SWNOVELS Chapter Nym- Day Four
Nym- Day Four
Sitting on a rickety spare bed in Darcie’s home in Ordeallan, I ran my hands over the sheets nervously, Lydiav already asleep next to me, while Bal’gag was propped up against the wall near the closed door, in case Darcie decided to creep in later. We didn’t know him, and despite sleeping here overnight, fast approaching a second, since Lydiav’s fake carriage was ‘missing’, none of us wanted to let our guard down around him.
“How do you think Karla got through the fields safely?” It was a thought that had been playing over my head since we had stepped through the Divider. By the time we had exited the forest with Darcie, who had unsheathed his sword and ordered for us to keep close, the fields between what he called the ‘Forest of the Lost’ and Ordeallan had been full of Lesser Demons- More than I’d ever seen anywhere else outside of Hell.
The clanging and shouting of fighting had been all around us, right up until we reached the city gates. Death had been a firm companion on the battlefield between Nephilim and Demons.
So how, by Lilith’s beauty, had Joseph’s wife made it through on her own?
Unless someone had been waiting to escort her?
Bal’gag shrugged, polishing his weapon, “She could be a fighter of her own. We’ll try to find her today.”
“Should we ask around? Sniff out if anyone knows her?” It seemed the most sensible to start with Darcie, who appeared to be higher up in society than originally expected.
His house was nothing special, not when compared to the glamour of the Manor or even the simplest of homes in Pangorama, but it was better than some of the hovels we had seen while walking through the city. Darcie had explained what he could to us, lured in by Lydiav’s soft voice and pretty face. He had even given her some money, a handful of silver coins, to help her survive while they looked for her carriage.
“The Eastern side of Ordeallan seems the most likely. Cain said something about Joseph not sounding like a Lord, and working on the Port for money. You wouldn’t travel that far away from your family unless you absolutely needed to.” Finding Joseph’s wife might be wasting our time. Cain had asked us to gather information about The Borderlands, not Joseph and his wife. We should scope out Ordeallan, and then, once we felt we had enough, go back and report it all to Cain. Once we came back, we could head out to a different city. After a couple of trips back and forth, we should have enough to feed Destiny information when she was brought back.
I recited the names of the four cities in my head, revealed to me by Darcie yesterday, while he spoke about Ordeallan.
Karmona, Ordeallan, Lamia and Tarvenia.
Karmona was North-East from here, at the top of the island. Lamia was East, while Tarvenia was East and then South.
I hadn’t been able to ask Darcie how long it would take to walk to Karmona, not without arousing suspicion, but there were others in the city I could ask.
The hallway outside creaked, Darcie and another walking up the stairs, heading for the office. A scent not unlike Darcie’s- a brother, or another relative- washed under the door. Bal’gag stood, pressing his ear to the door. I rose slowly, doing the same, cursing the creaking floorboards while I tried to listen to the conversation on the other side of the door.
“Do you think you could help me?” Darcie questioned, continuing a conversation we hadn’t heard, and a voice replied, “It wouldn’t be impossible. You said they were lost?”
Bal’gag’s eyes met mine. I lifted my finger to my lips, and he nodded, watching as I unsheathed a knife, holding it in my hand.
“They’re only kids. Fifteen. One of the girls said her carriage broke, but I haven’t found any sign of a carriage, and they ask a lot of questions.” Bal’gag winced.
“Do you think they aren’t from The Borderlands? Another island, perhaps?”
“They spoke well enough.” We were lucky they hadn’t spoken a new language, otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to understand them.
“They may have come from Revala. Most of its citizens are educated to some degree. More than you would find here.”
“Why come all the way out here then?”
“Revala’s Queen has only just given birth to a long-awaited son. Princess Leena is only seven,” the unknown voice replied curiously, “They may be looking for some kind of alliance marriage.” I wrinkled my nose. Alliance marriages never sat well with me, especially when planned between children.
Before we worked for her, Destiny was betrothed to Cain, until the Manor broke it off. My father had tried to marry Lydiav and I off to get us out of his sight.
We’d run before anything could happen.
“I need to go to the Academy tonight. Do you think you could-”
“Play babysitter?” The man chuckled, “I have my own business to attend to, but if you think they’re up for tagging along, then I will watch them.”
“There are better paths you could take than the one of shadows and death. Don’t you worry one of your Assassins will slip a knife through your own ribs?”
Bal’gag grinned. Assassins were much more our territory than this. We would fit in better.
“How about I introduce you to them? They should be awake by now.”
Bal’gag stood. I slid the knife back up into the sleeve of my dress, taking a seat on the end of the bed, my hand resting on Lydiav’s foot. Bal’gag sat at the sparse table in the room, angling the chair to face me. Hearing their footsteps pause outside the door, he stammered to me, “The weather looks… grey.”
“Quite the conversationalist, aren’t you?” I teased under my breath, low enough that only we would hear. He rolled his eyes.
Louder, I replied, “I suppose it does.”
There was a knock at the door, Bal’gag rising to open it.
I stood as well, dropping into a curtsey. One thing I had noticed, was that the women here bowed to the men.
Both of them waved it off, and I took a seat next to Lydiav again, praying she didn’t wake up and blurt anything.
Seeing that she was still in bed, the man, who looked enough like Darcie for me to conclude that they had to be brothers, pausing in surprise.
“I didn’t realise she was still in bed.”
“Or that they were Demonic-beings,” the male added in a dark purr, Bal’gag taking a step closer to me, shielding me as subtly as he could. Darcie took a second look at us, his face darkening. Even so, he seemed to bury it, brandishing to Lydiav first, “Lady Mariatta, and her servants. Novella and… I never did get your name.”
“Never mind his name,” I cut in, stepping forward and lifting my chin up, the man laughing at me.
“You carry yourself with an air of importance. All of you do. Something tells me she may not be the only titled one in the room,” he brandished to where Lydiav was asleep on the bed, “Or you are all very good friends of someone with a title, who does not mind you strutting about using it.” He couldn’t have nailed our group better without personally knowing us.
Looking over my shoulder to Bal’gag, I panicked, unsure how to reply.
It didn’t matter, the man took a step closer, toward Bal’gag, dipping his chin to me and saying, “She hid your name. Tell me it.” The men here all seemed to have connections to each other. That had been something we noticed during our time here, too. For Bal’gag to walk and talk the way he did, it meant he was someone important.
But we knew no titles to steal, no lost lineages to take advantage of. And once we gave a name, there would be questions we would not be able to answer.
When I opened my mouth to argue, he growled, “I will not ask politely a second time, Demonic-being.” He took another, more threatening step forward, my knife slipping out and pressing against his throat, my heart hammering in my chest. Clicking his tongue, he glanced down at the knife. Both brothers shifted, preparing to fight. The man had a much more subtle position, like he was used to taking people offguard, while Darcie was more obvious, lifting his fists.
“Well, well… It would stand to reason that I was right. Who are all of you?”
“We’re nobody,” Bal’gag answered, reaching back and shaking Lydiav awake. My sister took in the situation with wide eyes, rising quickly, “So forget about us.” Bal’gag beckoned to me, backing toward the window. We would have to smash through it to get out, but we had done worse in the name of survival.
“Is that so? Lord Nobody and his two Ladies. Are those the names you want on your graves?”
I snarled at the threat, and the man glanced down to me derisively, his own lip curling back.
Cain had called these people ‘Nephilim’. Surely they were not stronger than Demonic-beings. I’d felt his wife’s strength when walking her out of the dining room days ago, and it hadn’t been much compared to us.
But Darcie had sliced through Lesser Demons with relative ease, using his sword.
“You have clean, unmarked skin, so you haven’t grown up surrounded by illnesses or dirt. Your fingers are calloused, but not enough to becry a life heavy with labour. You all have the markings and muscles of some kind of fighters, but not soldiers. Something more subtle. You-” He tapped at my shoulder, “Have archers muscles. Your back is toned better than both of them, and his knuckles are bruised- From some kind of fight, or just target practice on some padded boxes?”
Bal’gag growled low in his throat. And then the man’s gaze shifted to Lydiav, “You’re the one who charmed the way in through my brother’s front door. You don’t have the same kinds of callouses and scars as these two, but I can see little burns around your fingertips- Scars from working with poisons.” Had this man been watching us alongside Joseph?
“How would you-” Bal’gag was cut off, the man shrugging casually, “I work in a field of work that demands I notice such details. Yet you haven’t catalogued nearly as much information about my brother and I, but you did try. Which means you probably work in a similar line of work, but you aren’t the Assassin or Spy. You merely work for them. Who are you, who are you spying on, and who are you spying for? Answer me, or I kill that one first, Lord Nobody.” He brandished toward me, and Bal’gag, like he was trained to do, countered, “I don’t care about her.”
“Really? You may have woken Lady Mariatta first, but your body twitched toward this one. Tell me, Lord Nobody, did you wake up the blonde because you care for her more, or because you promised to care for her in order to impress someone else?” He tapped the tip of my knife at the words, uncaring that I still wielded it against his throat, Darcie gaping behind him, struggling to compose himself as his cheeks turned red, embarrassed that his brother had noticed more than him.
The man turned to me, mocking, “Little sister, perhaps? No, on second glance, you have the same face. A twin.”
Lydiav stepped forward, her voice honeyed and sweetly innocent as she began, “I can assure you that we are not spies, or Assassins, or working for any. We are just-”
“Liars, archers and fighters. You’re right, you aren’t the Assassin. You’re just the group that gets sent in ahead of them. Was my brother the target, or someone else? If Darcie was, then I am awfully disappointed in your Assassin. Any reasonable amount of research would have shown that he hates Demonic-beings.”
“Darcie isn’t a target. Nobody is our target,” I snapped, and the man scoffed, “You’re here for something, wearing a medley of clothing that varies across multiple social classes. Your twin has a title, yet you have the muscles of a fighter. Titled Ladies do not fight, so who are you? This will be the last time I ask before you find yourself choking on your own knife.” He glared at me. Bal’gag’s snarl took on a more vicious turn, and the man arched a smug eyebrow.
Lowering the blade, I growled, “You’re right, in some aspects. Mariatta and I are twins, and none of us are titled. But we aren’t spies, or Assassins, or working for one.” The man didn’t seem entirely convinced, crossing his arms over his chest, demanding, “Then why are you here?”
“We’re looking for somebody. Not to hurt them. We’re here to pass on a message.”
“Who?”
“Joseph Smith’s wife.”
The two brothers stiffened in unison, recognising the name.
“Karla? What message?” The man spat, while Darcie frowned worriedly.
“Her husband wanted us to pass on a message from the Port to her. It’s private.”
Lydiav stepped forward, adding, “He wouldn’t tell us where she lived, only that she was in Ordeallan, but we got lost.”
“We’ve never been here before,” Bal’gag muttered angrily, “We know nothing about the area.”
“Why would he not just write a letter?” Darcie was looking more and more worried, shifting from foot to foot. Did he know something about Joseph, about our world and the Demonic Manor?
Banking on it, I locked eyes instead with him, stating, “He didn’t trust the contents in a letter, said it would be dangerous in the wrong hands.” Darcie’s eyes widened, and he stepped forward, laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder, murmuring, “Reece, they seem sincere. I’ll take them to see Karla later.”
Reece twisted, muttering under his breath, “You seem to know more than you’re letting on, too. Karla was my friend. I’ll take them to see her now. But not you.” He glared at Bal’gag when we all stepped forward.
“We’re a package deal.”
“He’s a fighter. You and your sister are much more harmless than him. As a matter of fact, Darcie, you can take the Ladies to see Karla. I will stay here with Lord Nobody. If you’re telling the truth, then you can pass along your message, and come back here to collect your friend with no problems. If you are lying, and Karla is some kind of target, and no such message exists, then I will kill your friend.”
“I would much rather wait here,” Darcie sighed. His brother glanced to him, and then nodded.
“I will take the girls. You remain with Lord Nobody.”
Bal’gag nodded from behind me. I exhaled sharply. I didn’t like the idea of splitting up, but if this was our only option… “Mariatta and I will go with you, and he will stay here.”
Darcie entered the room, shuffling out of our way while Bal’gag took a sullen seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and brooding.
He rolled his eyes when I made eye-contact with him, miming shooting himself. I grinned, and he sighed, “Novella, stay safe.”
Nodding, I followed Reece out, Lydiav following behind, still in her fancy dress and shawl, since we hadn’t been left alone long enough to steal any clothes.
When we were out and walking down the street, Reece turned to us, “So, who do you actually work for?”
“I’ve already told you.”
“See, I don’t really believe that. I think you and my brother might be up to something.”
“If you’re seeing something, it’s in your own mind,” I spat in annoyance, trying to channel Destiny’s demeanour, making Reece chuckle, “Is that so?”
He didn’t push any further on the topic. I fell silent, dropping back until I was next to Lydiav, grumbling in Demonic, “We should get Bal’gag and go.” Bal’gag had been right. Coming here without a plan had been a mistake. Better to leave before we were killed.
Lydiav’s eyes sliced toward Reece, who had subtly tilted his head, trying to listen to our conversation. He might have known Demonic.
“I think we should finish this, and then leave.”
“What are you two plotting?”
“We’re not plotting. It’s a private conversation,” I answered, Lydiav offering a charming smile, drawing in breath to offer up a much more diplomatic answer, only for Reece to hold up his hand, cutting her off and muttering, “I won’t listen to your honeyed tongue, Demonic-being. Before I take you to see Karla, there’s somewhere I need to be. I will leave you in the Academy for the day, and collect you at dusk. My brother will be notified.”
I looked to Lydiav, the both of us hesitating, but seeing no other option when Reece stepped onto the cobbled street, hailing a carriage that was passing by, flicking the driver a handful of coins and ushering us in, ordering for the driver to take us to the Academy.
An Academy implied that there was some sort of schooling here, which meant there could be a library.
Most, if not all, libraries had history books. We could find more information spending a day going over old journals than we could trailing after Reece and Darcie.
Unable to argue, we slipped into the carriage, listening to it rumbling down the street, Lydiav’s hand grabbing mine nervously when, after ten or so minutes, we began to travel up a slope.
The carriage stopped at the bottom of a series of stairs carved into the stone, leading up to a massive building that sprawled across the cliffsides. Several portions of the Academy hung over a cavernous drop that ended in sharpened rocks. Falling down would end in your body splattered and broken at the bottom.
A bridge connected to main portions of the building- one smaller section, and a much larger, taller one toward the back. The bridge itself was supported by wooden pillars that were aging, beginning to crumble and sway with every strong wind, and a wooden beam ran the length of the bridge, allowing students to cling on for dear life.
“That looks… dangerous,” I sighed, Lydiav grinning in agreement, gliding up the stairs, beckoning back toward me, urging, “Hurry up, Novella!”
The doors of the Academy were made from wood. I pushed them open, allowing Lydiav to enter first.
This first room was split into three defined sections. The first one was a set of stairs that extended upwards, marked with a sign that read ‘Seniors Only’.
The second section was another set of stairs on the opposite end of the room, labelled as being for Junior students. At the bottom of the second set of stairs, a group of students were congregating, ranging in age from as young as five or six years old, up until around sixteen or seventeen years of age. They chatted amicably, for the most part, and almost all of them were carrying textbooks or weaponry of some kind. A few appeared to be dressed for a training session, with padded leather armour on.
The third section, and the one Lydiav and I now stood in, contained a desk with a middle aged woman seated, a thick leather tome in front of her, the pages open and yellowed. A pot of ink and a quill stood next to it.
The middle aged woman spotted us standing in the doorway, beckoning us over and commanding, “Sign in.”
Plucking up the quill, I dipped it uncertainly into the ink, my name blotching as I signed on the line, writing ‘Novella’ in a messy, near-unreadable scrawl.
The woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly at it, and I handed the quill to Lydiav, who wrote ‘Mariatta’, the letters bleeding together.
Shooting her an apologetic look, I angled for the Senior stairs, the woman already shifting her attention to the next students to enter the door.
We hurried up the stairs, our footsteps clattering against the stone, and then tumbled through a set of glass doors and onto the bridge. It swung back and forth in the wind, which whipped our hair around, Lydiav immediately gripping the railing in the middle, her other hand reaching for me, hauling me close to her with a squeak of fear.
On the other side of the bridge, built into and atop the cliffside, was the senior portion of the Academy.
“We’ll try and find some books about the history of this place, steal them, and get out of The Borderlands.” Lydiav nodded briskly, warily watching the bridge as we began walking, bracing against the strong wind.
If we had to kill Darcie or Reece to get out of here, we would do what was necessary.
We just had to complete this mission first.