Autumn Equinox

Chapter 5

Demon looked up and squinted at the sun, guessing it to be just past midday. At the slow, meandering pace she was walking at, it would probably be just another ten minutes before she reached the border of the DarkSkies faction, and then she would reach the main square around early evening.

She scowled when her stomach complained about her lack of food that day. She was reminded by her dry mouth that she hadn’t drunk anything that day, either.

The sound of a quickly moving creek alerted her that she was headed in the right direction, as the creek was also a natural borderline between the RedRain and DarkSkies factions. When she reached the edge, she pulled down her mask, cupped her hands, and used them as a cup to drink from the creek.

She looked across the creek and her scowl deepened. It’s too far for me to jump over, but too deep for me to wade through. Guess that’s alright, I haven’t had a chance to re-waterproof these boots yet, she thought to herself. Now, how do I get across? Stupid MoonSong mercenaries, making me miss the path.

She pulled up her mask and looked to her left and right, squinting at the distance. A ways to her left, an old tree had fallen across the river to form a bridge of sorts. She walked up to it and climbed onto the end. She jumped a bit, trying to see if it would move at all. Noting that it was not going anywhere, she scanned across its trunk, making sure it hadn’t been eaten away by termites. It hadn’t, so she walked across and jumped off at the end.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that just another short distance, there was an actual bridge over the creek. She berated herself for not seeing it, and walked towards it. By the width of the bridge, she guessed it was either a trade route or a route meant to transport platoons.

There was a woman sitting on the railing of the bridge who, when she noticed Demon, ran up to her yelling, “Hey, you! What are your loyalties and what is your business here?” The woman had platinum blonde hair and sea green eyes rimmed thinly by kohl.

Demon sneered slightly and said calmly, “I am loyal to the RedRain faction and I am here to return a message received late this morning.”

“I’m sorry, but this is strictly for military and trade business. You will have to follow along the creek until the thinner path,” the woman explained, a faint, but still detectible, mocking tone in her voice.

Demon struggled to keep her temper in check and not punch the woman. She allowed her eyelids to crinkle in a smile, though didn’t let it spread into her eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll be sure to remember that when I return home.”

The woman was silent for a second, and just as Demon was about to leave she asked her, “If we sent you a messenger, where is he now?” A tone of suspicion had crept into her voice.

“He was killed by MoonSong warriors,” Demon answered.

“What did he say his name was?” the woman’s voice had changed again to something representing fear.

After a second of silence, Demon answered, “Zinrih, I believe.”

“No, no, no, that’s not possible,” the woman said quietly. “That’s just not possible!” she repeated, her voice raising in volume. “He was my brother,” she whispered, hardly audible again.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Demon said, knowing that rehearsed and trained lines no longer meant much of anything. She frowned and turned and left, not caring to hear the woman crying. She closed her eyes and thought for a second.

“Can I come with you? Please?”

“Heh, no, sorry, not this time, sis.”

“…You promise to come back?”

“Yeah, as always.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t forgive you if you died.”

Her brother mussed her shortly cropped hair and chuckled. He pulled up his fanged cloth mask, turned, and joined his group. He turned once more and waved before they took off at a sprint into the forest, heading north.

Two weeks later, she was informed of his—

Demon shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind, frowning when she realized her eyes had tears forming on the edges. Get over yourself, Arte. It’s been what? Four, five years since he went missing? she reminded herself.

She continued walking, glancing at the position of the sun to keep measure on the time. When the sun had just started nearing the horizon, she caught glimpses of sparsely placed houses. As she continued, they became more and more frequent until they finally turned into the bustling main square.

She glanced around the square, taking note of how many different kinds of people were gathered at the square. Some people had the fluid, rolling gait attributed to years at sea; some had the soundless, graceful step of an assassin; some had the searching, cautious pace of a bounty hunter; and still others had the trained, arrogant bearing of what the DarkSkies called the special ops. From what she had read about them, they were the “best” the DarkSkies had, and were often given harder missions and a few more privileges. She had also read that once someone got into the special ops, their life expectancy was only about five more years. Everyone else around her was either not a fighter or a fighter not belonging to any kind of special grouping.

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She sorted through her memories and carefully wound her way through the square, using landmarks to find her way to the leader’s office. She remembered when her brother had taken her here when she was seven.

When she arrived at her destination, she stopped, staring at the door in slight discomfort. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and opened the door. She walked casually up to the desk, where a blond man she assumed to be Nict’s advisor sat. He looked up with a bored expression and asked with a dull tone, “Do you need something?”

“I need to talk to the leader Nict,” she replied with an equally uninterested tone.

“I’m sorry, but he’s not taking any—”

The advisor was cut off by Demon slamming her palms onto the desk, upsetting a bottle of ink (closed, much to her distress) and causing the man to jump. “Let me rephrase that. I was sent from the RedRain faction! On the way here I was attacked by two MoonSong warriors, one of which killed the God-damned messenger your leader sent! I am hungry, tired, and am in no mood to deal with this kind of shit! I wish to speak your damned leader, now!” she yelled. She pulled away and straightened herself out.

“Iatin, why was a young woman screaming obscenities at you?” someone asked coolly from a doorway near the back of the building. Demon looked up to the source of the voice, seeing a tall man standing there. He had auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and was probably in his mid- to late-thirties. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, black pants, and black boots. A blue silk sash wrapped over his shoulder was the only thing that stood out. It was trimmed with silver thread, and near the end of one side of it, a picture of a hollow cloud design with a solid triangle in the center—the DarkSkies insignia. Demon assumed this to be the leader Nict.

The advisor recomposed himself and answered, “She is a messenger from the RedRain faction—”

“He probably heard that, dumbass,” Demon interrupted again.

“Such a young lady shouldn’t have such a vulgar tongue,” Nict said calmly.

“Eh, bite me,” Demon retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

Nict sighed in annoyance before saying, “Come into my office. I do not want anyone else hearing any more information. I do not believe we can afford any mishaps in these times.” With that, he walked into his office, waiting for Demon to walk in before closing the door.

Demon didn’t wait for him to ask her to explain. “I was sent by my leader Tsaa with the messenger, Zinrih, you sent here earlier today. I had returned to my house to get some things when I heard a noise. The noise was two MoonSong warriors, who killed the messenger. I slipped out the back, but they saw me. I killed them both, though I am still recovering from an injury from the night before. I walked the rest of the way here. All of this just to tell you that Tsaa agrees to your call for war against the MoonSong,” she explained quickly.

“Two MoonSong warriors attacked you in broad daylight?” Nict asked her.

“Yeah, and they were probably the two most insane bastards I’ve ever met,” she answered, ignoring Nict’s berating look.

Nict paused for a few moments before saying, “You don’t seem to have anything but your clothing and your weapons. It is too late to return to your faction. Do you need some place to stay, or do you have arrangements somewhere?”

“Congratulations on your brilliant observations,” Demon said sarcastically. “But, no, I don’t have anywhere to stay.”

“Unfortunately, all of the inn’s rooms are filled with sailors and merchants, so you will have to stay at another warrior’s home. Do you mind if they are male or female?”

“Not particularly. As long as they respect my space, everything should be fine between us,” Demon said, growing bored as she couldn’t think of any way to be sarcastic for the question.

“Here are the directions to a place to stay. He should be there. If not, simply return here and I will find another house,” he said, handing her two pieces of parchment. One had the directions as he had said, while the other had a written note explaining why she was there. She nodded and walked out, not caring to say any form of gratitude.

She exited the building and looked back at the paper, turning to the left, following for a few streets before taking a right. She counted the houses until she came to a house with the number eighty-three painted on the door. She strode up to the door and knocked loudly a few times and stood back.

She heard the click of someone unlocking the door, and when the door opened, she stared in disbelief. “Kyth?” she squeaked out.

“Do I know you?” he asked, sounding confused.

Demon stared blankly for a second before remembering that when he had met her, she wasn’t wearing her mask or face paint. “Yeah, it’s Teufel,” she said, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

“You accuse me of stalking you, and now you’re here. Are you a hypocrite, or something?” Kyth asked her, leaning against the doorway.

Demon scowled and handed him the written note from Nict. He grabbed it, read over it, and looked back up at her with a slightly crooked smile. “Well then, that clears up everything. Come in and out of the cold.”

“Yes, because it’s always so cold these middle summer times,” Demon retorted, walking in, closing the door behind her.

“You know, I never got your name,” Kyth said. “Do you want me to just keep calling you by your Grundhaus name?”

“My name is Demon,” she replied.

“Seriously? Or are you just being sarcastic?” Kyth asked, looking at her through the corner of his eye.

“It’s what I go by. I’m not allowed to tell you my real name,” Demon answered. After a short pause, she continued, “Given, I’ve never really been much for following rules, but I really hate my actual name.”

“Why?” Kyth asked her, walking over to a closet in the wall and opening it.

“Because it’s really feminine,” she answered curtly. She looked up and said, “Before you set anything up, do you have any food? And water? I had to leave on a really short notice—”

“I know,” he interrupted.

“How?” she asked, skeptically.

“I guessed. You don’t seem like the kind of person to go unprepared for something unless you had no other option.” Kyth continued sorting through the closet and pulled out a blanket and a pillow. He tossed the two items at Demon, who caught them, glaring at him. “On to food and water,” he said, smiling mockingly. “I don’t really have much here. My sister’s been stuck with the graveyard shift guard, leaving her in no condition to leave the house.”

“You share your house with your sister?” Demon asked him, dropping the blanket and pillow on the ground uncaringly and following behind him into a kitchen.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he answered, opening another closet door. “I guess it’s for the best. God knows what kind of bastard’s house she’d be in, otherwise.” He rifled through the closet for a few seconds before asking her, “Which do you prefer: three day old bread or a peach?”

“Don’t you have anything more substantial?” Demon asked him, walking over to his right and peering over his shoulder.

“No, I’ll be running over to the neighbors’ house for something they made later tonight. I think they said something about stew, but I can’t remember what kind.”

“Peach it is, then. And do you always mooch food from your neighbors?”

“No, they owe me. I repainted their house and fixed a hole in their roof,” he answered, turning to hand Demon a peach.

“Aren’t you just so talented?” Demon sneered, grabbing the fruit from his hand.

“What do you mean?” Kyth asked her, looking back at her from the corner of his eye. Demon noticed he did that a lot.

“You’re a swordsman. You know medical procedures. You can replace roofs. Next you’ll be telling me that you’re a professional portrait painter or something,” Demon explained, before taking a bite of the fruit.

Kyth chuckled lightly and said, “I’m not that talented. I’m good swordsman, yes, but not anything to talk about. I only know a few medical procedures. I’m no healer. And it took me practically half the day to figure out how to patch that roof.” He looked at her directly. “Besides, look at you. You’re a hand-to-hand fighter, a knife wielder, and a swordswoman. And just by how you’re still favoring your right shoulder, I’m guessing you’re stubborn as all hell when it comes to getting wounds healed, so I feel bad for your teachers.”

“Only one teacher taught me everything I know,” she muttered.

“Who?” he asked her. “I would like to meet him.”

“My brother… and you won’t ever meet him,” she muttered, scowling and wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject.

“Why? Is he insane or something?” Kyth asked her, smirking slightly.

“I wouldn’t know. He’s been missing for the past five years,” Demon answered, trying desperately to keep her temper in check.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry. I didn—”

Demon interrupted him, “It’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to know.” She pushed recurring memories into the back of her head.

The feeling in the house had sobered up completely. Demon took this opportunity to memorize what Kyth looked like. He had dark, midnight blue eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair. He had a faint, thin scar stretching from his left ear lobe down across to the right along his neck to where it disappeared beneath his shirt collar.

“I better head over to the neighbors’ house,” he said quietly, before walking out the front door without another word.

Demon sighed, walked over to a small, worn sofa and curled up on it, continuing to eat the since-forgotten peach still in her hand.