[Skell]
Just throw him over the edge, I thought. Would it really be so wrong?
Now, I'd never send Niles soaring off a three-story guildhouse. But as he flailed in an attempt to excuse himself, I found the mental image soothing.
"-hey, hey, keep an open mind," he told me. And probably himself. "It's not like anyone saw me use magic!"
Below the slanted roof's edge, a pointing finger caught my eye. "Mommy," complained a boy tugged away by the wrist, "I wanna see if another funny man goes up!"
"Don't look!" his mom demanded. "Leave them to their nonsense."
They weren't the only onlookers. The street - adjacent to the buzzing market square - was far from empty. Our trail of chaos wasn't easy to miss. And from up there, I realized we held the kind of attention most vendors would kill to capture.
Exactly the kind of attention I hated.
Turning back to the swordsman, I struggled to keep my illusory tongue in check. Over his shoulder however, I spotted the man who really landed us in this mess: the pink-haired thief - climbing onto a raised section of the roof. He hadn't noticed our ascension.
"Forget it," I hurried past Niles, "he's making distance. We'll just have to hope we can shake off the attention from up here."
"Y-yeah, all right!" he followed.
A couple grunts later and we lifted ourselves to where we last spotted the thief. We caught him below, on the next building over, chasing his breath with his back turned. Shoulder-to-shoulder, we stood over him. Our combined shadow swallowed his and he shot back. "What!? H-how did you-"
He wouldn't finish speaking a second time. We jumped after him, but even short falls took time. Time the twitchy thief used to take flight.
Startled birds soared from their perch as we raced across the angled rooftops. Organized and close as Selem's buildings were, our route across the gaudy tiles ended up being more-or-less a straight shot. Barring the pitfalls.
A slight stumble from the thief ahead was my only warning to watch the ground. Slits between buildings were just wide enough to sink into and just deep enough to snap your legs. Selem clearly wasn't meant to be traversed via rooftop. I just hoped it wasn't illegal.
But in that moment, extraneous thoughts had to be shelved. Over small gaps we vaulted, boots thumping across ceilings. 'Till the next gap crept in the distance.
Triple the width of the others, I figured, maybe more. The thief wasn't discouraged. Across the gap laid a wooden beam, narrow but sturdy-looking. Assisted by his enchanted boots, the thief barely slowed as he balanced along it. In a breath he was past the threat - leaving us in the lurch.
Slowing to a stop, I masked the look of a man desperately building his courage. I stared at the beam. Will it fall? Probably not. Will I?
A blur rushed past me.
Niles.
Dark hair waved in the rushing air, arms spread like wings over the beam. A moment later he touched down on the other roof. Not exactly teeming with grace. But he pulled it off without hesitation.
Niles turned back and beckoned. "Come on!"
My gaze flicked to the beam. Odds were I could balance across safely… just in time to eat the thief's dust. Every moment was critical, and my things wouldn't wait on me. If I wanted them back…
I've gotta take a shortcut!
Shroud? Focused. Feet? Set. I took off for the divide.
It was before me in an illusory heartbeat. Right before the unforgiving plummet, I pushed off the ground.
Never have I been hit by a more immediate regret.
An eerie tranquility met me mid-air. Time stood near-still. Underfoot was a quiet alley, the few along it napping on benches or whistling as they leaned against walls. All had their attention off the skies. Except for a young woman.
Our eyes locked onto each other as I clamped teeth over a reflexive scream. The nonchalant woman - hair the orange of a wildfire - licked a cone of sorbet while watching me fly as well as an ostrich. She… smiled. Then looked back at her treat like I was nothing more than an amusing distraction.
Reality then reminded me why distractions could be fatal.
Boots crashed harshly into the building's corner. I stumbled. But not forwards.
My fingers grew a mind of their own and clawed for a handhold they knew didn't exist. Wind clutched my shoulders and dragged me back over the edge. The moment was raw, visceral terror.
Then it ended.
Niles grabbed my forearm as I leaned over the chasm, stopping my fall. With a heave, he twisted and threw me staggering onto solid ground.
I only had a second to stop and think before he blew by me again. Of course. The chase hadn't stopped.
"Th-thanks…" I shook off the shock and ran behind him.
He threw back a two-fingered, informal salute. "Can't just let you go splat on the cobbles! T'would be impolite!"
To my endless relief, no more gaps waited ahead - besides the shrinking one between us and the thief. We slipped around a smoking chimney, working to shave down the distance. For once, luck seemed to be on our side.
Selem's exterior wasn't the only place surrounded by high walls. The Gilded Marketplace - like every district, according to our map - was similarly enclosed. Jutting far above even the rooftops stood an impassable stone barrier a dozen buildings ahead.
Impassable… for us. The thief could scale it just fine; with those stupid boots it'd literally be as effortless as a walk in the park. We couldn't follow, either. Even ignoring its illegality, magic had limits: physical limits, in the case of Niles' Ivy Cling. It couldn't stretch forever. And that wall was anything but humble.
But then, the thief really didn't wanna do that. Unless he preferred the company of city guards to us. Like the outer wall, these definitely crawled with them. And not even the world's dumbest thief would run headfirst into the law wearing stolen spoils.
A sudden turn led the thief sliding down the tiles of a steep-angled roof. Speeding to the edge, he almost lost control. Once there however, he curved seamlessly over the corner and sprinted down the building side.
Abyss! Why couldn't he just fall flat on his face?
Our pace continued even as we neared where he dropped down, but on the way there, my mind ran faster. No way we'll get down to the street in time to keep up - unless we wanna continue the chase on a stretcher.
Niles and I set foot on the building just as the thief left it, watching him curve back onto the street below.
"This again!?" the swordsman jerked an annoyed fist. "How are we following sticky fingers now?"
"I… have a way," my darting gaze finally landing onto something I almost wished wasn't there.
Silently I pointed to the left. Not far up the road was a wide cart, pulled along by a woman on horseback. The cargo? A thick bed of hay nearly as tall as us.
"Heh! Now you're speaking my language!" Niles grinned at me.
"…I'd rather be mute," I mumbled.
"What was that?"
"Stay focused. We time this wrong, and…"
Niles nodded. He got the idea.
The cart rolled ahead innocently. Neither the driver or her horse had a clue they were being hawked from atop a nearby building.
Hope they won't mind hauling a few extra pounds…
"Closer." Niles crouched, impatiently tapping the ridge of the roof. "Come on…"
"Now!" I dropped alongside the swordsman. We slid down the tiles like the thief - only difference - we wanted to lose control. The faster we sped, the further we flew. And we sure did fly.
Twin screams rained from the sky: Niles' - the sound of unrestrained exhilaration, and mine - the sound of unrestrained, er, courage. Anyway, our arc through the air hit a downturn, and we dropped like two human-sized rocks. Eyes shot up from along the street. The next moment, they were at our level. Then we couldn't see them at all.
Out poked my head from the cushy bed of hay like I'd surfaced from underwater. Niles did the same. "Ha ha! It worked!" he clasped a hand on my shoulder. "We should do that again!"
Steadily, my nervous laughter turned bold. Didn't even hurt! Figures hay plus Shrouds equals, well, a soft fall!
My excitement wore off quick, thanks to the confused neighs of our new horse. Even more sobering - the rider's confused screech. "S-sun above!" she turned back, wide eyes just one of many that fixed onto us. "First a man comes gallopin' on walls, then, and then…"
There wasn't time to stop and explain. "Sorry," I grabbed the side of the cart and jumped onto the street - tufts of hay following the upheaval. Ignoring the rush and attention, my mind concentrated on finding that pink hair and lithe frame.
"Found him!" Niles pointed after landing on solid ground. Across the road, the thief slipped around a corner and into another alley.
He can't keep this up forever.
"Thanks for the catch!" Niles flicked the rider a silver round off his thumb, then joined me in slashing across the street. But by the time we reached the other end, we were greeted by disappointment.
Empty. Not a single soul occupied that alley, despite the fairly busy street behind it. And on the other side? A dead end.
"Something's up," I told Niles.
"Yeah. I don't trust he up and vanished into thin air. Must be a trick."
With a shared nod, we delved further into the alley. Though besides a couple scurrying mice, it was a bare spot - barely worth mentioning.
An idle thought wandered into my mind - uninvited, as usual: Why's this place here? Doesn't lead anywhere, doesn't have any benches - wouldn't even make for a decent mugging spot. So what… oh.
I stood over a circular gully cover, center of the alley. Right. Sewer access. Guess you wouldn't want that smack in the middle of the…
"Niles?" I called.
His gaze moved from the walls to me. "Find something, Purple?"
He followed my eyes and his jaw crept open. "Huh. Hate to give props to a thief," he spoke lowly, kneeling by the steel cover, "but this is a slick play. You can barely tell the gully's been moved."
"But it's definitely been moved," I prepared myself.
"Right it has…" he took a deep breath. "Well, Purple? You're going to want to plug your nose for this."
———————————————————————————–—————–
Darkness was a strange concept in Selem.
Sieving through the gully cover were traces of light. Traces we left behind as we quietly descended the ladder, plunging further into the unlit sewers.
Once we touched down, though, I made two realizations.
First: Around us wasn't a single light source.
Second: That barely mattered. At all.
Ahead stretched a pitch-black corridor, half stone walkway and half canal of… "water." Normally I should've never been able to see past my nose. But this place was a paradox. While dark as sin, those sewers were almost as visible as the above-ground city - every surface painted in nuanced, subtle shades of black.
Including us.
I paced past Niles' crinkled nose, footsteps soft and steady. Selem, the answer came to me.
Its odd effect on color - infusing it with an unreal depth and sharpness - let me see through the shadow. And black, I figured, is no less a color than the others.
But there were more important matters to put my mind to. Faintly, I heard breathing. Heavy breathing. Niles winked knowingly, and we crept around the mossy corner.
Down the next corridor was our target, sitting fatigued against the wall. "Bleedin' Abyss…" he caught his breath, clearly losing the fight against the sewer's odor. "Those pests. Persistent as gnats…"
He'd hear us if we got too close, anyway. But mostly, I just couldn't help myself. "Persistent." My smile was poisonous. "I like that."
The thief shuddered and jumped to his feet in one clumsy motion. Niles was faster. Driven hard against the wall by his collar, the thief grunted as the collision knocked his coif loose. His eyes hung low at his fallen hat and stayed there.
"Last chance, mate!" Niles easily overpowered his struggling. "I'm stronger, have more wind in my chest than you. Stop all this running and give back what you took. This doesn't have to get bloody."
His brown eyes narrowed at the thief's lips. If he tried to cast Stunshock, or any art again, Niles would be ready.
"Y-you're not going to…?" the thief resigned himself to the wall. "…If I do, you'll let me go?"
"We will," I secretly enjoyed his pained expression. "Long as we never have to see your ugly mug again."
"Hold it," said Niles. "Those boots. They go back to their owners, too."
"Wh-what!?" the thief's eyes begged. "If I lay low awhile, I might outlast this little snarl. And you want me to go back topside with my loot and what? Say sorry? You know what the guard'll do to me?"
"Don't ask me," Niles replied, "ask the person who stole them. Ask the person who put people in danger while he ran like a wuss. And while you're at it, tell him to keep his fingers in his own pockets next time."
"Next time…" the thief said bitterly. "Fine. Just as you asked."
Ominous air followed his words. I thought to watch his mouth for an incantation. So did Niles. Our mistake.
I only noticed the dagger once it slipped past his pocket. "Niles!"
He pushed away from the thief just in time to avoid a slit mouth. The following kick outpaced him, however.
Niles stumbled back, nearly into the river of sewage behind him. With surprise and distance on his side the thief took the opportunity to run. Of course, we gave chase.
But we wouldn't let it be like before.
"Down here," waves of impatience passed Niles' face, "no one can see me cast, can they? Ivy Cling!"
The vine fired down the corridor much faster than us. Another corner lied ahead. Past it ran the thief. A second later, the curving vine followed.
Quickly it went taut. "Caught him!" Niles smirked.
Withdrawing, the vine revealed what it latched onto: the thief…'s knife.
And after a yank with the strength to pull back a grown man, the tiny knife sped back our way like an arrow.
"Shade!" I ducked alongside Niles, inches beneath a bloody scalping. The vine continued down the dark corridor behind us until Niles loosened its grip and let the lone knife fly, sinking deep into the far wall.
Niles clutched at his hair, breathing easy once he realized nothing was lost besides a few black curls.
"He's making distance!" I rose and ran.
"Right!" followed Niles, unsubtly fixing his hair.
Our pursuit continued around the corner. The knife distracted us, however. Just long enough to find the next stretch empty.
"Couldn't have gotten far," I raced to the corridor's end, fists tight. But then we found another complication.
"Two paths?" Niles glanced down both sides of the junction. There, the walkway branched to the right and left. Which direction did he take? It wasn't clear. All I knew was-
"There's no time. We… we gotta split," I said.
"Crap. You're right." Impressively, he didn't hesitate. Niles shot me another casual salute, then took off down the right path. "Stay on your toes, Purple! We'll meet back up soon!"
I gave him a heavy smile, then turned to the darkness at my left. Instantly I felt weaker, smaller. Undeniably, Niles was a stellar ally; I would've lost the thief a long time back without him.
Now it's just me; if I find him and we come to blows…
My fist struck the nearby wall, and I forced my legs to move. No. No point doubting. You've fought Templars, thugs, monsters - what's a small-time thief to that!?
Over the canal I sprinted, the murky waters flowing to the right of the corridor below circular, spilling grates. Next came a turn, then another. But a familiar echo reached my ear: panting. And heavy footfalls.
He's here! I hurried my pace.
Eventually I came upon an intersection. This time, though? I found him. He jogged along the western path, pace noticeably slower. I didn't envy his mortal exhaustion. I definitely didn't pity it.
Loud footsteps did my talking for me. Hearing them, he barely looked back. He knew to make a break for it, pounding heart or no.
Yet he still kept pace through the passages. More turns and junctions marked our chase, the sewer unfolding into a genuine labyrinth. But for as much as it snaked and spread, my target never left my sight. Our gap narrowed. His fatigue clearly worsened, and I almost thought - hoped - he'd crash onto the ground. Still, he kept carrying himself, infuriating as it was. All the way into what could almost be called a room.
A very large room, where the ceiling and walls opened into a bare expanse. Widening too was the walkway and canal. The former continued into a dead end. The latter, well, it grew into a broad, semi-solid river of revolting color. Right before that was a merciful railing, which the thief wearily threw himself onto.
"Nowhere to go!" I cornered him.
He turned back, letting the railing carry the brunt of his weight. "How… are you… not tired-"
"That's enough!" I stood just a few feet away. "Unlike Niles, I'm fine with blood. My things and those boots! And anything else you've taken!"
I tried to sound tough, but a small part of me still would've preferred to avoid a real fight. Maybe that's what held me back.
That, and our surroundings. The river flowed from our left, filled by a row of spewing stone pipes, far past us to the right, where a wall would normally be. There was no surface to walk across, and he was in no state to rush by me.
Blatantly he looked over my shoulder; Niles' absence was noted. "You… still expect me to bring… back the boots I lifted?"
"Think you're off the hook because my-" I thought a moment, "because my friend isn't here? He was right; giving them back is the right thing. So you'll do it."
I took another step. "Now hurry. You've got five seconds."
Of course, I wasn't certain what I'd do when the five seconds were up. But I like to think I was scary for once, then.
"All right, all right!" he raised a wavering hand. "Just, let me…"
His eyes shifted over the railing. In a split-second they focused. Something was wrong. I didn't know what he was thinking.
But I ran to stop it.
Just outside my reach the thief leapt over the railing. I froze. Diving into a river of sewage? He was insane.
Or rather, willing to make messy gambles. The vendor did say the boots let you walk on any surface. And as much as I hated to say it…
His word was to be trusted.
Disturbed and undulated by the new weight, the sludgy waters ultimately conformed to the thief's boots. Uncertain, he took a step. Then a second. The river rippled softly. Yet held solid. Much like his steadying smirk. Once he half-turned - finding frustration stamped onto my face - I figured he'd gloat. He was beyond my reach after all, and there was nothing I could do to change that.
Instead he just retched, hastily covering his lips. The smell must've been worse than I thought.
He left behind a crude gesture as he snapped back to the rest of the slow-flowing river. His steps were slow, careful. That just made watching his escape all the more painful.
My fingers wrapped tight around the railing. I wringed it like it was his throat. That money, the mirror - they're not just loot, you lowlife! They're more than that. Who else in the world would give me those things after knowing what I really am?
But he couldn't hear my thoughts, and even if he did, they wouldn't sway him. With each step he took, my rage boiled hotter. I wracked my mind for an impossible solution.
Until I remembered.
That conversation with Oliver. In the prairie, after our battle with the dryad, we talked about a lot. But when arts came up, the memory of my mother resurfaced.
Within that misty scene, I could only perceive the words her and I shared. They didn't do much to illuminate my past. But they did mention Hand of Decay.
And another art.
Mom taught me the former - I'm sure of it. Maybe I can't recall the lessons, but once your mind learns something - like a recipe, or how to navigate someplace familiar, it's never forgotten completely, right? That has to be how I can cast Hand of Decay now.
So then, that other art - magic that morphed mom into shadow… she might've taught me that too. Somewhere deep inside my memory, could there be more power I can wrest from my past life?
Over halfway across the dark river, the thief walked. Tired and deliberate with his footing, he completely ignored my gaze digging into him.
Just for a moment though, I had to pull it away. I'd pursued this line of thought once before, under the tree with Niles. And the same problem stood in my way.
Even if I do know it, neither of us ever spoke the name. Shade! Without the incantation I can't cast squat!
I grimaced. I'd spent long nights wrestling with my memories. Every time I lost. Then, with precious seconds before the thief disappeared forever, I'd be a moron to try and recall the incantation.
…So there's only one other way.
"Dark Stride!" I blurted.
Nothing. My delivery was so weak, the thief didn't even hear me.
"Gloomstep! Void Walk! Dusk Dive!"
Would this art from another lifetime even help, there? It didn't matter. I had to try it. But as I rattled on more and more random, vaguely-related names, the thief neared the walkway on the other side of the river.
No combination of words made headway. And as I began to doubt I ever learned the art to begin with, one last phrase passed through my lips.
"Shadow Form!"
That one sounded different. Though for a split-second, I didn't notice a change.
Then I sank.
It was like an overwhelming pressure forced me undersea. Through the panic, my eyes darted. The room's high ceiling seemed so distant. And the ground… it was like I'd been buried up to my eyes. My vision skated along it the same way I imagined an ant's would.
But I couldn't have become so small. Sense made its way into my mind, dispelling the alarm.
I… It's like I've become one with the floor. No, that's not it.
I've become one with the shadows!
My body was formless - a dark imprint upon an already-black canvas. This state didn't hinder me one bit. In fact, I felt oddly… liberated. Like I could move in ways I never could before. In ways a physical form couldn't.
And that gave me an idea.
All it took was the desire to move and my shadow slid across the walkway. But instead of going forward, I went back. Effortlessly I hit the opposite wall, curving onto and up its mossy surface. I touched the ceiling with similar ease. Across the broad room, I watched from my upside-down perch. The thief kicked the soles of his boots dry. He probably hoped the filth hadn't tarnished the resale value. For some reason that only made me angrier.
Linear focus directed my form to the ceiling's other end in a rush of seconds. With a spectral freedom I floated down the other wall and met the thief.
Unaware of my presence, he made a haggard path toward the connecting corridor. Something drove him to give me one last glance: the past me, who must've still stood furious at the other side of the river. He wasn't there.
His posture shifted. Confusion. Then unease.
By then, I'd already willed myself out of the shadows like a hunter rising from the bushes. He barely started turning when I crashed into him.
Terror pulled his eyes wide as he hit the floor, compounded by my weight landing on his ribs. I looked down at him, eyes on fire. My mind - so focused on the chase - didn't plan what came after I finally got my hands on him. He'd run again, if I let him. Never would he give back what he stole. So I didn't let my mind come to a conclusion.
I left that up to my fists.
Over and over I rained down frenzied knuckles. Some hits bashed his face, others were softened by fending arms, and the rest wildly missed and struck the floor beside him. Tirelessly I kept going. I didn't know when I'd stop. Angry as I was, I was no murderer. But I was no pacifist either. Talk didn't get through. I'd make another way.
Behind my arms and his, I glimpsed teeth, drizzled in blood. My punches came slower, hit with less strength. Something was wrong. It wasn't pity. Not this time.
Weakness washed over me in an instant, and the problem became obvious: my Shroud. Occasional practice lengthened the time I could hold onto its power; ten minutes, give or take. About as long as our chase.
I didn't care. Frail body or not, knuckles striking an already bloodied nose wouldn't tickle.
Neither did his sudden sideways shift, knocking me aside. The move was desperate, as was his red-and-purple face, but without my Shroud I was as pliable as paper.
Rolling onto my chest, I moved to stand, but the thief staggered to his feet first. Cool, calm, collectedness - anything starting with the letter "c", the thief lost it all on the sewer floor and left it behind after he stumbled off.
Again.
But I wasn't concerned. Not because I'd outrun him; there wasn't time to stop and retrigger my Shroud, and without it I was about as agile as a cane-bound old man. No, it was his wobbly steps, fueled purely off the fumes of fear and instinct. After that was spent, he'd be finished.
"S-stop followin' me! Blasted freak!" he half-demanded, half-pleaded, glimpsing back with a puffy face.
Quietly, I tailed him into the corridor. He passed a turn, two turns. He'd given up on losing me. Now the thief was just moving; he knew what'd happen if he stopped.
Deep inside, I was surprised. At my newfound art, sure, but also at myself. Usually, I was the one left bloody, beaten, running away. This was a new paradigm. And no, I didn't like it. Yet it wasn't sickening either.
Strangely, what did bother me… was that this didn't feel like the first time I'd done this.
A ladder ahead pulled my focus. The same kind Niles and I used to drop into the sewers. He's going back to the surface? Bad idea. Must be more scared than I thought.
He reached the bars and scrambled up them like a cornered animal, almost slipping a few times. I followed behind intently.
At the top, he threw aside the gully cover and let in a flood of sunlight. The sudden flash blinded me, and by the time I adjusted, the thief scuttled over the rim.
A dozen more bars and I poked my head into the city. I really wished I hadn't.
Just beyond the sewer hole was the thief, fallen on his back in the center of another alley. A number of objects surrounded him on the cobbles: various jewelry, several important-looking blue cards, loose piles of rounds, and my hand mirror.
Though as my eyes rose, I found we weren't alone. A circle of orange gambesons loomed over me. The thief had it worse. Two pinned him down, in the middle of rifling through his pockets. Their weapons weren't out, but their faces were clear: Resist, and your problems multiply. Not that the thief could do anything more impressive than keep himself from blacking out.
Of course, his predicament meant nothing to me. I had my own to grapple with.
Grave gazes jumped from the half-conscious thief to me. They didn't carry a sense of sympathy, or benevolence. I wasn't looked at like a victim.
I was being looked at like the thief.