The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon came to attention as she came below. He'd slept on the bench the spanned the port side of the cabin, close to where she'd left the sword. He pushed up on one arm and observed her. The previous night, when she'd grown upset and fled to the bow, he'd almost followed after her. Almost. What business was it of his if she grew upset? He'd told himself he could do little for her and taken to the cabin, thinking he might ask her more about it when she'd calmed down and returned for bed. In the end, she'd never come, and he had fallen asleep waiting.

The sounds of ships creaking at dock nearby caught his attention, rousing him further. The air smelled different. He shot upright without a word and went to her side. Then he remembered the draught she'd taken at dinner the night before, and her strange reaction to it. If they made landfall, they might need to be at their best. "Are you well?" he asked her quietly.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara nodded, taking the sword in one hand. She met his gaze. “I’m fine…” He’d only understood half the conversation, she realized. It must have seemed odd for her to disappear or be so upset, and still he’d given her space. She opened her mouth to come up with some excuse but weariness poured out. “I want to be home,”she said. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want to be home.”

But there was no fast way of getting home. Not even her teleporting father could port her across the sea.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon squeezed the book he'd grown accustomed to carrying around. If all she'd told him was true, she had been kidnapped and passed around for weeks now without much control over her fate. Though he did not particularly care for his own home, even he could grasp the frustration she must be feeling. He stopped his thoughts there before he could think further upon it. It would do no good to think of that place, or his sister, or of the boy.

He tried to imagine what this woman's home might be like, for her to miss it so. Perhaps she held great power there. The idea didn't please him. It was easy enough for women to be endearing when it pleased them. If he weren't as experienced as he was, even he would be tempted by the male instinct to cherish the small and seemingly delicate woman at his side. "I see. Let's go home, then," he offered brusquely.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara heard the tone in his voice and clawed her emotions back in, locking them in until they became a heavy weight in her chest. She was used to being surrounded by people who cared, used to having someone to confide in and a shoulder to cry on. She was used to feeling safe, because with parents like hers, she never worried about danger—and she should have.

Thvoros was not her friend. They had formed a truce and he needed her to be strong enough to carry his sword around and make him whole, and that was all that mattered to him. And that was okay. That was all that should matter to him.

She was desperate for something to cling to in the sea of misery and fear that had become her life, and she was trying to cling to Thvoros… It wasn’t right. She needed to manage this on her own. She needed to be stronger.

Tenara took a deep breath and went to the bedroom, stripping the sheets and tearing them. She wrapped them around the sword, forming a makeshift sheath for it, and braided torn strips quickly to form something to carry it with. People would not take kindly to someone wielding an open sword for no reason.

“Come on,” Elias called. “We’re docking.”

Tenara draped the sword along her back. “Is there a place on your world that is feared and dangerous—someplace you would never want to be?” she asked Thvoros.

[Soran Nightblade]

His tall form easily followed her as she prepared to make landfall. "My clan's keep," he said without thinking. He picked up the book, considering it. He wanted to bring it with them, but would it make him stick out too much? "Will you..."

The ship creaked as it gently struck the docks. He abandoned the question he was about to ask. He was not really about to implore a woman to carry something for him. He shook his head. He shouldn't even be trusting her, let alone depending on her.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara turned on him. She glanced at the book he was holding and then looked around. She found a messenger bag tucked in the bottom of the sorcerer’s closet and draped it over her shoulder. “I should probably carry that,” she said, holding out her hands. “This place is strange, but I doubt it’s enough to ignore a floating book.”

[Soran Nightblade]

He wasn't sure if he felt grateful or annoyed that she'd offered to help, but he held out the book to her. As her hand closed on it, he held it back a moment, each holding an end. "We're here now. It's time to leave that man and find our own way. Do we really still need him?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara blinked. "I don't know," she said. "He did promise to help us get to Hajara..." She glanced up, as if she could see Elias through the deck. "I don't know if he will let you go..." she whispered it. "He wants a weapon to end his mother, and he thinks that weapon is you. I don't think he will let us go, even if we want to part ways with him."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon looked at her quietly. For the first time, he was seeing her as a lost girl with no one to trust. He'd been so busy gauging her as a threat and suspecting everything about this world that he hadn't even really stopped to perceive her as a person. She was surrounded by only bad options, and she had no idea what she was doing. Their chances of survival would increase if he contributed too.

He monitored the watchful gazes that followed them as they followed Elias onto the docks. He was familiar with this sort of place, where everyone was suspicious all the time. It gave him a bit of a feel for the vibe of this place, even if he didn't understand the politics. Luckily, none of the gazes seemed to settle on Tenara too long.

"If he thinks I'm a weapon, that's good leverage." He was used to being treated as a weapon; it was a role he could play well. Of course, he didn't say what he was starting to suspect; that he might literally be a weapon. "How well can you use that?" he asked her quietly, nodding to the sword as they followed Elias toward the dockyards.

[Emora Deen]

“I’ve had lessons. I’ve used a sword in sparring, but… I haven’t been in a real sword fight where my opponent wasn’t someone who cared about me…” She tried to keep her voice low, hating admitting such a thing where Elias might hear.

The crowd was dense the closer they got to where the dock met the city streets. Normally crowds didn't bother Tenara... but that was in a city she knew. Here the faces were dirty and grim. Crates, cages, and other forms of shipment littered the area, and so they had to weave their way through the crowd and the cargo towards a stone street leading into the city. Tenara tried not to jump every time something rounded a corner too fast. Her boots nearly clipped Elias's heels as they went, and she forced the urge to grab hold of his coat to keep from getting lost in the crowd from her mind. She would have thought of grabbing hold of Thvoros, but she couldn't touch him.

Tenara eyed the semi-translucent being walking next to her. No one looked at him. No one paid him any mind because she was the only one who could see him. What did that mean?

There were monsters here. Real monsters. She'd seen her share of them but here they were the kind she had only read about in books. The kind that didn't like sunlight or who would find it hard to live in Hajara where the sands were hot and the days were long. There was a man with the head of a bull, who stood over seven feet tall and arms as large as logs. He growled and snorted and stomped past them. She saw a woman with the body of a snake, and the lady slithered past with a soft hiss as she went. Tenara's eyes followed her, curiously watching the way her tail rattled as she went. They were alien looking to her, but still not as alien looking as Thvoros. She'd never seen horns on a man like he had, and his eyes... They were terrifying and beautiful. He was terrifying and beautiful...

Her gaze drifted to the posts driven into the ground along the path. She thought, for a moment, it was a lamppost draped in garland, but then she realized it was a body. The crucified skeletal remains of someone strung up beneath the oil lamp like an ornament. Not all of them were so far gone. Some were freshly dead, and she wondered if they changed them out like decorations. Was this punishment or design?

Tenara paused for a second to scrutinize one particularly malnourished form strung up near her and the woman's eyes opened. She gasped, dry lips parting with silent words.

Elias hooked a hand around her arm. "Come."

"She's alive," Tenara said. "You have to help her."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon was walking around the dying figure when Tenara's protests made him hesitate. She was pleading to Elias for help for that stranger? Where such a childish impulse had come from, he couldn't even guess. "Do you know that woman?" he asked her, confused.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head, frustration creasing her brow. "No, I don't know her! It shouldn't matter if I know her. She needs help."

“Stop talking to someone no one can see.” Elias looked up at the dying woman, his hand tightening on her arm as he dragged her down the street. "We can't save her."

Tenara thrashed, trying to pull out of his grip. She didn't like his hand so tight around her, the trapped feeling spreading through her chest. Her hood slipped from her head, silver hair glinting in the misty morning light. "Cut her down! She's alive. You can't just leave her like that."

He snarled and snatched the fabric back up, hiding her away from the onlookers. "I can. I will. It's not our concern."

"It's your fucking kingdom! You make the law—"

"Do you want to save her, or do you want to go home?" he asked, dragging her into an alley. He wrestled her up against the wall, looking around him as if he were ensuring no one had spotted them. He leaned closer, looking back the other way. She felt the rough edges of the sword hilt digging into her back. "I will tell you now to push down whatever moral code drives you because it will be your doom in this place. Do you understand?"

She clenched her jaw, disliking the closeness and the truth in his words. The woman was likely going to die either way, whether they got her down or not. But the sight of her trapped like that, as Tenara had been against the sacrificial stone, had been jarring.

"I'm serious. You need to decide, here and now, what you want more. Live or die?"

"Live," Tenara seethed. "I want to live."

"Then, do what it takes to live. And stop talking to your ghost… in public.” She could see his rage now for what it truly was. Fear. He was afraid they’d get caught, of his mother and what she would do. He released her, and she felt the ache of his grip to her bones.

“I’ll talk to him as I please.” She cared not if Arkens thought her mad.

His glare turned murderous, but he scoffed and took her by the arm again and led her onto the street. Thvoros was right. It was time to bid farewell to the prince.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi followed close on Tenara's heels, his dangerous gaze following every twitch of the highborn's body as he moved. The language barrier was really getting to him, but he could more or less gather what they'd fought about. "He better be taking us to a bigger ship," he murmured, looking around at the large vessels gathered in the harbor. It was frustrating to be unable to do anything. Like he was just along for the ride. Although last night, he... He looked over his shoulder at the dying woman shrinking behind them. A very odd thought came to him. Was it only Tenara, or could he possess any unconscious person? If he could, that might prove useful. "Keep going... I'm taking a small detour to try something. Don't watch; he'll notice."

He crossed the street to where a drunk was lying fully asleep, slumped over on the side of the road. The man was sporting a decent sunburn and it appeared his pockets had been picked over several times while he slumbered. Havi knelt slowly next to him as he looked over his shoulder. Tenara was already nearly out of sight. He had no time. He could feel pedestrians phasing through him, and the sensation was unnerving. At least it meant they definitely couldn't see him. He reached slowly for the man's shoulder, and tried to grasp it. His hand just passed through. "Come on," he muttered, trying again. He tried to remember what it had felt like that night when the connection formed with the girl. Like white lightning down the back of his skull. He dug up the memory and focused.

Purple sparks started up around his hands, and the faintest blur of grayish light formed at the back of his senses. It was nothing like the brightness of Tenara's mind, but it was, he suspected, something similar. He concentrated on it as hard as he could, trying to open up that prick of light into a tunnel he could fit through. "I'm just....borrowing it," he grunted, as if he could reason with the unconscious man's neurology.

"Dunno, I just heard the whole tavern practically shat themselves."
"Seriously? How scary can one guy be?"
"I heard he treats her like a daughter. He's on a rampage."
"That makes no sense. Vampires might fuck, but you know damn well their fish don't swim."

A deep pulse of agony cut into his focus. That gray pinprick was widening into a tunnel, and it felt like it was trying to draw his mind in with a pair of meat hooks. He hissed and thrashed backwards, but it was like now that they'd formed the link, he couldn't move away. His muscles wouldn't listen to him. He could feel the bile of yesterday's cheap spirits in the back of his throat, the increasing need to urinate, the pounding of a hangover mixed with chills from the sunburn. He blinked through alien eyes and immediately twisted over, vomiting onto the cobblestones.

"Blech," said an unsympathetic voice from a few yards away. "Looks like Davie's up."

Havitharon curled over, his mind wrenching with pain. He could understand them. He'd formed the bond, but it was totally different. With Tenara, it was like she supplied the energy, and he merely had to guide it. The man he was possessing now was like a tenderizer pummeling him into unrecognizable bits. The pain was getting worse. He glanced down at his shaking fingers and wiggled them slowly. It was so hard to think. He could separate himself. He cried out in a stranger's voice and clasped his head.

Darkness was already creeping in around him, the violet sparks petering out as he disintegrated. And then, suddenly, he was gone.

He appeared in the middle of the road about a quarter mile away, right next to where Tenara and Elias were walking. Havitharon flickered into existence beside her, made a pained sound, and buckled to his knees. He clutched his head, wanting badly to vomit and unsure whether he even could. He looked around blearily, and the sword's bright hilt flashed in his narrow field of vision.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara stopped short, turning as Havitharon collapsed. "Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling next to him. She reached out to touch his shoulder and her hand passed through him. He looked awful.

"Tenara," Elias called, bending down to grab her.

"Give us a minute!" she snapped, shaking off his touch.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon's unsteady golden eyes met hers. His whole form was faded to near-invisibility. The sword... she'd gotten far enough away. "The tether," he slurred. She'd saved him. "If you'd stopped or slowed for even a second," he wondered dizzily. His vision faltered, and he shook his head to focus. "Shit."