Tarot. She had Kinged it, the absolute peak of mortal ability, and the gods'' requirement to even be considered for a True Fate from the minor arcana. Her ranking in Swords was a step beyond that; through pure merit, she''d earned unnatural precision.


    ¡°Why..." I asked, dreading an oncoming reprimand, ¡°Why are we fighting everyone here? Aren¡¯t assassins supposed to sneak?¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± She tossed her golden hair, the brim of her hat, atop a wicked grin. ¡°Who told you that? An assassin should be notorious. How else would we find work?¡±


    That stopped me cold. Was she right? Everything I¡¯d read about assassins¡ªmostly penny dreadfuls and comics¡ªportrayed them as shadowy figures avoiding direct confrontation. Zeph shattered that image. Shooting our way through this village, just steps from our mark¡¯s home, disobeying the quiet of night? That was her way?


    ¡°Alright,¡± she said, ¡°what''s our next step?¡±


    I scanned my notes. ¡°The roof¡¯s our best bet. We can climb the Keep¡¯s side¡ªit¡¯s barely defended.¡±


    ¡°Good. Grab the hook.¡±


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t you want to hear the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Of course not!¡± She waved me off. ¡°I''ve got my next step. Don¡¯t cloud my focus with anything else.¡±


    I nodded, unable to offer any more resistance, and followed her through the town. Children peeked out from grimy windows. The winding road climbed on toward the Keep, the shadow of its walls growing closer with every step.


    At its base, she took the grappling hook from my hands, swung it three times, and sent it soaring. It caught with a faint clink, its hemp rope pulling taut as she yanked it into place.


    Zeph started climbing, her movements sure and quick. ¡°Want me to leave the pack?¡± I called up.


    ¡°What? No. We¡¯ll need it.¡±


    ¡°You expect me to carry it?" My eyes widened with dread.


    ¡°Obviously. Herus said you were resourceful; figure it out. When you reach the top come find me, just follow the noise.¡±


    She ascended with ease, almost walking up the wall. Her toned arms moved her weight effortlessly. I stared at the pack, then sighed. No way could I climb with that. Instead, I secured the rope to it. I''d have to climb and then hoise it up once I''d reached the top.


    The ascent came naturally to me; years of acrobatic training made it manageable. But graceful? No. I wasn''t Zeph.


    Halfway up, my thoughts couldn''t help but drift back to the deck. Had I really bought it? I¡¯d promised Herus his money back regardless of the outcome of our wager, and when I won, I returned the money and claimed the cards. That felt damning enough. It was a transaction.


    Fuck... How could I not have seen that back then? After all that time cursing the cards from the second-hand store, I''d made the same mistake twice. Maybe it was the curse''s fault; maybe it''d clouded my vision.


    When I''d replaced that first deck with the one Brenna¡¯d gifted me, things had become simple, almost too easy. I''d put together a plan to get what I wanted and enacted it flawlessly. Well, with one flaw. I could have kept Herus''s money, and he''d probably still have agreed to the wager, but I''d been greedy; I couldn''t let myself risk losing.


    Quit lying to yourself, I thought; you didn''t promise the payment because you wanted to win. You did it because you felt guilty.


    Sleeved aces, I winced. It was a common trick in those back alley games. I''d reserved its use for hands I couldn''t afford to lose, and that last hand with Herus was not one I wanted to leave to chance.