A Whisper from the Past (Closed)

by **Zandelia** on March 7th, 2012, 3:50 am

Streets of Sunberth – Spring 3rd, Evening

Zandelia stalked the streets, her senses attuned to the ebb and flow of suspicion and rumor, gossip and intrigue. It had not been a fantastically successful day she had to admit to herself, her leads frittering away from her dampened fingers, the once fiery spark of her passion twisted into more the smouldering ashes of yesteryear’s fires. She hated how even the work she enjoyed had become tainted, hated herself more for the weaknesses that allowed such transformations. Still, it had not been a complete loss, her change of personality – for that is what it had been. She had lost the temerity of foolishness and instead cloaked herself with the doggedness of determination, the razor sharp teeth of tenacity. She was not as energetic an information gatherer now, but she was far more patient and systematic. She was having difficulty deciding which had been better as she splashed through the gutter water, a few unfortunate rats squashed underneath her boots.

Less success, but more truth. Which is better Zandelia? To know you know nothing, or to think you know something which is proven a lie? A pale reflection of reality she thought to herself as she let the last of the five notes she had accrued the day before slip into the puddles around her, there to disintegrate into nothingness.

“This town has been bled dry it seems. Nothing moves, nothing flows. What was here is now gone, taken by some invisible hand set against me. Bastard’s are better too” she kicked a torrent of water at a beggar whose anger at her temerity ceased as soon as he saw her weaponry. “But, one thing is true as my bones. Underdogs can always find somewhere soft to bite” she told herself with satisfaction. Fairytales were what kept her going at the moment, that and the fact she would not be killed off in everything but body. She refused.

She would have rather had her heart ceased first.

Still, she had not had high hopes. Her trails had been drunken rumors and hearsay, her lowest building blocks. A tip off that Daggerhand’s were moving valuables, a magic user she could have extorted for her silence, and so on. No, she had not expected much but had had nothing better to do with her time except drink, and drinking was too expensive these days – far too expensive. It was with a heavy sigh, her breath misting before her, that she cupped her hands to her mouth and blew some warmth into them. It was that action that shifted her hood just enough to see a head flitting back around a corner in anxiety. She kept still, her movements as natural as they had been moments before but her gaze was fixed upon the wall now. If she squinted her one remaining eye she could almost bring herself to believe there was a hint of cloak rippling out from its edge, the hint of another wander’s breath fragmenting into the air just after the horizon of brick and timber.

She tested the theory. Walking away now she carefully picked her way through the puddles so as to seem casual but make no sounds now connected with large movements of water – footsteps for example. Sure enough, a few moments later came the pitter patter of feet through the drainage.

Perhaps not so boring a night after all then Zandelia? she teased herself with as she increased her pace, rounded another corner…and waited.

The stalker approached, footsteps glaringly obvious and signaling two fatal character traits for Sunberth, impatience and inexperience. It was as he rounded the corner that he came face to face with Zandelia, eye glinting in the fading light and a smile upon her face to make the dead weep.

“Evening,” she hailed him with as she grabbed the front of his jerkin and pulled him forwards and sideways, slamming him into the wall with a crunch, “out for a stroll are we?” she asked stonily, smashing his back into the wall this time and rapping the back of their head smartly into the brick.

It was then that she got her first good look at is face, and how she could have wept.

Son of a… she thought to herself in mixed rage and surprise.

by **Zandelia** on March 7th, 2012, 5:08 am

Zandelia’s mind attempted to buckle, to cave in upon itself as reality became the lies and the assumptions of a past life came full circle to be proven false, the memories flashing through her brain in a kaleidoscopic ensemble. Her emotions, locked away for so many years, came filtering out and accompanied sound throughout the slideshow of freeze framed hell and damnation. She could not care that her face must have shown as much shock as if he had just plunged a knife into her gut and just twisted. For all intents and purposes he could have done, for that is the feeling that overcame her body. The world teetered upon the brink as sanity fought with rationality, the outcome so close as to be pointless betting upon. In the last few moments, however, an outside runner stole first place and a cold, hard rage flooded her being with a force that frightened her no end.

“You absolute bastard! You petching pile of fucking manure, how the hell are you still alive?” she asked him first, her voice sharpened razors and bludgeoning clubs, “no, forget that, why the hell are you following me!” she growled at him as she pulled him forwards only to smash him back into the wall once again.

“Oh, not pleased to see me after all of these years…precious? I’m insulted, and would rather hope you would stop throwing me around like that. The dead can hurt you know” he chimed back at her, his voice bringing a shudder to her spine, her skin crawling at the name he gave her.

“Don’t use that name,” she hissed, “Don’t you ever use that name again” she shouted in his face, her hand grabbing for her father’s dagger and pulling it from its sheath and holding it to the man’s neck. “I am NOT your precious and I should have smelled you a mile off. Prepare for your second death Garret, I’ll be very...thorough...this time” she snapped at him as she pulled the dagger back for a killing thrust.

“Wait,wait, WAIT! I can help you! Give you information” Garret’s shrill voice now showing her just how much he feared her words, and promises.

“You don’t have any information! I was always the one to get it for you and you never could. I think I’ll kill you slowly just for begging” she smiled at him, her words honeyed poison and purred, a trick he had taught her long ago now, ironic in its current use.

“No, no, no! I know something! Something you never knew, never suspected. That book, the book you found. It contains more than words, more!” Garret writhed under her grasp but was held firm in her vice-like grip.

Zandelia’s eyes narrowed and she pressed the knife still further against the decaying skin of his neck, every fiber of her being willing her to make to fatal slices that would end his life for good. She had only had one companion that night, the night she had found her father’s book, and she did not think the Ethfael would have betrayed her – not after what they had gone through as word runners together. She let the knife prick his skin a little, more for effect than anything else. She looked him intently in what passed for his eyes, fading as they were, and tried to discern if there were any truth to his words. She did not want to leave Garret alive, he would surely come for her again at some point, but she could not let such a claim pass by without full investigation. She knew he was most probably lying, however her father’s memory meant more to her than anything in the world and her failure at following his travels was still raw within her mind – a noose upon the neck of her confidence. She pressed her advantage.

“How long have you been tracking my movements and discoveries Garret? And try not to lie to me” she demanded.

“A year now, on and off. Two seasons, the last two, most often. You were getting close to finding things all too often, but never made that final step. I couldn’t tell you anything until then” he groaned back at her.

“Were you there that night?!”

“Well I-“

“Were. You. THERE!”

“Yes! Yes I was there. But I wasn’t about to just walk up to you, you maniac! And then I lost you, all traces. Vanished. Couldn’t tell you in time!”

“Tell me what?”

“The truth!”

“ABOUT WHAT?!”

“Your father!”

It was only then that she turned her blade, only to plunge it into the Nuit’s shoulder, releasing white Ichor just enough to let him know she wouldn’t think twice about ending his existence, but not enough to overly wound him. She smiled, wiping the blade upon his tunic as he grunted and bucked in pain. She let him buck and, in ponit of fact, used it to throw him to the floor by his own momentum.

“This is a dangerous game you play now, Garret. If you lie to me, or I think you’re lying, it won’t just be death for you. No, I’ll cut on you, just enough to drain you to the point of weakness. I’ll make you crawl to find somewhere to hide. Then, I’ll come burn it down with you inside it. Family is family after all, even after they are dead,” she told him sweetly, “now….what do you know about my father?” she asked him, standing over him like retribution itself.

by **Zandelia** on March 7th, 2012, 3:09 pm

“Family,” Garret spat with a derisive bitterness Zandelia did not initially understand, “that…man had no family. Everything was a tool to be used, you included. You had best forget family bond when it comes to Markus, or you’ll get eaten alive again” Garret’s words stabbed at her, opening wounds she now knew were only part healed.

“Don’t talk about my father like that Garret, he’s Mister Sansom to you,” she growled as he foot lashed out to hit the Nuit in the ribs, not hard enough to break anything as that would have been fatal and she needed the Nuit for now, but just hard enough to cause pain to be remembered by. “You were talking about truth?” she asked him once again.

This was an old dance she was moving to now, the hustling and shaking down for information. Garret knew her well enough to know she was walking the steps through, however he had not been in touch with her for years now. When she had been a younger woman under his yoke she had not had the advantage of brute force to add to her repertoire of tactics. No, he had had her flirt and dance, tease and distract – something she learnt very well indeed. She had been forced to sleep with men, and women, all in the animate cadaver’s quest for knowledge and power. He had profited well out of Zandelia too, gaining much for little sacrifice in the grand scheme of things – or so he had thought. Zandelia had been his pawn, his plaything. He couldn’t pay with her physically however, so he had chosen the psychological route. His tactics helped Zandelia break out of herself, his sheltering hands shielding her from the backlash of her bloody escape from slavery. They had had one terrible consequence he had not foreseen though, his death, or so she had thought.

Shows how much I know these days, doesn’t it? And I thought I knew much indeed. Still, pain, pain is a good motivator for truth and I am tired of being filled with lies, so very tired she thought to herself as she watched Garret roll sideways a little and curse.

“Markus was only your father in blood you stupid little girl! Don’t you understand? Don’t you see?” Garret screeched at her as he backed away through the mud and grime of the street.

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe you know what family means?” Zandelia purred, foot lashing out to stamp on his leg a little this time, a slight crunching sound indicating more damage than necessary as her tempers flared, “come on Garret, we both know you have no heart to know of such things. My father loved me dearly until he was killed by those slavers!” she ended vehemently, reinforcing her beliefs against Garret’s insidious words.

“Your father’s alive and well, living in another city and growing rich off of the gold he was given for you! He didn’t care enough not to sell you, not to twist your mind with the event! I know! He told me before it happened” Garret screamed at her.

You bastard! You utter bastard! Oh I’m going to enjoy this she told herself with glee.

“My father is alive and well? You are a complete and utter pile of dung aren’t you? I saw him die! I was there when they slaughtered my mother and ran a sword through him! That’s one insult too many you rotting piece of filth! I’m going to enjoy this” she finished as she pulled her dagger out once more and slashed neatly at his legs, two thin cuts that opened flesh for white ichor to seep out, slowly.

“Do you want it more blood, less cuts? Or more cuts, less blood? Oh, I’m sorry, ichor. You don’t bleed like real people do you? she finished as she jammed the tip of her knife into his thigh and twisted a little. The Nuit screamed out in pain.

“Oh come now Garret, you expected anything less? You taught me that the best way to get the truth is to inspire fear, and pain if you can. Well I’m doing both now. You will tell me the truth by the end, that your tongue holds nothing but lies and slander. Won’t you?” she asked him sweetly as the other thigh received the same treatment now.

“No! TRUTH! Letter, letters from him. Here, one I brought. Most recent. Signed and sealed! Look at the seal!” was all the Nuit could scream out in between puncture wounds, flailing inside his clothing for a scroll he all but threw at her.

She caught it, leaving her knife in his thigh momentarily as she did so, pulling it out eventually. She peered at the seal in the fading light.

That was when the true shocks of the fateful evening began.

by **Zandelia** on March 7th, 2012, 5:55 pm

Her father’s dagger slipped from her hand and fell into the waters beneath her feet, the scroll almost following it, to be destroyed forever, before her hands lashed out to snatch the rolled sheaf of paper from the air, crumpling it slightly between her fingers in her desperation to save its descent. She could not believe her eye, her mind filled with the knowledge that only three people had known the crest she was being shown in great detail. It could not be forged easily, blemishes and irregularities built into the design in order the trick the unwary. A portion of wax missing here, a clipped piece there, the curls of the quill upon it done individually, so as to create a pattern only Sansom family members would recognize – and she was the last surviving. However, the seal seemed to indicate otherwise. It showed a quill dripping with ink, crossed with a dagger and emblazoned upon an open book. The Sansom family motif – self-created of course.

Father… was all she could lodge into her skull as her shaking fingers pulled open the paper, almost reverentially.

Within was inscribed the familiar scrawling she has come t know and love, hours of practice with his steady hand to guide her as they flicked ink at each other in between serious workings. She could almost feel the brush of their callouses upon the back of her hand, so gentle and soft, yet strong and safe also. Those warm, touching memories were put to the test…and then through the wringer completely. As she read them each word stabbed out at her, piercing her heart and soul as they entered her eyes, searching within her body as if they were entities in and of themselves, searching to rip her apart from the insides. Someone had once said, somewhere in the universe, that words held power beyond knowing. It was only now that she grasped the full meaning as her world became unhinged, her life exposed as a lie and her past became nothing more than a sordid double-cross. She fought back tears as she read, even her destroyed eye in its socket attempting to weep but only coming up with a trickle of blood that ran down her cheek.

Dearest Garret,

I have had some small success within the city now. Merchants have been profitable this season, bringing in stores worthy of the gods themselves. Akajia has blessed me with vision and clarity and I shall strike out upon it. Housing remains mediocre at best, though plans for the cell to steak into an upper class town house are coming to fruition. The next letter you get from me should be from quality stock rather than poorer fair!

I trust that my investment of blood will pay large dividends in the end and that you will watch over the charge, making sure all goes well. I do not expect creditors to appear at my door due to your failures. You have been warned the price of failure.

As always find enclosed the bargained sum for your services. Should you manage to get those gutter rats organized then tell me and we shall make sure solid connections are made. Until then keep yourself alive and well, you are no use to me dead. I never imagined I would have to say that, but the slavers are more un-predictable than usual. Let us hope they do not force our hands.

You know where to find the safe place if necessary. Guard it wisely

Markus Sansom

Zandelia all but crushed the letter in her hands, her face turning skywards as she sought for balance but felt her knees give way. She slammed shoulder first into the wall she had used upon Garret and slid downwards until she was squatting, her back against the wall and tears streaking down her face, this time into her hands. Salt and blood pooled there for a number of minutes as in the background she heard the Nuit shift himself about, finally gaining his feet, picking her discarded dagger from its grimy pool of sewer water. Her life lay in tatters, her beliefs sundered and thrown away like so much refuse. She was nothing more than a used piece of flesh now, her body forfeit to so many for no good reason. Her mind, broken before, now teetered upon the brink for a long while before it slowly came back to her – piece by disgusted piece.

“There is no justice….” she mumbled o herself through her streaming nose as she wiped her face roughly upon the arm of her robes.

“No, there isn’t. There’s just you” Garret told her with his characteristic throat rattle voice.

“I saw him die, killed by a sword…”

“A trick of placement, and some red paint. You were young, you could not know”

“You took me to his GRAVE!”

“I took you to a grave. I disobeyed orders. I wasn’t about to tell you everything before you were old enough to understand, and act wisely. You needed closure and purpose to be effective”

“What you gave me was a lie”

“You of all people should know lies can prove more effective than truth. You would have gained nothing from truth then, now you can”

Zandelia laughed then, a manic and disturbing sound as she half-sat in the mud and her sanity was reshaped, bit by begrudging bit, her world terraforming around her and being stripped of its niceties – its color. It lasted a long time as garret merely hunched against the wall, wobbling slightly from the injuries she had too hastily inflicted upon him, now told to her to be for naught. She felt shame for them now, terrible shame. She had branded Garret as an abuser, a puppet master attached to her strings. In reality, however, the dead corpse in front of her had been more father than her blood one had been to her, even though he could never truly experience emotions in a human manner.

It’s just one big bloody joke she smiled to herself as her gaze locked with the Nuit’s and saw that he was giving his grimace smile too. He knew what was going through her mind now.

Revenge.

by **Zandelia** on March 7th, 2012, 7:22 pm

Zandelia slowly felt strength return to her limbs, blood and warmth flooding her system and the chill she felt across her body slowly easing but, she suspected, never to disappear entirely until events had passed their allotted course. Still, shaky though she still was, she was able to push herself up against the wall, robes catching here and there upon the surface as her feet slipped in the mulch beneath her soles a few times – before finally righting themselves and a standing lean upon the wall was attained. She cackled triumphantly as Garret nodded slowly, relief evident upon his rotting countenance, and held out the dagger of her blood father for her to take back. Zandelia looked at it for some time before accepting it back, truly wondering whether it would not be better to just throw it away.

No, it will be used again. But only for him, only to make the lifeblood of my mother’s killer flow from his fetid veins she thought to herself as she slipped it back into its sheath, far more roughly than she would have done before the events of the last eternity.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that? I mean it, a real petching bastard” she managed to whisper, her voice still cracking in the cold evening air.

“I know,” Garret responded simply, “I know. But I could have been nothing else. I hope you realize that now”

“Still, my point is more than valid,” Zandelia riposted, “so, do you know where Markus is?” she asked, symbolically using his name rather than the forsaken title now. She was filled with as little hope as ever as her suspicions were realized by Garret’s tired shake of the head.

“No, I haven’t been sure for years now. The last letter I received was his anger at you breaking free and the order to kill you once and for all. I admit, I almost did it in the end. The rest, as they say, is history,” Garret revealed to her for the first time that snippet of information, “and when I took you in I had to go underground. No letters, no communications” he finished tersely.

“So, two rebels, little to no hope of finding the head of the snake and nowhere to start from. Our chances seem remote at best” Zandelia returned, seeking out any further knowledge the Nuit might have behind a guise of forlorn resignation.

“Not quite. You have his book, the one I hid away for you to find. There were several copies made. Within is contained a cipher we could use to decode the hidden message within. Might lead us somewhere”

“Do you know the cipher?”

“No, I was hoping he might have told you”

“No cipher decoder then. Well, at least it’s a place to start. Do you know this safe place?”

“Yes”

“Is I safe?”

“No”

“Guards?”

“Many”

“Well, that’s where to start then. If it’s worth guarding it has something there they don’t want others to have. Might be it holds the key” Zandelia sighed, her head tilting back to rest upon the wall as she un-crumpled the letter in her hand’s and slipped it inside her robes.

She did not trust Garret, not by a very long mile. She knew he was as manipulating and scheming as ever. For all she knew it was all one of his tricks to get her within his employ nice again, doing his dirty work for him. Still, she could not let such an opportunity pass her by, in case it proved to be true. She could kill the despicable Nuit where he stood now, ending the trail and putting her in an awkward position. At least whilst he was alive and she was wary she could seek to benefit from their partnership once again, as in the days of her youth, before he had turned to violence to keep control of her willfulness. She was trapped, trapped by words and within a web of darkness she would have to literally feel her way out of.

So, business as usual then. Except, this time, I have a direction to follow, a scent upon the dank breeze. Let us see where it leads… she thought as she pushed herself from the wall finally.

“Very well, show me this ‘safe place’ then. Best to get a look at it now than later. Quickest to move is quickest to survive” she told Garret.

It was a trudging, slow and injured walk that the duo set off upon. Neither of them knew how the pat would end, just that they were inexorably drawn to its ending.

Moths to the flame.

by **Archelon** on March 24th, 2012, 3:14 pm

Epilogue:

As the two injured limped away a small dust devil rose in the streets nearby. Bits of leaves and scraps of cloth fluttered about as they were pushed aside in rage as an efforvescent mist clouded after.

From nowhere in the midst of this creation a voice whispered, "Marryyy! Marryyy! I saw you once again! Soon... Sooon you'll be mine! Soon I'll have the strength that I won't lose you again!"

And then, just as suddenly as it came, it stopped, though for a second or two if anyone could notice the wisps of trash and currents of the air for the next twenty feet would vaguely be pushed away as if something would be following after. Luckily for the injured pair however, they seemed to lose whatever it is as they turned a corner, them going one way. The strange mist going the other... but whether it would find them again in the future would remain to be seen.

Thread Award

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And the Results!!!!:

Zandelia :

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