Faestivul of Coming Cold – Dee One of Five, 768 A.E.

  A flash of movement caught his eye, which is to say a lot in the full throng of a Faestivul. It’s not easy to distract one’s attention when everyone around you is whirling, dancing, singing, and carousing. But this girl he saw was different, and that’s what grasped his attention even with all that was going on.

  She was young, far too young even for his constantly evolving tastes in the fairer sex, but she was intriguing, nonetheless. There was an air of vulnerability and need about her that drew his attention as well as the attention of other less than savory types. It was like blood in the water that drew a shark feeding frenzy. There she was amidst the revelers and celebrants exuding need and fear for all who looked to see.

  Nishan grinned wildly and slipped away from the woman who was sucking on his earlobe and running her perfumed fingers across the front of his neck. He offered no explanation as he slid away, and she sought none from him even if she did have the dignity to look rather perturbed that he would just up and leave so abruptly.

  There was not a moment where he felt any regret for abandoning his affectionate partner to the whims of the Faestivul. There were a thousand others like her if he had the inclination or need, and this one had been no better than any of them. This was not a night that would take an effort to find another partner anyway, not that he’d needed the lessened inhibitions that a Faestivul brought with it to find someone to warm his bed for the night. This strange girl, who was so lost and foreign, presented a potential for a much more interesting diversion than the other woman had.

  This girl was like a diamond in the rough, or a white lamb in a sea of grey and black sheep. Something about her drew his eyes and attention, yet he knew he had no interest in her physically. He just didn’t want someone else to have her – he couldn’t abide that. It wasn’t even that he wanted to possess her like one might a trophy; he just wouldn’t let anyone else have her. But this lamb was already drawing wolves and so he felt the need to intervene.

  Nishan ran his anxious hands through his hair; with one deft motion he tied back the collarbone-length wavy locks of glossy black with a leather cord. Then his hands drifted downward, brushing past the silk of his shirt and the leather of his belt before coming to a pair of kerambits, one sheathed on the outside of each thigh. His fingers strayed into the finger loops at the end of the hilt of each of the short, curved blades, reassuring himself that they were still there. The exotic Mueran weapons were uncommon even among the islanders, and even more rare outside of their island.

  He began moving purposefully toward the girl. He moved like a lion stalking its prey, lithe muscles rolling under his skin as he slinked through the crowd. There were no awkward brushings into people who were too drunk to pay attention to where they walked. There were no instances of him stepping on feet or his being stepped on. He slid through the crowd like he was greased and nothing slowed him down. Even when he had to change directions to avoid an obstacle, it would have looked to an onlooker as if he had always planned to move in such a path to reach his destination. He was a man in his element and he moved assuredly.

  The clueless girl was being herded toward an alley. Alleys were the workplaces of rapists, thieves, and those whose actions were best hidden from the public eye. Foul places for foul deeds, Nishan thought as he watched the men at work.

  There were four of them, murderers all of them. They had a taste for young flesh it seemed, young foreign flesh. Nishan still hadn’t managed to place the girl, and he doubted these four cared what her ethnicity was anyway. All they cared for was that she had that vibrant innocence about her, innocence they’d rob her of before they slit her throat and dumped her body. If she was unlucky and Gandahar turned a blind eye on her, they might keep her alive for the duration of the Faestivul. Did she even know she was being hunted? Did these four men know that they were being hunted in turn?

  Nishan let a smile grace his lips. A nearby woman mistook the expression as one meant for her that said come-hither. But as she walked his way, he slid past her without as much as a blink of an eye, leaving her stand there with her mouth open and her words still unsaid. He almost laughed, but that would have detracted from the overall experience of the hunt. The best pleasures were not to be tainted with distraction.

  His pulse raced and his senses seemed to be working on exponential levels. His senses were already sharper than any other man’s that he’d ever met – a blessing from Comrain the Hunter others had told him, but as he neared the girl, every sight, smell, and sound was compounded. He could smell the sweat, mead, cooked meats, and lust in the air. He could taste the fear and excitement of predator and prey. And he could almost hear the beat of his own heart, but if he could just about hear his own, the girl’s came like a hammer on an anvil to his ears. The mere sound of it made him grit his teeth to suppress an excited sigh that nearly escaped his lips. Never had he felt his senses tantalized so strongly by anything. Something special was afoot.

  He surveyed the men he’d have to kill. Three were Rumani and one was a half-breed, likely half Kerathi and half Rumani – a bad mix that meant he was a man of violence and considerable appetites. All four were in their twenties and all were dark-haired. The half-breed had a beard trimmed back to just his jawline and around his mouth. The others wore their hair long, as was the Rumani fashion, but they wore it in an unkempt style. Their clothes were cheap and in need of a good pressing and cleaning, but they didn’t care. Appearances were secondary to pleasures for these men. They carried knives, except for the half-breed, who carried a hand pistol. Nishan decided he was going to be the dangerous one among the four.

  They’d done this before, Nishan thought. They rotated around, slowly forcing the girl toward the alley by nudging the crowd her way. She wouldn’t know what had happened until it was too late, and it was all done with the patience of a master tailor threading a narrow-eyed needle with thick thread.

  When they made their move, it was the half-breed who grabbed the girl, clamping a hand over her mouth as he dragged her into the alley. Struggling was pointless against much larger and stronger men. She had no chance to cry out either, or the pistol pressed into her back was probably a good impetus to not try that hard. The other three men worked as cover, blocking the scene from sight as they backed up and melted into the alley after the half-breed and the girl.

  Nishan felt her heartbeat nearly skip a beat as it jumped into a frightened pace from a merely worried canter. Didn’t the girl know that this would just encourage the men more? Showing strength here instead of fear might have cooled the fires of their desires, but she fed them like she was fanning the flames instead.

  For a moment, Nishan faltered, wondering if he’d read the whole thing wrong. Was it possible that she was some sort of predator herself? There were always dangerous sorts of women, even of the sort that could kill four men like these. Did she lure men into thinking she was helpless only to destroy them with the effort a spider expends to kill a fly trapped in its web? No, excitement and anticipation wouldn’t make her heart race that way. He could still smell her fear and the salty tang of fresh tears being shed as the men gathered around her.

  His path was clear to him as he slipped through the crowd toward the alley.

  “Are you going to share?” Nishan asked, stepping into the shadowy alley. He’d kept his eyes away from bright light sources, so they adjusted quickly to the darkness.

  “You must have a strong wish to visit Nelius.” The half-breed said while gesturing rudely. “Go back to the party.”

  “I think you’ve got all the party I need here.” Nishan replied, nodding toward the girl, who was pinned against the wall by the bulk of the half-breed, who was much larger than her.

  With a toss of his head, the half-breed ordered the other three to deal with him so he could enjoy the fruits of their labors. They wordlessly detached themselves from his side to confront Nishan much like battalions leaving the front lines for a flanking maneuver.

  Nishan licked his lips and causally let his hands drop to his sides while the other men drew their knives. It was ironic to him that knives were considered gentlemen’s weapons in many places, meant for dueling and other matters of pride. Personally, he felt they were much more grisly tools than rifles or swords. The closer you were to the fighting, the stronger your will had to be, and the dirtier you’ll get when you must test your will.

  The first one of the Rumani men threw himself at him. Nishan could smell the pork and the ale from the man’s last meal on his breath as he opened the unfortunate man a new breathing hole. The man’s neck was torn open from ear to ear and air hissed out unnaturally. It was likely that the other two men hadn’t even seen the kerambits come out into his hands. They probably couldn’t see the pair of curved blades twirling in his hands either, since they’d been painted black to kill any reflection they might have.

  The others came at the same time, each one taking a side, but they were not used to fighting side by side. Likely their prey didn’t often put up a fight, so it was not necessary to be good knife fighters. Nishan, on the other hand, sought out fight after fight to prove himself, and he had the scars to prove it – though most of those were old rather than new. A good fighter never has to learn a lesson more than once.

  Crimson splashed on the ground. There was a brief cry of pain as Nishan’s blade ripped diagonally down the second man’s chest like the talons of a great bird of prey tearing at animal flesh. The man crumpled to the ground breathing in agonized gasps like a fish out of water.

  Fear registered in the third man’s face and as he turned to run, realizing his own feeble skills were ineffectual against this stranger, twin kerambits the lengths of fingers gored his back. The man threw his head and shoulders back as he tried to scream in agony, but that only offered his carotid to Nishan, who took the offering without any hesitation.

  The half-breed glanced up from the girl, whose mouth he’d been pressing his own to as he groped at her and trapped her against the wall between his muscular arms. He glanced around, looking for his companions. It had only been a handful of Saycunds, and he certainly didn’t expect to see them all on the ground.

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  “I saved the best for last.” Nishan offered with a grim smile.

  “I don’t know who you are, but – “The half-breed started to say, but he never got the chance to finish.

  He managed to get his arms up to protect his face from Nishan’s kerambits, but the flesh of his arms offered little resistance to those razor-sharp knives. He gasped in surprise as he was cut to the bone – once on each forearm.

  The girl stared wide-eyed at him with a look that seemed far too much like recognition to Nishan. That made him a bit testy, so he took it out on the half-breed, who was reaching for his pistol – not that he’d likely be able to use it with both his of forearms torn apart so badly, but he tried none-the-less.

  Nishan’s next swipe opened the man’s femoral artery and cut him open from groin to navel. Blood and offal spurted out everywhere, and all the man could do was feebly crash onto the filthy cobbles of the alley while his lifeblood poured out as if it had somewhere to be in a hurry.

  “You’re the last.” The girl mouthed in surprise.

  “The last what?” Nishan demanded.

  “The last one… the last one who will help me.”

  “In all of life, I am the last to help you? That’s sad.” Nishan replied, shaking the blood from his knives with a flick of his wrist. “Perhaps you are a child of Uman then, forsaken like us.” He sighed ruefully and touched his inner wrists together in respect to the sleeping God of his people.

  Anthea shook her head. “No, I mean the last one from my enchantment. You’re the last it needed me to find.”

  “You’re talking crazy.” Nishan replied, but he could recognize truth, or at least someone saying something they believed when he heard it. The girl shivered, and it was not because of his gaze.

  “Take me out of here. The dark pains me.”

  “The dark pained these men here too, quite badly really.” He replied, casting his gaze once more toward the men who squirmed and writhed on the ground as they died.

  The girl grimaced. “Take their money. We have need of it.”

  Nishan laughed darkly then and did as she’d asked, taking the half-breed’s pistol as well, lest the man manage to fire it at them somehow before they’d gotten clear of the alley. Then he walked back to the girl, who held out her hands to take his arm. Shaking his head, he let her do so, and then he led her clear of the alley.

  “I’m Anthea.” She announced, looking up at his finely shaped face.

  “You’re not scared of me, are you?” He asked her, slipping them back into the crowd without anyone noticing that something out of the ordinary had just happened.

  “I’m never scared of friends, only enemies.”

  “I’m scared of both, because both can be dangerous.”

  “You’re not scared of anything.” Anthea told him.

  Nishan smiled warmly, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. “You’re right. I’m not.”

  “Then don’t be scared of my companions or what I must do.”

  “Never.” He promised, laughing once more. He realized just after the word spilled so easily from his mouth that what he’d just said meant they might be together for more than just the night. He had just acknowledged that they might be in each other’s company for some time, but he had no idea why that might come to pass.

  He noticed then that her heart was not heavy with what she’d just been through. No, Anthea was strong, too strong for her age. He wondered what hardships she’d been through. Whatever had happened to her to bring her to this point and this place at just this exact time, the Gods and Goddesses must have their hands in it, he thought. And that was fine by him. He had no fear of the divine. After all, one had already blessed him, perhaps more.

  “Let me show you the nicer side of Rummas, away from the seediness and immorality.” Nishan suggested.

  “I’ll go anywhere there’s light.” Anthea said with a shiver.

  “So, you don’t need to get back to your companions right away?”

  Anthea considered for a moment before replying. “No, it’s alright. They’re worried I’m sure, but I can spare an Ouer perhaps.”

  Nishan nodded. “Fair enough. In one Ouer, longer if you want, we will seek out your friends. For now, it is only you and I in the midst of a Faestivul, and we must enjoy ourselves.”

  “We must.” Anthea seconded with a smile.

  Anthea sat beside Nishan, huddling against his shoulder for warmth. Their legs dangled over the edge of a flat tile-roofed building, swinging in the carefree manner of children as they watched the Dee come to an end. The only light they had, other than the dozens of oil lamps, cookfires, lanterns, candles, and torches down below, was a single glass-shuttered lantern with a trio of tallow candles burning within it.

  The lantern sat beside Anthea, bathing her features in its pale orange light. Her hair glittered in the dim light, its silvery threads picked out like strings of rhinestones. Her face had settled into an affable smile some time ago, and Nishan looked at her from time to time, expecting some sort of change.

  Anthea noticed this and looked at him after the fifth or sixth sideways glance her way. With most of the light being soaked up by her out of necessity, there was little that got past her to illuminate his face, but there were still things she could see.

  Even with his hair tied back, she could see little more than the top of his nose and the edges of his cheekbones protruding from the shadows that concealed most of his face. His eyes were twin glints of glass hiding under the shadows his brow cast, and while she could see his lips beginning to form words, she couldn’t have read them even if she’d tried.

  “You seem rather calm considering what all befell you tonight.” Nishan remarked. “You have seemingly been separated from the friends you mentioned before, and you were attacked. Horrible things could have happened to you.”

  “But they did not because you saved me first.” Anthea pointed out.

  “Quite true, but you’re not even shaken up about it. I know women who have endured less that hide from the memories even after Munths have passed.”

  “I was worried, don’t get me wrong.”

  “I know, I could hear your heartbeat. It was racing. You were terrified – until I arrived. How could you have possibly known I wasn’t working with them? I could have been someone waiting to prey on them and you.”

  “My enchantment let me know you were going to help me.” Anthea replied. “At that moment, I just knew everything would be fine. Every time in the past that I’ve needed help, the enchantment has sent someone at just the right time to save me. There’s always the right person near me at the right time.”

  “Then you are truly blessed, Anthea. I doubt another person in the entire Broken Crown could say such things and mean them as I feel you do.”

  “I would say I am blessed, but at the same time, I have endured much to get this far, and my journey is not over by any means.”

  “Where are you from and where do you go?” Nishan asked, curious where such an enigmatic girl would be heading.

  “I’m out of Cenalium, and I seek Aetheline. After that I may have to return home to set things aright. I’m not sure. The enchantment will let me know what I must do when the time is right.”

  Nishan idly rolled a coin in his hand, tucking it in-between his fingers and rolling it about his knuckles as he listened. The names of the places she spoke of meant little to him since he had no dealings with them, but then maps were not one of his interests. Magick was. “You speak of enchantments, but by whose name do you invoke these auguries? What is their reason and what powers them? I have seen many charlatans that claim to have powers, especially among my people, but never have I seen any proof.”

  “Stay around me long enough, and you’ll surely seen proof.” Anthea promised. “As to the origins of my abilities, that answer lies in my heritage. My mother was a Kerathi Thaumaturge and my father was an Aurean soldier. I was gifted with her flower magicks and his need for the sun.”

  “Aurean and Kerathi? How is that possible?” If he knew little of Aureans, it was common knowledge that they couldn’t breed outside their race. They couldn’t any more than an Ox-Man could.

  “I don’t know. I never really thought about it before. I just am, and I never thought to question how I came into being. Yet everyone is so surprised by my heritage that I have come to realize that I am something of an anomaly.”

  Nishan nodded in agreement. “Surely you are unique, that I would not doubt.”

  “And you are not? You claim to have been able to hear my heartbeat.”

  “And you think I cannot?” Nishan grinned and began tapping a rhythm on the tin roof beneath them.

  Anthea listened for a moment, but any doubts she might have had were quickly dispelled. His fingertips tapped the exact same rhythm she felt thrumming throughout her body. It wasn’t just close – it was dead on. “I see.” She said quietly. “How is it that your hearing is so good then? Do all Rumani have such precise hearing?”

  Nishan laughed. “Hardly. Some say it was one of the gifts Comrain the Hunter gave me. Who else could give a man such gifts? My sense of hearing, sight, and smell are better than some animals.”

  “It could have been Rishalt then. He is said to carry the best traits of a dozen animals. He is the God of Beasts. Or what of Uman, isn’t he your people’s most important God?”

  Nishan’s face sobered upon hearing mention of Uman. He sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. “Some have said that I am meant for great things, destined to serve Uman. I haven’t the arrogance to assume such. I am many things, but the Hand of a God is not one.”

  “There is often greatness in the unlikeliest of places.” Anthea replied.

  “Even in a womanizing, gambling, murdering son of the Rumani?”

  “That sounds like a longshot, but perhaps.” Anthea teased.

  Nishan laughed aloud, throwing his head back. Baring his soul to this girl lifted unimaginable weight off his shoulders, and it gladdened him to do so.

  “So, you do have a lighter side?” She asked after he quieted.

  He nodded, and noticing her shiver, he put an arm around her shoulders. There was nothing of romance in the gesture. Rather, it was a brotherly expression of consideration. They watched the celebration going on five Mayters below them slowly grind to a halt, though there were still those who would be enjoying themselves for another Ouer or more before they dropped from exhaustion and alcohol intake.

  Then, the next Dee it would all begin anew, but not until after everyone had slept for a long time and the streets were swept clean by large crews of workers who rotated schedules, so they’d not have to give up their own opportunities to celebrate. It was the same in most places, though perhaps not to such a hedonistic extreme as here in Rummas. Even Cenalium had observed the Faestivuls similarly, if in a more subdued fashion.

  “It’s not really the cold.” Anthea whispered, breaking the silence. She leaned into him anyway, even though she truly was not cold. He might not smell like the comforting musk Bedros had about him, but it was the next best thing.

  Nishan’s mind drifted back to her comments in the alleyway. “The dark?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “How like a flower you are.” He said, brushing her hair back behind her ears.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “You need sun to grow and live. Your hair is bright like petals, and your face is the colorful center of the blossom. You will be rather stunning somedee, I think.” Nishan prophesied, pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  “I’m not sure I’d like the attention if it’s anything like what happened earlier. His lips tasted of drink and cheap food, and he wasn’t being very gentlemanly. Besides, I already have enough trouble with what has been laid before me, and the Aureans may still be searching for me.”

  “You have fled from them then?”

  “They seem to want me. My father may have died to buy my escape, and they burned a Kerathi village and at least part of a sizeable city during a second attempt to capture me. Only escaping into a storm while one of my companions led them away from me allowed me to get this far.”

  “So they know you’re still out there somewhere?” Nishan asked, waving his free hand across the horizon.

  Anthea shrugged. “Maybe. I enchanted the decoy ship to look like we were all on it, but I suppose we can’t necessarily trust that to have fooled them completely.”

  “I’m sure they have some use for you then, if they’d go to so much effort. Yes, it might be wise to not stop looking over your shoulder.” Nishan agreed. “It’s also useful in finding new threats, as well as the old ones coming back.”

  “There is so much I must do.” Anthea said wearily.

  “Take it one step at a time. Every journey begins with one step.”

  “Then the first step in what I have remaining to do is finding my companions.”

  “Good. And the second?”

  “Sleep.” Anthea said with a tired grin.

  Nishan grinned and stood, offering her a hand to pull her up.

  She took it without hesitation. Thus far, the enchantment had never been wrong. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be, but she had sensed the goodness in this man from the beginning. Underneath all the posturing, brooding, and the bad habits he seemed to have, there was a kernel of goodness aching to be let out.