She stood arguing, haggling the price of a beaded necklace with a short, squat man. Not because she wanted the necklace really, but because she liked the argument. "Now... I don't think this is worth fifteen silver pieces at all! Why, those ain't sea glass. Trust me, I know sea glass. This is just regular glass!" Ryn grinned, chomping on the end of her cigar, her hip resting on his stall. She folded her arms under her breasts so that they jiggled and she laughed brightly when the shopkeep couldn't keep his eyes off them.
The man sweated profusely and mopped his red, pockmarked face with a mushroom colored hankie that might have once been white. A million years ago. "Now see here, Miss. My goods are of the highest quality. Lovely things. For lovely people." He gestured at her. "Like yourself."
"Hey!" she barked. "Flattery ain't gonna trick me."
His jowls quivered and his eyes widened. "But miss –"
"Stormcrow. Captain. I ain't no miss. I'm a captain."
He paled. "Captain Stormcrow?"
She nodded. "I figure you heard of me. So. How about I get a discount and some information, hmm? Wouldn't want to have to cause a fuss. You know," she leaned in conspiratorially. "My crew's out there. I just gotta give the signal." She snapped and he jumped. "And that's it. That's all she wrote!"
It was all a lie, of course.
"F-fine. Just... just take the necklace. And I will tell you whatever you want. I've a family. Four chil –"
She sneered. Ryn had heard that song and dance at least a hundred times. It never moved her. Not once. "Can it. I don't give a fuck how many squalling brats you got." She snatched up the necklace and put it on. It was pretty! Blue sea glass in a myriad shades that complimented her eyes. They were prismatic and lovely.
"Now for that information." She grinned and winked and leaned over the stall. The man's eyes bulged and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
Ryn plucked at a scarf. It was red, her second favorite color, and beaded with shells and chips of abalone. "I'm lookin' fer this idol. Idol of Turtih. Coulda been sold here in the Market, maybe sold to someone up top. Or someone down here." She raised her gaze to him, deadly serious now, her charming, crooked smiled gone. "Know anything 'bout that?"
She knew before he answered that he didn't know a damn thing. The man pursed his lips and slowly shook his head. "I have heard of the idol, but nothing that important would be sold here. There are lower markets," he offered. "But not on Feast days. You'd have to wait till next week, until after the Feast of Baellith."
Bah, she didn't want to be down here that long. He was right too. Why would something like that be sold here? The market was full of idols, true, but they were powerless trinkets and she seriously doubted that the Lady Shadowglade wanted a useless knick-knack.
She wondered if Kia had any more luck.
Ryn paid the man for his trouble after all, though not much. She never remembered to carry any coin on her, not more than a few silver. She stole what she needed or wanted almost always. It was a habit. She wandered lazily through the throngs of people and stalls and snagged some meat on a stick. She wasn't sure what it was, rat maybe? Lizard? It was greasy and gamey but dipped in a sweet, sticky honey sauce that was pleasantly spicy. It was good! She was sure she'd be sorry for eating it later, but she never did anything while thinking of the consequences lest they hold her back.
Kia. She thought. Hard to read, that one. She leaned against a stall that sold bird skulls in all sizes and shapes and lit her cigar. She liked him. He was her kind of man. Rough around the edges, surly. She imagined being with him, all the fights they'd have. Then all the time spent making up. She grinned. She didn't give a single damn that he had a girl. Ryn was determined to have him, at least once.
So she was anxious for him to get back. She bounced on the balls of her feet and scanned the crowd. He was hard to miss. An ugly, ugly man. Tall and broad. But she didn't see him. She wondered how long she should wait before she hunted him down. Kia'd been gone a long while now. Hours. Worry gnawed at her.
"Gods' shit," she muttered. Not because she was that worried. He was a big, mean guy; he could likely take care of himself. But because she liked him. Some things, she thought, were just fate. Written in the stars. They were destined to meet and fall in love, she thought. Even if he didn't know it yet. She knew it. Knew it the moment she saw him. It made her grin, slow and crooked as she scanned the milling crowd for his ugly face.
Drums boomed. Rhythmic, with a slow build. The crowd went silent and then shifted, moving out of the way. Ryn frowned and stubbed out her smoke and watched, slipping behind a couple of men much taller than she was. On her way to do so, she stole a thick, dark green cloak and tugged it over herself. She felt nervous. Felt the need to hide.
It was almost preternatural with Anryn. She always got a sense, like a cat does before a bad storm. She knew her ass was in a sling somehow. So she hid, drawing the cowl of the cloak low over her face.
Guards, men, and women in dark, twisted metal carrying the banners of the Spider marched. Seralah's colors. Black and green, the green of a wound gone rancid. Ryn moved through the crowd, weaving in between bodies to get closer, keeping her stolen cloak wrapped tightly about her wiry frame, still chewing on her roasted...well, meat. Whatever it was.
She elbowed a girl with a basket of wilted flowers next to her. "What's the story?" she whispered loudly.
The girl startled, her dirty face paling under the grime. "Sacrifice," she whispered. "Big one." She tugged on Ryn's sleeve. "Look! The Prophet of Nehmain herself." She pointed and Ryn looked. There, high above the market, in a sewage drain that had been converted to a balcony, was the Queen of the Underworld. She was a tiny, porcelain pale girl with big eyes and ink black hair that fell in a middle part. She looked like a child. She wore all black and was flanked by two hulking stitched-together Unquenched.
Seralah Bloodhaven. The Prophet of Nehmain. The Mad. The Spider. She looked like a little girl in a candy shop. Hell, Ryn thought, with a growing sense of dread, she was clapping her little hands in glee. With titles like that, Ryn doubted the glee was over anything good.
"Who's the poor sod they're offing?" she asked the girl, keeping her gaze trained on the prophet on the balcony.
The girl shrugged. "Someone from up top, probably."
She nodded, frowning, hiding her face from the girl. "Right. Rotten Toppers. Fuck 'em."
Ryn settled into her spot, gawking and rubbernecking like the rest of the now hushed crowd. She got on her tiptoes, chewing on the now meat-free wooden kabob stick. They had someone! She could see them dragging what was clearly a man with a hood over his head. The guards were rough and pushed him. He was a big man, broad shouldered and –
Fuck.
Was that Kia? Couldn't be. But the build was exactly the same and she thought she caught a glimpse of swarthy skin. Seralah's guards marched the man up some scaffolding steps. There, above the rest of the market, was a big cobbled together skeleton of some mammoth creature. A sea leviathan maybe. A dragon. Ryn wasn't sure. It was a huge ribcage with chains hanging on the inside.
The man was pushed up next to the ribcage and a hulking tall and broad woman with short cropped black hair yanked the hood off.
Ryn made a sharp little gasp. She even reached out. The girl next to her cut her an odd glance but she didn't notice. There he was. Kia. He looked disoriented, blinking in the dim light of the market as the crowd erupted into cheers and booing and hissing. The woman hollered something Ryn couldn't make out and shoved Kia into the cage and slammed the iron door shut. The ribcage was a literal cage. She could tell he was afraid by how tense he was, how he backed himself into a corner.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the woman boomed. She waved her arms about in a theatrical fashion. Ryn decided to shoot her in the guts. So she'd suffer. "We have for you something very special here this evening. Someone I know many of you have had encounters with, either directly or indirectly. In a way, he has touched all of our lives, hasn't he? Many of you don't even know his name," The brutish woman paused, holding up an armored hand. She plodded back and forth, like a pacing lioness. Ryn's stomach knotted and twisted and sweat trickled down the back of her neck. This. This was bad.
The woman stopped dead center and whipped her acid-green cape behind her. She lofted her squared chin. "Mister Kia Sin'del, the Old Dog himself. Captain of the West Lion that drops poison into our cities. Drugs. Illegal prostitution. Gambling. Murder. He is a merchant of death and destruction, and needs to be made an example of, doesn't he? He needs to be replaced by someone much more trusted. Someone who will bring order to this chaos. Someone who I know you all can trust to bring peace into your homes, minds, and hearts." The woman went quiet, pacing again, whipping that cape behind her. Ryn rolled her eyes. Fuck's sake. Bitch was full of hot air.
"For those of you who don't know me, I am Captain Senni Firedawn, leader of the high priestess and prophet's armed forces and her acting right hand. We bring to you today a demonstration of her power. Today, I bring you the death of Kia Sin'del, in the name of Seralah Bloodhaven, the next Empress of the city of Belshalara!"
More guards poured in and between them they dragged two rotting Unquenched in chains.
Ryn had seen enough. She slipped into the jeering crowd as the music started to play. It sounded like carnival music, disjointed, unsettling.
"Hang in there, honey," she muttered as she darted in and out of the near hysterical crowd. They were chanting and keening. Bunch of freaks, she thought. It made her feel better about what she was about to do. She patted her pants' pockets searching for her matches.
Tugging the hood low over her face, Ryn ducked behind a stall that sold "magic" potions and tonics. When she had the matchbook free, she slipped into the stall, yanking up the tented flap to get behind the counter. She squatted down and looked up at the myriad colored liquids in the glass vials and bottles. Some were green, the color of horse apples. Some were bright pink. Others were a baleful red.
One by one, she uncorked and poured until the ground at her feet smoked and stank. She held her sleeved arm over her face as her eyes streamed tears. Still, she poured. Ryn didn't know much about magic; being common born, she didn't have the proclivity. And it was never a subject that interested her much besides. But she wagered that fire plus this nasty smelling stuff would be explosive to say the least. The smell was staggering!
When she'd emptied about twenty bottles and was dizzy from the fumes, Ryn jumped over the counter and tossed a lit match over her shoulder. Smoothly, she drew her pistol and kept it concealed in her cloak as she darted back into the crowd without looking back. Before she'd left the mess she'd made, Ryn shoved a couple bottles of medical grade alcohol into the big pockets of the cloak. Smoke rapidly filled and billowed out of the potion maker's stall.
Dancing around a big man cheering and swaying, Ryn tossed one of the bottles into a stall full of liquor and beer. A match followed. Now that went up in flames immediately but by the time the screaming started? Ryn was fifty yards away. No one took note of the fleet-footed scamp dashing through the writhing bodies. There was a lot of smoke now and the guards had stopped dragging the Unquenched towards the scaffolding. They were looking for the source of the sour smells and thick, gray-green smoke. Good. They all looked in the opposite direction she was going.
There it was! Magda the Mad's tent. Fucking bitch telling her not to touch stuff. Ryn snickered as she smashed the bottle of alcohol on the floor. Two matches to make sure it went up like a firework.
Two things happened simultaneously.
First, the potion maker's stall exploded. The blast was so profound that it knocked Ryn on her ass. She had to scuttle and crab walk out of Magda's tent. Which was now ablaze. She scrambled to get to her feet, ears ringing from the explosion.
Second, the crowd went mad. The fire was the catalyst to some of the magic in the potion maker's stall and now things made of flame and smoke snarled and leapt. A wiry dog made of black smoke had a woman by the ankle and dragged her across the ground, kicking and screaming. It devoured her with teeth that weren't even there. Ryn made a face. Oh well! The chaos was good. A winged serpent made of orange flame soared above the crowd, shooting gouts of fire at the guards. Senni Firedawn screamed and pointed and commanded from her spot next to Kia's cage.
But she went unheard. The guards that had been holding the Unquenched were... oh dear. They were gone. And their charges now feasted on anyone their grasping hands could catch. Smoke filled the huge underground chamber in black, billowing pillars.
That bitch wanted a show? Fine. Ryn could always cause the best spectacles. She was just sad that this wouldn't end up in the papers. At least this would be talked about down here for years to come. That appeased her.
Somewhat.
Ryn threw off the cloak so that everyone could see her brightly colored, robin's egg blue shirt, her pretty, new necklace, her crimson pants. Her ponytail bobbed behind her as she stepped forward, jaunty and sassy. She raised her pistol high above her head and fired twice. "Get outta the fuckin' way!" she hollered. And the screaming was because of her and not the raging ring of fire around them. The crowd stumbled and parted and she stomped her way towards the scaffolding.
A man lurched towards her. She wasn't sure if he was a guard or not. Smoke stung her eyes and made it hard to see. But she fired. The bullet slammed into the man's forehead and sent him reeling backwards into the surging, panicking crowd. Clearly, no one doubted the small, busty woman's resolve now. They fled from her as she ascended the steps.
Ryn hopped onto the makeshift stage and hollered until her throat ached. "How's this for a 'show' ya cunts?" She laughed, loud and cackling, one hand on her narrow hip. She was fully aware that Senni Firedawn was lumbering towards her. She could hear the hiss of metal as the big woman drew her sword, the plodding thud of her metal shod boots. Ryn held her ground. She didn't turn, not yet.
"My name is Captain Anryn M. F. Stormcrow! Don'tcha dare forget it." She winked and just as Senni Firedawn swung her sword in a well-practiced arc that would have sliced Ryn's head from her shoulders had it found its mark, Ryn shot the woman. In the guts. As promised.
Senni wheeled backwards, dropping her sword. Blood fountained out of her midsection. The woman snarled and staggered towards Ryn again. So Ryn shot her a second time. She nearly unloaded her pistol into her and Ryn was a dead shot. To make sure the woman was good and out of the way but still suffering, Ryn sauntered up to her, where she reeled and hunched over her ruined stomach. "Shouldn't have messed with us," Ryn said in a low voice, leering down at the stooped woman. Ryn put her boot to Senni Firedawn's chest and kicked.
Unquenched were drawn to the smell of blood much in the same way sharks are. And after the cordite from the shots fired cleared, the copper tang of Senni Firedawn's vitae was bright and vibrant in the air. They shuffled towards her as she lay dying in a growing pool of crimson. Ryn watched as they fell in on her, tearing into her, biting her face.
Ryn stopped watching and sneering when Seralah's guard captain didn't scream. She'd died good and brave and now had her respect.
All was chaos now. People fled to go up top, down further below. Like rats trying to escape a flood, they scattered to and fro. The fire was out of control and most all the stalls were ablaze. Ryn coughed, her arm over her nose. She jogged to the cage of bone and metal. Kia was there, bless him. His eye was narrowed and he looked half pissed at her. It made her laugh.
"Stand back, asshole!" she yelled at him, aiming her pistol at the lock. He did as she said, moving to the back corner again. She had one bullet left. Ryn squinted one eye and leveled the gun, tongue poking out the corner of her lips. She blocked out the screams, the smell of burned flesh, and other unsavory things. She blocked out the sound of war horns as more guards were called. She blocked out the sound of the Unquenched and fire creatures feasting on the dead and dying. Ryn fired.
The lock was blown to bits and she yanked the door open. Kia was quick to move to leave his cage but Ryn blocked the way. Breathless and smiling broad, she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and tugged hard, hard enough to make him stoop. Anryn kissed him. Nothing chaste – chaste was for blushing girls and virgin maids, not for pirate queens who set the world on fire. She snaked her tongue between his lips and let it go on far longer than she meant to. She gave him a little shove back, laughing. He looked so dumbfounded. "Come on! We're gonna get dead if we hang around this dump." She scolded him as though he'd been the one causing the hold up.
Kia muscled her out of the way, but she knew it wasn't to showboat. There were two guardsmen on the scaffolding now, ready to kill them both. He stooped and grabbed Senni Firedawn's sword and swept his arm out behind him. To protect her. How cute. It made her heart light.
"That was real fucking stupid, Stormcrow," he said in his low, smoky baritone. It made her heart flutter.
"Yeah. Was. Didn't exactly have hours to plot some master plan. What with yer dumb ass gettin' caught." She grinned fiercely, pistol stuffed into the back of her pants, little dagger in hand. She licked her lips and looked around. No one at their backs. If Kia was handy with that sword, they'd be all right.
She thought she heard him chuckle as he lunged forward. He was all right with a blade, she thought, though he swung it with no grace. He hacked the right arm off the first man, blood spattering across his marred, ugly face. The other guard didn't fare as well. Kia ducked out of the way of a clumsy, likely terrified swing and jabbed the sword into the man's stomach, the thick metal of his armor screaming as he did so. It set her teeth on edge.
They were home free.
Except it's always the threats you don't think about. Just like no one noticed Ryn, her short stature and cloak and quick movements hiding her, Ryn didn't notice the small woman pull herself onto the rickety stage.
She was a tiny-framed girl with dark skin. A girl from the city across the sea. She wore all black and painted red lines on her angular face. In her hand was a throwing knife and the moment Ryn saw her, she knew there wasn't time for much. There wasn't time to reload her pistol. There wasn't time to throw her own dagger, she was shit at throwing knives anyway, more liable to stab herself or cut off a finger than hit her mark. But there was time to save him.
Just not herself, too.
"You owe me one!" she shouted as she dove in between him and the dark skinned girl.
The bite of the dagger snapping into her side was sharp and hot. Ryn stumbled and fell into Kia's side. If it hadn't been for him standing there, she'd have toppled over. It hurt, she thought, way more than it should have. She'd been stabbed before. Had two fingers lopped off. She'd been shot once and the burn of this knife was the worst pain she could remember being in. It brought tears to her eyes and made her dizzy and nauseous. She whimpered in pain as she yanked the blade free. Blood spurted from the wound, painting her side bright red.
The girl was reaching for another blade as Ryn wildly chucked the one coated in her blood at her. It grazed her thigh. But the girl screamed anyway. "No!" she cried. "You've killed me!"
Big baby, Ryn thought, her mind muddled, woozy. Her legs buckled and she collapsed. Dimly, she heard Kia call her name. Not Stormcrow, but Anryn. He'd called her Anryn. It made her smile, slow and lazy. She tried to tell him that she fancied him. She tried to tell him, but her tongue was thick and fuzzy and her lips were numb.
Poison, she thought as the dark closed in around her vision. Well, damn.