《Legend of the Nine Swords: The Ballad of the Greypelts》


 Chapter I

    Tonje stared into the mysts ahead, unable to gaze more than a single barge length into the gloomy mysts. She stroked at her beard in dissociative contemplation, carefully knotted after the tradition of her mother''s kin the Honningvhis, a line of the Cloudfolk only recently transplanted two generations past. The Arkhosian sun was high in the sky, adding summer warmth to the chill of the enveloping mysts. Her thoughts drifted lazily with the swirls of myst as her mind embraced the emptiness of quiet water sloshing against her barge and the sides of the canal.


    The Guild of Trade had provided a new crew as the barge departed from the Caldera, a center of commerce on Arkhos. It had been a long voyage, her crew was green as any could be and needed much instruction in the canal life, but that was the place of a skipper, at the helm for as long as it took. While her vessel had no official title (she was no galleon of the great seas) Tonje enjoyed thinking of the collection of fibrula planks as The Whale. She had of course never seen such a creature, but the sailors of the great shipping vessels loved to regale her with tales of the magnificent creatures. A smile manifested under her beard, invisible to all as The Whale drifted down the way. The Whale was but one of many such barges owned by the Guild of Trade and, more often than not, played host to the cargo of the Consignatory Guild. Much of their current cargo was packages bearing the stamp of the Consignatory Guild; Tonje expected them to be full of correspondence for the urban folk.


    The barge was now less than a day away from the Imperial capital of Arx Boreas, situated in the grassy foothills to the northeast. The canal she now traveled had been carved by powers long since gone and flowed with speed unseen by many a river. The sides of the canal gave the appearance of being cut from hexagonal stones into a triangular V while surrounded by soil and long grasses. Tonje had heard the canals were build by the Immortal First Childrens in the first age of the Empire, though she had also heard that it was a miracle of the Numen. She was certain the truth lay somewhere in between. She looked forward to a few days rest in the Arx before her next job, the inns of the capital were unmatched across the rest of the realm.


    The quiet voice of their guide flitted over to Tonje.


    "Skipper, there is something ahead, I see water pooling on the shore."


    Tonje rushed to the prow of the barge to join Humility giving the helm to her second. The Myst Hunter was covered in the brown and greens of his Guild, but Tonje knew a Lucidfolk when she saw one, their ambling gait lacked the structure and solidity of those with bones. He clutched the hilt of a sheathed blade on his side with the familiarity of years of anxious practice.


    "Should we slow?"


    The Myst Hunter narrowed his grey eyes, his beaded pupils growing in response.


    "Something obstructs the canal. And I feel a chill in the air. I would choose not to hit it."


    Tonje trusted the instincts of the guide, after all, the Myst Hunters were guides contracted for their ability to see through the mysts. She shuddered to think of the cost of such a ritual, but appreciated his presence all the same. Centering herself on the barge, she made sure all could hear her.


    "ALRIGHT LADS, PREPARE TO SLOW US UP!"


    The barge sprung to life at her command, the crew was finally learning. Long poles were uncovered and distributed across the crew as they awaited their next command while a smaller group still uncovered a pair of anchors with numerous spikes. Tonje waited for the crew to position before shouting.


    "SCRAPE!"


    The crew swiftly plunged the poles into the canal until they reached the angled bottom and held in place, slowing the barge gradually with each heartbeat as the crew fought to hold in place. Humility quietly whispered to the skipper with urgency.


    "Quicker."


    "BRACE AND THROW! BRACE AND THROW LADS!"


    The crew grabbed on to the nearest object as anchors were tossed to each side, latching onto the earth alongside the canal. Tonje grabbed onto the railing and ducked, pulling Humility down with her as the rattling chains became taught and the entirety of the barge jolted into a sudden stop. She watched as one of her crew was catapulted forward and landed in the canal but, to her surprise, slid instead of sinking with a shriek of pain and crack of bone. A chorus of moans followed as the barge crew slowly rose to survey the damage.


    One of the younger lads, Tonje thought his name was Martin or some such (Sternfolk names all sound so bland), limped over and helped her up.


    "Skip, what do you..."


    His question lingered as Tonje glanced up and was met with a spray of life blood. Martin''s head was now gone with the gentlest of pops as a beam of color left an afterimage in her eyes. Tonje froze and recoiled, her hand finding bits of Martin now coated her beard. Another light pop echoed in the cacophony of silence, followed by a meaty thump as another member of the crew fell to another beam. Tonje yelled as the crew froze.


    "AMBUSH! Get out of sight!"


    Tonje knelt and quickly took stock, searching for the assailants, they had to be close in mysts such as this. All that greeted her gaze was tall grasses embraced by myst. At the edge of her vision, she saw Humility head overboard and into the grasses, blade now drawn as he vanished from her senses.


    Her hand brushed over the edge of The Whale and felt a solid cold mass of ice just ahead. She knew little of magic, but freezing a canal solid seemed advanced. Or perhaps some artistry enabled this affront to summer. The crewman who had been thrust upon the ice slowly made their way to their knees and gave their skipper a toothy smile. That smile would stay with Tonje until her last as the poor boy''s head vanished into a mist of pink and teeth. Tonje froze as a single tooth clattered along the ice and slid, ending its path against her hand. In horrid fascination she picked it up, her hand shaking with no control as her mind barely registered her predicament.


    Some instinct in Tonje screamed at her to dive, she was never one to discard the wisdom of the ancestors, and she dove hard and fast. Splinters of wood silently coated her as a pallet was obliterated and crates tumbled onto her, their securing netting now disintegrated. Tonje kept her face in the floor, her heart pounding in her ears as she worked to compose herself.


    "Skipper, you alive?"


    Taking quick breathes, she grounded herself in the friendly voice and calmed her mind to the immediate threat of survival. Tonje struggled against the weight of the crates, they must have been packed full with papers of the Consignatory Guild.


    "Aye, give us a hand lad."


    A hole widened as the pair struggled against the weight until it was just wide enough for Tonje to unceremoniously scuttle her way out.


    She looked to her savoir in thanks, a Sternfolk boy named Neville. He was young, for a Sternfolk, and pale by anyone''s standards. Stupid, but brave.


    "Thank ya, I woulda struggled withouchya."


    "Aye Skip, here."


    He handed Tonje a crossbow and bundle. She opened it, finding a handful of bolts and cocking lever within. Her hands shaking, she went through the unpracticed motions of mounting the lever, pulling the cross-string back into position, carefully removing the lever, and fitting a bolt. She took a deep breath and brought the weapon up into her armpit, finding some security in the new capability.


    The air began to quickly chill as Tonje''s breath appeared before her despite the summer sun. She saw similar exhalations of her crew were now visible as the mysts began to recede to the ground. From beneath The Whale a gentle tinkling echoed like glass shards bouncing in the wind and the canal suddenly turned to ice. The Whale jolted and rocked in the violent transformation, ice creaking and moaning in an obstinate complaint. Again, Tonje was thrown and her crossbow hit the ground with a loud twang. As she recovered, she heard Neville gasping for life and saw the lad against a stack of crates. He was slumped forward, a crossbow bolt pinned through his neck to the stiff boards behind him. Panic was in his eyes as he fought to breathe, his arms and legs unmoving as his lifeblood oozed down his pale neck.


    Tonje tried to stand and felt her leg give way. A huge splinter of fibrula board cut through her calf, the mocking mark of the Guild of Trade now buried into her flesh. She dragged herself over to Neville, whispering forcefully as her eyes scanned for a medica kit.


    "it''s okay, it''s gonna be okay. we are gonna fix you up and get home."


    She spotted a kit with the mark of the Praetor, a hammer with a thorned handle, with the text FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY. It lay on its side, boards lightly cracked. It had clearly been thrown and tossed in the chaos. Despite the pain in her leg she pulled herself over and unlatched the crate. Inside a medica kit was alchemy for healing contained in individual glass vials. As Tonje opened the kit, her face fell, each and every vial was smashed, its potent healing now pooled in the hay which was supposed to prevent such damage. She looked at Neville, who yet drew breath and refused to give in to despair.


    Grabbing a nearby burlap sack, she emptied its contents and filled it with the remnants of the medica crate, hay, liquid, and glass all. She desperately crawled back to Neville who had begun to lose the life in his eyes as she hoarsely whispered.


    "this will hurt, but today is not your last."


    She ripped out the bolt free from Neville''s neck and tossed the boy to the deck. She quickly raised the sack above his gushing neck and, with a grimace, squeezed with all the force she possessed. Tonje nearly passed out as glass cut into her hands and the alchemy healed around it, but the precious liquid streamed out and onto Neville, blessedly falling into the gaping wound. The alchemy worked quickly as flesh began to knit and pale skin rapidly reformed. His neck now repaired in full, Neville fell unconscious, but yet somehow still drew breath, paler somehow than he was previously


    Tonje released the bag from her hands and still felt as though she grasped hot coals. As she turned her hands, she flinched at the glass embedded in her olive skin, now healed into her flesh thanks to the healing alchemy. She shivered with pain and chill as she started at the ruin of her hands and collapsed to the deck. The air had become so cold it hurt to breath and she fought to persist, each breath in defiance of this Fate which threatened to swallow her. As frost took her beard and eyelashes, she saw that little remained of her crew, many had either been ravaged by hostile magics or given into the cold.


    A covered and concealed figure emerged from the tall grass and stepped aboard The Whale. The figure looked to have the build of one of the Kindred; tall with limbs far too long to be comfortable and red feathers emerging from the dark flesh of a hand extended before them. A dark cloak obscured much of their identity but Tonje saw clutched in their other hand at their side was a rod of pure black metal save a center cylinder of silver with length of several feet.


    A euphoric warmth had begun to spread as Tonje lost herself and her body enjoyed its last moments. The figure first went to another of her crew struggling against the cold, placed a hand against their head, and the forceful breathing ceased with a loud pop and flash of light. The figure saw Tonje''s breath and slowly stalked toward her. As her eyes fluttered, another figure emerged from the tall grass, jumping with a silent prowl.


    Humility flew through the air, a wicked blade drawn and aimed at the hostile entity. As the Hunter cleared the ice, a sudden thud of magic pulsed in the air and suspended the Lucidfolk, frozen as if by ice. The figure turned and leveled the rod at them, Tonje could feel the magical potential gathering.


    A hand of pure myst the size of Tonje suddenly ushered forth from the ground as grasped Humility. The hostile figure on the deck recoiled and Humility was freed of her magical bonds. In the ensuing moment, the Hunter began to turn to myst as the hand drew them to the ground. Humility shouted.


    "NO, NOT NOW!"


    Humility fully became myst and vanished into the ground, the hand disappearing as well. Tonje swore she could hear an uncanny voice on the wind.


    "Not today child."


    The figure loosed their hood, confirming their identity as a Kindred, hawkish features meeting dark skin and red feathers. In the middle of their forehead was a tattoo of golden circles, one contained entirely within the other. The kindred searched across the field, poised for continued conflict. In this final moment, Tonje felt a flooding of strength as her ancestors demanded she rise to meet her end.


    The bolt, still coated in Neville''s blood and tossed in the chaos, found its way into Tonje''s hand as if she called it, materializing in a flash of gyroscopic circles. With her last breath Tonje took all the strength of the proud Honningvhis line and threw herself at the interloper, a roar of fury tearing through her lungs. The figure did not turn and Tonje felt some force restrain her movement, but neither she nor her ancestors gave in as she herself vanished and reappeared, now just in front of the figure. Her hand plunged downward and as the tip of the bolt met perfect alignment with the figure''s neck, the bolt shattered against icy armor which sprung into existence at the last possible moment.


    Tonje started and fell, slumping as the fire of her ancestors left, and she was alone with her fate as she hit the deck once again. She felt herself become aloft as though a force lifted her from her ribs and locked eyes with her tormentor. His grey eyes showed no remorse nor pity and she despaired. Their wicked mouth opened.


    "Fear not, today is not your end."


    Tonje finally succumbed to pain and terror and cold and despair, entering into the uncaring embrace of the void.

 Chapter II

    19 Huntmaster, Year 23 of Peace


    <hr>


    Silver tensed every muscle in his body as he braced his shield. Already the fibrula had begun to splinter and burst, what he wouldn''t give for some true solid hardwood. His dominant hand clutched a pendant of the enneagram. His faith would protect him, as it always had.


    Sledge, a true hulk of a Pridefolk stood opposite to him, slightly hunched and waiting to pounce. He held a mighty club in his right hand, tracing a line in the sand as he circled. Sledge''s fur was a mix of greys and blacks and browns, creating a striped palette accentuated by patches of scar and interrupted by a pair of trousers rolled up just above his knees.


    Silver breathed in and readied himself, this time would be different. With no hint betraying intent on his feline face, Sledge whipped the club at him in an effortless motion and it flew between the pair, spinning across the divide as it left Sledge''s hand. Silver barked in surprise before issuing an invocation of protection, but too late, the club hit him hard before he could begin channeling. The shield burst at the impact and shattered as so too did Silver''s arm. Silver blinked and stared at his arm, it wasn''t supposed to bend that way.


    Sledge rushed over, a grimace overtaking his face as he behold Silver''s arm.


    "Dat was ''arder... um... wut ya need? INKY GIT O''ER ''ERE!"


    Silver blinked away the pain that suddenly issued forth, gritting his toothy maw as his arm blazed in agony.


    "Just set it, I will do the rest."


    Without hesitation, Sledge''s clawed hands grabbed Silver''s arm and reoriented it in a jerking twisting motion. Silver nearly passed out from the pain, but he focused entirely on his pendant and his faith and began channeling the light of the Ennead into his arm. Moments later, with a soft warm glow, his bones re-knit and the muscle beneath was restored. His scales, however, remained shattered, there was little he could do but wait to shed.


    Ink''s voice softly carried from behind Silver.


    "It seems all is in order here. Correct me if I am wrong, but I do not believe you were supposed to throw anything Sledge."


    Still grimacing, but with a twinkle in his eye, Sledge responded.


    "Well I were t''inkin'' dat if we keep doin'' da same t''ing, kinda defeats da point ya? We wuz tryin'' to see if Silva ''ere could do a magic before I bonked ''im. N'' well, I keep bonkin''im so I t''ink, wut if I t''row it dis time, keep ''im on ''is feets?"


    Ink cocked their head slightly and responded without emotion.


    "I see. An excellent idea, but perhaps keep training and sparring to what is agreed upon beforehand yes?"


    Silver coughed and exhaled.


    "No it''s alright, Sledge is right. I was anticipating more time, but this was an excellent demonstration of how fast my reflexes need to be in the face of the unknown."


    Ink''s face gently moved in color from a gentle blue to shades of violet, their eyes giving no hint of their inner thoughts as their nose slits widened slightly.


    "Perhaps, though I fail to see the usefulness of this particular exercise, unless you intend to take up dueling as a hobby."


    Silver muttered as he gathered up the splinters of his shield.


    "I already told you, I need to improve my reflexes and Sledge is more than happy to practice his bonkin''."


    Sledge smiled and clapped Silver on the shoulder.


    "Any time ol'' pal."


    Ink watched as the pair cleaned their mess from the beach and donned their clothes.


    "When you are both ready, I believe Gale has an update on the job."


    Silver responded without looking back.


    "She certainly settled in quickly. I don''t think I took to the life as well as she has."


    Silver saw a flurry of movement from Ink.


    "Everything alright there Ink?"


    The Lucidfolk had stepped back onto the pavement and taken off a boot and uttered a gentle incantation. Sand exploded out of the boot far faster than it could have been poured.


    "I do not understand how this much sand entered my boots in such a small amount of time."


    Sledge laughed with a hearty chuckle before falling backwards into the sand and rolling in the dust, causing Ink to recoil at the sight.


    "I dun get it Inky, da sand feels right nice ta me. Is ex-fo-li-ate-ing."


    Ink stared in surprise and horror at the sandy Pridefolk.


    "...word of the day?"


    Sledge''s grin widened, showing an array of pointed teeth as he looked up at Ink.


    "Naw, saw sum soap ''n da boy keep on sayin'' how ex-fo-li-ate-ing it is. I try me grubbers ''n it felt real sandy. Ex-fo-li-ate-ing."


    Ink stared, narrowing their eyes, the sand had long since run empty from their boot.


    "I... see..."


    Silver had finished cleaning up and stepped up onto the dark grey pavement.


    "Shall we?"


    Ink intentionally and slowly put their boot back on as Sledge jumped to his feet and shook loose countless grains of sand. The group left the beach and headed back to town.


    <hr>


    Sledge jauntily pranced down the main street of the Caldera Shantytown. He was a full head taller than Silva, who was already quite tall for a Starborn. Inky on the other hand, well they maybe just reached the bottom of his ribs. It was turning into a pleasant sunny day, very nearly the apex of summer and the start of a new year. Face and Sparks had promised him that the company would all be back in Arx Boreas for the new year celebrations. While Sledge was hopeful, it wasn''t looking likely, it was easily a twenty day trip along the canals back. He mentally grumbled that Face and Sparks got to stay behind and ''build the business'' while he had to endure not just one barge voyage, but two!


    Instead of fixating on what could be, Sledge took in his surroundings. It was still morning and the light of day had not yet fully crested the lip of the Caldera, leaving much of the Shantytown illuminated by the galvonic blue of the arc lights. Guilder and wrights aplenty were already crowding the street, bustling to get their morning grub before another day of labor. The pavement felt cool on the pads of Sledge''s feet and the unremarkable smell of fresh redbread and lightly spiced stews contrasted with the odor of people. Sledge longed for a plate of smoked fish, but such commodities were unlikely to be found here.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Though the Caldera was partly filled with water, no fish grew here. Sledge had asked Inky about it and roughly understood that the water was too spicy for the fishies. Inky knew all sorts of fun things and seemed happy to talk at length about them. Sledge mostly tuned it out, but talking made Inky happy and that made Sledge happy.


    Sledge took the lead as they waded into the crowd. He did not force his way through, most smaller than him gave way and most were smaller than him. Gale had found accommodations for the group at an inn called the Tawdy Bucket and had even gotten them the Guild discount! While an unimpressive shack of a building made up the the exterior, it''s interior left one feeling somehow more underwhelmed and curious where all their coin went. A collection of stools and tables haphazardly spilled across a wide and narrow room. In the corner, an ill kept bar was staffed by an exhausted Sternfolk boy. Sledge was certain his name was ''olland. Maybe ''owland? ''oward?


    "Eyyo ''owlanard, can we git sum ale? Busy work knockin'' down Silva ''ere."


    He smiled at his Starborn companion, who met his gaze and Sledge quickly looked away. Silva''s scales were a pleasant shade of blue, and while he was a most agreeable fellow, Sledge could not keep eye contact with him. There was something about the metal in his eyes that raised Sledge''s fur and gave him a nervous energy.


    The bar-boy looked up at the trio and plainly stated.


    "Ale or mead? Last night you said ale but you complained that it wasn''t sweet. So, ale or mead?"


    Sledge contemplated a moment before Inky responded.


    "Water and redbread, I need to keep his mind from wandering."


    Sledge felt his face sloop sullen, sometimes Inky was no fun at all. The bar-boy dipped into the kitchen behind the bar, arriving back with three plates of redbread drenched in gravy and three wooden mugs. He placed the meals onto the bar and looked tiredly at Inky.


    "Should I add this to the ledger or do you want to close out?"


    Inky responded quickly, grabbing their food and drink.


    "On the ledger for now, we should close out soon."


    Silva added a polite thanks as he took his set upstairs.


    Sledge took his plate and mug and stared curiously at the bar-boy.


    "Ya been ''ere all night lad?"


    The lad sighed deeply.


    "Harun never came in last night so, here I am."


    He grinned but there was no smile to be found.


    Sledge poked at his soggy bread as he responded.


    "Wan'' me ta look inta it? ''Ave an address for ''im? Mebbe'' I could ask Stabby to ''old da bar down w''ile you git sum winks?"


    The bar-boy took a moment to parse the question before responding.


    "Harun lives two blocks down main street in a townhouse the right. I think it''s number 12? If you have time to check, I''d appreciate it. I''ll stay on for now, maybe close up once the morning rush is over. Thanks."


    Sledge nodded approvingly before following his companions upstairs.


    <hr>


    Ink partook the breakfast at a polite and appropriate pace. They took no joy in the experience of food and was continually envious of the flora who could simply drink in the daylight for their energy needs. As they ate, they watched the others in the room, particularly at their eyes. Ink found that many a secret hid behind the eyes of others. For example, Silver''s were quite unique and were a clear mark of his service. His sclera swirled with variations of metallic silvers while his pupils formed a cross of rectangles. The silver was what distinguished him, only those who had served as Imperators within the Illuminant were thusly marked. Silver didn''t speak of his service and Ink had the sense not to ask. The Imperators had a reputation after all, being something of the enforcers of the Mortal Laws of the Empire.


    Sledge on the other hand, had wedge-like slits surrounded by a green iris. Ink was confident that the emptiness found in his eyes indicated that nary a thought bounced around in the behemoth''s mind. He was, however, exceedingly proficient in lifting heavy objects and finding those who did not wish to be found.


    Knives, called Stabby by Sledge, had the gentlest eyes with hazel surrounding a circular black pupil. Sometimes, if Ink gazed long enough, wisps of smoke could bee seen drifting across the hazel as well. Though having the eyes and face of a Sternfolk, his Kindred build marked him as a Bastard. Now Ink had nothing against Bastards, after all they were just mixed lineages of two different ancestries. Ink did not understand why this was the name given to them, but arrived at the conclusion that others must simply be envious at the clear benefits of a mixed lineage.


    "Ink are you paying attention."


    Ink turned and faced towards Gale, who had clearly been talking this whole time and had a look of annoyance in her eyes.


    "Apologies Gale, could you repeat the question?"


    Sledge snickered as he finished the last of his redbread and Gale stared coldly into Ink''s eyes. Hers too were unique, horizontal rectangles that were surrounded by yellow, but he fought the urge to dig more deeply into the pain present there. As one of the Cloudbeards, she stood roughly the same height as Ink with olive skin and a beard of vivid purple in a complex braid that Ink knew had meaning. Around her neck she also bore a fanciful pendant of an eye cast towards the sky surrounded by a circular helix of stylized lightning, marking her as one of the penitent of the Cult of the Matron.


    "No question, you just looked dazed and your face colors were swirling. Now pay attention, I want to make sure we are all on the same page."


    Ink resisted the automatic reply of ''Yes Teacher'' that was typical of their youth and continued consuming the mush. It was unfortunate that Gale had correlated certain color patterns with thought patterns.


    "As I was saying, I received an update from the dock master that we will be attached to a large shipment leaving this afternoon. The Guild plans to lash three barges together and the five of us will be responsible for getting it safely to Arx Boreas."


    She cleared her throat before continuing.


    "The expected travel duration is twenty days, so Knives I want you to make sure we have double that with a full month''s worth of travel provisions. As a reminder, you are the designated guide on this convoy as there will be no other Myst Hunters present."


    The bastard nodded in affirmation.


    "Over the last month and a half, the Guild has lost over half its shipments on the route we are assigned."


    She paused and grabbed at her beard before continuing.


    "As of now, we have practically no information about these attacks other than they occur between the Caldera and the capital. None of the other canal lanes seem impacted including the parallel route from Arx Boreas to the Caldera. The Guild has not determined what these bandits are after. Our contract stipulates that we are to guard this convoy to its final destination of the Guild Docks in Arx Boreas. Questions?"


    Sledge cautiously raised his hand, looking across the room at the others present before speaking.


    "Ya, um, why are der so few mercs on da job? I mean, I''m gud inna scrap, but jus''da five o'' us?"


    Ink stared intently at Sledge and found themselves curious at the answer as well as Gale responded.


    "The Guild believes this to be the work of small time bandits and the presence of bannered mercenaries should be adequate to dissuade them from attacking. Small groups are being attached to all convoys along this lane."


    Sledge''s hand stayed up.


    "Go ahead Sledge."


    "''N what if  t''ain''t jus'' bandits? I ''eard tales o'' all sorts''a monsta''s in da mysts."


    Gale narrowed her eyes some as Knives raised an eyebrow and looked over at Sledge.


    "Then you and Knives will put your particular talents to work. Any other questions?"


    Sledge''s hand continued to remain aloft and Gale let the silence fully fill the room before acknowledging.


    "Yes?"


    "I got somet''in dat needs doin'' roigt quick, can I borrow Silva?"


    "Make it quick, the convoy is heading out just after 2. Silver you have the hand clock?"


    Ink responded first.


    "No I have it, I''ll go along as well unless I am needed elsewhere."


    Gale shook her head and simply stated.


    "Get to it."