Magpie

The eternal night has lasted a year too long by now, but no one seems to be doing a thing about it. Not that there's much that any normal human being could do to bring back the sun.

He was disorientated. The faintest taste of dirt stained his mouth, overpowered only by the taste of pine needles, with gritty residue grinding slightly against his teeth as he ran his tongue along them. That was when he finally realised he was face down on the ground. So he groaned, and tried to lift himself up to look around.

“…What the…?” His hands failed to respond. Or, at least, they couldn’t do what he wanted them to do. Fixed firmly to each other behind his back, it seemed he wouldn’t be moving them any time soon, and was forced to manoeuvre himself into a more upright position by squirming his shoulders. Being tied up, this was awkward, uncomfortable, and even a little painful. “Damn it…”

There was a fire crackling nearby, one half of his body already hot from lying close to the flames, and after facing away from it for however long he was out it seared his eyes when he looked anywhere near it. He tried in vain to look around his immediate surroundings, spitting what was left of the dirt and pine needles from his mouth in disgust as he finally focused a little on the trees looming overhead, which were still in the late night air and obscuring the starry sky beyond. Righting himself a little more he finally managed to sit cross-legged instead, and tried twisting his hands free of the rope that kept him trapped.

“You’ll just hurt yourself again.” His gaze darted to the source of a voice from across the fire, and through narrowed eyes he managed to focus on the person sitting on the other side. What caught his attention was a shock of purple hair, just sticking out from beneath the hem of a hood pulled low over this person’s face.

Thinking back as far as he could before he’d managed to fall unconscious, he tried to remember how it had happened in the first place… He’d been running, that was for sure. But where was his bag? He looked around again.

“Alright, then…” he mumbled, before turning his attention to his captor once more. “Who are you?”

The purple haired figure replied with silence. The young man sighed, giving his ropes another small tug.

“Okay, so you don’t feel like indulging that little piece of information. Could you tell me why you tied me up?” Again, silence. He huffed in agitation, slouching as he glared at the figure across the flames. “Could you at least tell me where my bag is? It’s very important.” This time he did receive a reaction, and though it was still non-verbal, his gloved hand gestured to his right and pointed to his bag sat with another in the bright glow of the flames. “Oh.”

The quiet figure across the way from him went back to what was laid out in front of him: a small map, weighed down on the top left corner by a small compass. The man himself was dressed in a dark brown overcoat made of suede, clearly old and slightly worn by the bald patches along the arms and sides. From what he could see of his front he had a navy jumper on underneath, the collar of a dark yellow shirt poking out near the top of the low cut collar, whilst a red sash was wrapped around his waist and a purple one across his chest. With his face obscured by flickering shadows it was difficult to make out any details, except for a small number of long and thin plaits hanging down from either side of his cheeks, decorated with coloured beads and trinkets that occasionally glistened in the fire light. He seemed to be very pale, but the light made it very hard to make out his skin tone, especially when the light source was what was obscuring it in the first place.

With his wits now fully about him he decided to give up on the rope, knowing by now that the only way he could possibly get them off any time soon was by asking this guy nicely. Or by bribery. Whichever worked faster.

“…My name’s James, by the way. James Edwards.”

“…” He narrowed his eyes in agitation.

“If you’re going to keep me tied up, you could at least talk back. It’s just manners to-” 

“I don’t see why a thief is trying to preach manners to anyone,” the man cut across, his voice quiet and very smooth as he did so.

“At least I had the decency to ask your name. And when I didn’t get an answer, I introduced myself. It’s common courtesy, and it’s only polite you give your name back, no matter if you’re addressed by a common thief or the High King himself.” ‘Preaching manners’ indeed. At least he knew them.

But like before, the silence settled like a thick mist once again. Brow furrowing in agitation James heaved a grumpy sigh, and twisted his hands again in another vain attempt and removing the rope.

“…I had to pick today to go to Drosfelin. What a great idea that was…!” he grunted, before eventually giving up for the third time and looking back at the purple haired man in contemplation. “…Are you headed for Drosfelin?” His head rose a fraction of an inch, and with an almost innocent smile James got onto his knees instead. “If you just go-” 

“Stay where you are for now.” It was the third time this man had spoken, but this made no difference. James stared at him for a moment in silence, the mere tone of his voice stunning him slightly and eventually making him sit down again. There was a certain quality to it: the smooth, silky voice had a certain power behind it, stern without seeming sharp or harsh at all. And it made James stop. That in itself was what had stunned him the most.

“Um, alright…”

That silence was very persistent. Like a bad smell it was back again, but James was determined to beat it.

“…I was just going to point out a stream on the map. It’s easy to climb up through the mountains, and it’s pretty much the same down the other side. It’s secluded, if that’s what you’re going for.” Like before, this seemed to get the mysterious man’s attention, and this time James even caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath the messy fringe, a red eyebrow ring glinting a little in the firelight. “I don’t think anybody else uses it. The only footprints I see are mine.”

“And why should I trust a thief?” was the quiet reply. The young man’s lips curled into a small smile.

“Because I get the feeling you want to stay just as out of sight as I do, and what better way to do it?” he said, before doing his best to get to his feet without falling over. “I just need to get my bearings. How far are we from the main road?”

Being in the middle of a dark forest wasn’t the best way to find out where the hell you were. After looking around the small circle of light for the fifth time James sighed, and squinted at the fire in a disgruntled fashion.

“It’s going to take forever to get used to the dark…” he muttered, before looking at the hooded man. “Are you just going to sit there or what? The longer we keep the fire going, the faster we’re going to be caught by guards or soldiers-”

“I don’t see why you keep saying ‘we’. You still haven’t given me a reason to even trust you in the slightest.”

“I’m showing you the path, aren’t I? I could’ve just sat here, nagging and whining and threatening you to untie me, but I’m actually giving you information. Willingly. Just so that I - and even you - can get going again. The guys after me are trying very hard, and I’d really like to not get caught today.”

Going to the two bags he knelt down to pick up the one that belonged to him, his back to them to grab it with his limited reach. “Damn it…!” The man in the dark suede coat watched him, shaking his head softly at James’ unfettered tenacity. This was quickly noticed by the young man, who narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

“It’s a little difficult to believe that you’re going to show me the way for nothing in return.”

“I never said nothing. I only said that I was giving you the information. But now that you’ve brought up the term and conditions, I am going to ask for only one thing back.”

“And what’s that?” His tone seemed a little incredulous, though oddly amused as well. When this mature voice almost chuckled James couldn’t help but keep on smiling, hoping that this person would actually agree. It’d been a while since he’d had a conversation with more than three sentences.

“Watch my back. If we get attacked, we’re going to have to fight if we don’t want to get caught. Got it?”

Folding up his map the mysterious man rose to his feet, easily towering about two or three inches over James and causing the young man to look up slightly at him. He nodded.

“Alright! It’ll take at least an hour to get out of this forest, and then about forty minutes to the top of the cliffs, but first we need to find out where we are.” He looked around, the canopy of the trees around them already etched into his memory after constantly peering up at them, but just like before this did not help at all. “Hm…”

The rustling of paper came to his ears, and with eyebrows raised he was soon looking down at a battered looking map of the general area. A gloved finger pointed out a small peninsula of rocks a short distance from a ring of mountains.

“That’s just a few minutes south of here, so we should be around here.”

“Where’s your compass?” The small glass circle was brought into view again, and after a moment of studying the map James turned a little more to their right. “It’s over this way. Probably a ten minute walk…” he mumbled thoughtfully, before looking at the man again with a slight grimace. “You’re not going to untie me, are you?”

“Nope,” came the cool reply, another small smile just visible in the shadow of his hood, the fire behind him almost obscuring all details completely. James managed a wry smile back.

“Could you at least tell me your name? If we’re going to be walking together for the next two hours I’d like to know what the hell to call you.”

“Aimeion.”

“’Aimeion’? Very exotic.”

Once the fire was out they slowly started through the forest spread out around them, their pace sluggish to begin with to avoid walking into trees. Whenever he stumbled, James was lucky if he didn’t land headfirst on the ground again, but much to his relief Aimeion was behind him and was very quick to grab his bound hands and yank him back onto his feet. He wasn’t a very talkative captor: most people would be bragging about having caught a thief, or even anyone carrying what he had in his bag right now. But hardly any words passed his mouth, which was a little unsettling at times when all they could hear was the sound of their footfalls, and anything that moved out in the trees. Despite this, James did his best to take his mind off the things he could hear without talking.

The mountains they were scaling surrounded the castle town of Drosfelin, which was actually a very big town nestled in a wide valley. Nestled at one end was the small civilisation, a large horseshoe lake surrounding the main castle like a glowing ring on moonlit nights, with the turrets reaching up to the heavens from the central island. And since the past year had been spent in endless night, it was a breathtaking sight to behold in black, blue and silver. The town was often alive with its inhabitants milling around, an old-style indoor market set up to the west of the square to house the farmers and other travelling merchants, the hostels to the south to house them during their stay. The whole of the east side was occupied by the people who lived there all year round, the occasional privately-owned shop cropping up amongst the houses, more-so the closer to the central square you went.

To the north, just before the road to the castle, the aristocracy lived. The houses were larger and the streets were wider, and often had those who lived there walking along to a scenic park along the edge of the lake. Many small stalls were dotted around street corners set up by people from the east side of town, selling a variety of things from fruit and vegetables to handmade jewellery and accessories. One such stall, James recalled with a smile, sold some of the best handmade scarves and gloves he’d ever had the pleasure of owning. He hadn’t stolen from the cart itself, but one person he’d mugged had just bought some from there.

The roads were paved with wide grey slabs, the pavements set up with a checkerboard pattern with grey and purple-stained stones winding between the houses and stalls. The market itself was made up solely of this flooring, but the cracks were abound and almost everywhere you looked. It was one of James’ favourite places: tall buildings, busy market, bustling crowds. It was a thief’s paradise.

They’d been following the small stream for a good hour when Aimeion tugged him to a halt, though the gesture wasn’t necessary as James stopped all the same. They were close to the top by now, the pine trees thinning out and revealing the starry sky overhead, but just as they were about to step out into the moonlight a scuffling noise caught their attention. Like statues they stared out across the rocky hill before them, listening intently for anything else, any clue that would help them pinpoint where it had come from…

“I thought you said there’d be nobody up here…” Brow furrowing when Aimeion mumbled this, James’ gaze scoured the crest of the cliff.

“There shouldn’t be…” he seethed, before looking to their left. Stepping back, he nudged the hooded man behind a nearby tree before ducking behind it himself. “S**t…!”

Two men had walked from the trees, wielding a dagger and a broadsword and laden with the pelts of wild animals, and just generally looking rather fierce. One was taller than the other, the big man of the duo, whilst the other was a thin weedy looking fellow with a matching moustache on his upper lip. Both were walking up towards the crest of the hill, muttering to each other in fevered voices.

“Who the hell are they…?” James muttered. He didn’t recognise either of them, especially since they looked more like people wanted by the Royal Guard rather than a part of them. At his side Aimeion had fallen silent, merely watching as they climbed up over the lower crest… 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our little friend.”

Hoisted off the ground by the backs of their coats both young men were thrown out of the protective shadows of the forest, cut up badly by the rugged rock face of the cliff as they were illuminated by the full moon up above.

“Bloody hell…!” James groaned, the stinging sensation down his cheek definitely a bad sign as it seared with pain the moment his features twisted into a wince. He turned onto his back, and looked up at an even burlier looking man than the one he’d seen before, who was grinning as he looked down at Aimeion alongside James. He turned his attention to his companions, gesturing to James as he did so.

“This one’s already tied up for us! That saves up some rope!” he jeered, and all of a sudden five armed men were stood around them. But that wasn’t what James was focused on at the moment.

A long, glistening tail covered in the palest of sky blue scales was curled around from behind Aimeion, two semi-transparent fins at the end glistening like the inside of a mother-of-pearl shell in the light from above. From the right fin a large circular chunk had been cut out of the edge, looking a little frayed as it almost joined again along the outer line of the shape. James stared, before looking up at one of the men as he leant over Aimeion and grabbed him by the arm, which had been against his cheek to check for any injuries. Yanked to his feet the hood that had been obscuring his face was pulled down, revealing a dark glare from Aimeion as the gang chuckled darkly.

“Hello fish boy.”

The same pearl-esque scales covered his face, turning to the pale blue colour under the shadow of his hair as he hung his head slightly, vivid green eyes turning to the ground as these ugly men stared at him like the catch of the day. His long aquamarine hair hung down in a plait just between his shoulder blades (after he’d pulled it out of his hood), with two sections pulled out of the way by two simple red bands just above his shoulders. What James had seen before of his hair was the unkempt fringe at the front, a red bandanna across his forehead just visible underneath whilst another was across the top of his head. From his ear hung a hook ornament carved out of coral, more for display than for any practical use, along with another simple stud in his ear lobe and a selection of different rings down the other. Like all the others of his kind his nose was more of a slight curve, better for swimming, whilst his brows ended with four small dots along with the red ring on the left.

Blowing his light brown hair from his eyes James stared up at him.

“You’re… an Aquan?” he mumbled, before being pulled to his feet with just as much care as Aimeion. “Ow-hey, watch it!”

“Tie up the fish,” said the man who’d initially thrown them out into the moonlight, before turning James around to face him with a sharp pull on his shoulder. He looked him up and down with an eyebrow quirked, whilst the weedy man snatched the bag out of the thief’s bound hands.

“Hey, that’s mine-”

“Shut your face, brat!” the big man barked, wielding a hatchet in his hand. He was a skinhead, the moon reflecting slightly from his chrome dome as his bearded features continued to stare down James.

“Captain! Take a look at these!”

When the weedy man and one of his companions, a rather young man with a rapier at his hip, gasped for his attention the bearded man looked towards them, and James watched his eyes widen as a variety of colours shimmered across his face.

“There must be hundreds of pounds worth in here… What?” After pulling out handfuls of small gems the weedy man reached in once again, and soon drew a crown into sight. “Isn’t this-”

“The Crown of King Patrick, lord of Ceiallon across the water. Well, the decoy anyway. I liked it: it was shiny--” James explained with a grin, but his amusement was cut short when the burly axe man grabbed him by the collar and lifted him from the ground.

“I thought I recognised you: you’re the Magpie,” he snarled into the young man’s face, before smirking as he took the crown from his subordinate. “There are posters of you in every town for miles, but no one’s caught you yet.”

He placed the crown on his sleek dome, and smirked down at James once again. “Until now.”

“What makes you think you think you’ve ‘caught’ me?” the dirty-blonde haired boy wheezed, still hanging from this man’s knuckles. The man’s brow knitted in anger.

“I wouldn’t get cocky, you little punk. I bet a broken arm would keep you quiet ‘till we got to Drosfelin.” The men chuckled in that sinister way again, and out of the corner of his eye James could see that Aimeion had now been tied up in much the same way as himself, and was watching him with his brow furrowed in concern. James smirked.

“That depends on if you can really catch me.”

A look of bemusement passed over the axe captain’s face, before James swung his legs up and around his outstretched arm, slamming his heel hard against the side of his head.  He stumbled back, dropping James in the process as he knocked into the weedy man holding his bag, whilst the young man himself fell to the floor. He landed on his feet, and after thrusting his elbow into the rapier-wielding man’s nose he hopped up and quickly brought his bound hands before him, kicking the same man in the chest soon afterwards and forcing him to the floor. He turned to help Aimeion, but found that he’d already broken his bonds and was tripping the two that had been holding him by sweeping his leg across the ground around their ankles.

“Hey-” James started, holding up his bound hands, before quickly ducking as the weedy moustachioed man lunged at him with his dagger drawn. Digging his elbow into his stomach he swung his balled hands up into his quickly approaching face, sending him hurtling to the floor just like his comrades, before turning to Aimeion once again and showing the rope around his wrists again. “Seriously, this is really hard!”

A shadow loomed over him, and before he could react his hands were grabbed and he was lifted off the ground once again.

“You little prick! I’m going to tear you limb from limb!” He recognised the Captain’s voice, and started to squirm in his hold. Since he was facing the wrong way his old tactic was useless, but none the less he curled up to try and pull his hands free, using his feet to push against the large man’s hands.

“Damn it…!” The men with the dagger and the rapier were back on their feet as well, and advancing on him with their weapons drawn as they nursed their bleeding noses. “Damn it!”

“’Magpie’ indeed…!” sneered the moustache man, before each one froze in their tracks as a blood-curdling yell filled their ears. James fell to the ground, landing on his back with a loud crack and an enormous stabbing pain, but it was barely audible over the Captain’s scream.

He was clutching the side of his head, the blood already pouring between his fingers and raining down on James, and as he quickly rolled out of the way he soon came across something pink and red on the rocks…

“…Oh, that’s just gross!” he whined, staring at the ear in its small pool of blood, before looking back up at the Captain once again. What on earth could’ve cut off an ear from any kind of distance without someone noticing?

There was a hand beneath his arm, and he was soon looking at Aimeion as he helped him to his feet. Heart racing, he ignored the twinge down his side as the Aquan ran his hands down the centre of the ropes around his wrist, which suddenly fell apart like they’d been sliced right down the middle.

“Stop him! He’s using those blades!” roared the axe man, pointing at Aimeion with his face contorted by rage. Barely pausing to check his newly freed wrists James lunged towards the youngest member of the group, wrenching the rapier from his hand before turning on the others, giving the blade a quick test swipe.

“Right, now I think you’ve held us up for long enough,” he said, quickly blocking an attack from the man with the broadsword by stepping to one side, and eventually disarming him with a swipe to his hands. He picked up his bag. “If you don’t mind, we’ll be leaving now.”

The axe man did his best to lift his hatchet, but having already lost a lot of blood from the side of his head he could barely throw it more than a yard, which James watched blankly as it clattered at his feet.

“Alright… Well then, we’ll leave you to your… uh, yeah. Farewell,” he said, picking up the crown that had fallen to the floor a while ago and placing it on his own head. “And don’t touch my stuff again.” He turned to Aimeion to see if he needed any help, but found he’d already dealt with the last two and was pulling his hood up again, continuing up alongside the stream as it trickled from a pond a little further up. Stunned by his prowess, he decided not to question it as he jogged up alongside him, sliding the rapier through one of his belt loops for safekeeping.

Author's Note

What do you think? The only people I've ever had read this stuff are close friends, and anyone who kept up with me on Livejournal. Please, criticism is welcome: I want to know how I can improve (I have to admit, the creepy gang at the top of the mountain is a little cliche, but I needed conflict) so anything will probably be helpful!

Reviews

[_]

“Who the hell are they…?” James muttered. He didn’t recognise either of them, especially since they looked more like people wanted by the Royal Guard rather than a part of them. At his side Aimeion had fallen silent, merely watching as they climbed up over the lower crest…

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our little friend.”

ME: RUN FORREST RUN! I mean- RUN JAMES!

anyway this was really good you had some error with your grammar but overall you story was WICKED! i enjoyed it very much indeed!