When they reach the palace walls, an overstretched tree provides a simple escape up and over. Once their feet land on the other side, there are numerous shadows with which to disappear. Tristan leads the way for Kira, keeping that firm hand on her arm as they move through the streets and alleys of the surrounding city. Eventually the alley breaks open and they can take a breath of the fresh salt air of the ocean.
Soldiers crawl across the imperial docks, searching ships for stowaways, but Tristan’s eyes aren’t on any of them. A familiar two-mast brigantine ship sits shadowed against the horizon and she breathes a sigh of relief. Raff’s here. That at least is one part of the plan down. They just have to make it to the ship. Tristan raises her hand to signal the ship, and suddenly, the fog rolls in. The billowing clouds obscure them from view—but also hide the soldiers from theirs. Pirates always love their dramatics.
She takes Kira’s wrist again and leads her forward. “Stay close and stay quiet,” she whispers, and Kira does as she’s told, following the captain with as much quiet as she can muster. The loud clanking of soldier’s boots echo through the clouds, and they do their best to avoid them, but a few collide with Tristan’s fist or the hilt of Kira’s dagger when they come out of the roiling shadows.
They’re about halfway to the dock and Tristan can almost see the light at the edge of the shore. Before she can turn to convey that, a scream from Kira splits the air behind her.
“Tristan!”
Tristan whirls, fists up, and she can just barely make out a guard holding a dagger to Kira’s throat as he holds her against his chest.
“Hello Captain.”
She recognizes the voice, even if she can’t fully see his face. “Hello, Sergeant.” Sergeant Harold Robeson is the man who believes he probably should have her job. He’s likely relishing this. “I need you to let her go.”
“Ah, ah. I think I control this scenario.” He keeps Kira close, blade precariously pressing against her throat. Him not knowing whether she’s actually the oracle is probably the one thing Tristan has in her favor. She just has to play it to her advantage.
“What do you want, Harold?”
“Oh, you know what I want.”
“Seems like you’ve already gotten that.” Tristan holds up her hands. “Let’s not harm the Oracle in the process.”
He seems to startle at Kira being called by the title, and it gives Tristan just enough of an opening. Her fist lashes forward, cracks against the cartilage of his nose. The man stumbles backwards, providing just enough room for Kira to slip free.
“Run!” Tristan orders. “Head for the shore!”
The girl disappears. Tristan draws her sword just in time to bring it up to catch Harold’s blade with a clang. Her knees buckle slightly on the slippery surface but she shoves him backwards. She swings again, refusing to let him keep her on the defensive.
Harold refuses to waste an opportunity. He comes at her hard and fast, blade sliding against hers as they struggle in the fog. Her heart pounds in her chest with each blow. This won’t be as easy as knocking out the other guards. With each song of steel against steel, she can feel a rock settling into her stomach. She can feel her resolve beginning to crumble that she would be able to make it out of this without blood on her hands. She wonders if Asheron was right, and this is the only way she and Kira would survive. She—
Blood splits the air as Harold’s blade draws across her side.
Tristan twists away to keep it from going deeper, but pain radiates through her. All her swirling thoughts disappear in a haze of needing to survive. He gloats, her blood dripping from the edge of his blade, and it provides her the opportunity she needs.
She spins, and her blade slices across his throat, opening a second smile underneath his chin. The blood flows quickly, splattering across her and it takes a moment of coming back to herself to realize what she’s done.
“Oh gods.” She lets her sword drop, not wanting it in her hand anymore. “Harold, I—” He can’t respond. He can only gurgle as the last few breaths before his eyes go blank. She releases a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are barely a whisper, before she turns and follows after Kira, heading to the shore.
The clouds part when she reaches the edge of the water and a small dinghy rocks against the waves with two sailors sitting in it. Caliban’s eyes are clouded over, hands poised as it’s clear they’re controlling the fog cloud, while the Wren is settling Kira on the boat. Tristan’s mind spins, unsure if she can go with them, given what she’s just done. Kira needs to be safe.
She’ll figure everything else out after.
“Quickly now. That spell only holds for so long.”
Wren reaches a hand out to Tristan next and she shakes her head. “I’m going to find another way off the island.”
“You’re not coming?”
The panic in Kira’s voice is clear, but Tristan can’t relent. She knows that this is the right call. “They’ll be looking for both of us together. It’ll be safer if we split up for now. Raff knows exactly where to take you, and I will meet you there in two weeks.” Tristan reaches out a hand to Kira, and Kira takes it, squeezing it back as hard as she can. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Kira wavers, but nods. There’s no time to debate and she knows it. Instead, she pushes her dagger into Tristan’s hand. “Since you lost your sword.”
Tristan nods, sliding it into her belt, before looking back at the sailors. “Remind Raff that she owes me. And if Kira doesn’t make it to the commune safely, I’m taking back her ship.”
Wren smirks. “Will do. We’ll provide you as much cover as we can.”
Tristan turns and head back into the clouds, but stays towards the edge of it. She waits until the dinghy is fully set off from shore, before heading into the shadows of town and breaking into the trees. She needs an opportunity to patch herself up. She needs to gather some resources and find her own way off this island.
But for now, Kira is safe. That’s a job well done enough for one day.
if history is dead and gone | fantasy girl gang | 1,100
When they reach the palace walls, an overstretched tree provides a simple escape up and over. Once their feet land on the other side, there are numerous shadows with which to disappear. Tristan leads the way for Kira, keeping that firm hand on her arm as they move through the streets and alleys of the surrounding city. Eventually the alley breaks open and they can take a breath of the fresh salt air of the ocean.
Soldiers crawl across the imperial docks, searching ships for stowaways, but Tristan’s eyes aren’t on any of them. A familiar two-mast brigantine ship sits shadowed against the horizon and she breathes a sigh of relief. Raff’s here. That at least is one part of the plan down. They just have to make it to the ship. Tristan raises her hand to signal the ship, and suddenly, the fog rolls in. The billowing clouds obscure them from view—but also hide the soldiers from theirs. Pirates always love their dramatics.
She takes Kira’s wrist again and leads her forward. “Stay close and stay quiet,” she whispers, and Kira does as she’s told, following the captain with as much quiet as she can muster. The loud clanking of soldier’s boots echo through the clouds, and they do their best to avoid them, but a few collide with Tristan’s fist or the hilt of Kira’s dagger when they come out of the roiling shadows.
They’re about halfway to the dock and Tristan can almost see the light at the edge of the shore. Before she can turn to convey that, a scream from Kira splits the air behind her.
“Tristan!”
Tristan whirls, fists up, and she can just barely make out a guard holding a dagger to Kira’s throat as he holds her against his chest.
“Hello Captain.”
She recognizes the voice, even if she can’t fully see his face. “Hello, Sergeant.” Sergeant Harold Robeson is the man who believes he probably should have her job. He’s likely relishing this. “I need you to let her go.”
“Ah, ah. I think I control this scenario.” He keeps Kira close, blade precariously pressing against her throat. Him not knowing whether she’s actually the oracle is probably the one thing Tristan has in her favor. She just has to play it to her advantage.
“What do you want, Harold?”
“Oh, you know what I want.”
“Seems like you’ve already gotten that.” Tristan holds up her hands. “Let’s not harm the Oracle in the process.”
He seems to startle at Kira being called by the title, and it gives Tristan just enough of an opening. Her fist lashes forward, cracks against the cartilage of his nose. The man stumbles backwards, providing just enough room for Kira to slip free.
“Run!” Tristan orders. “Head for the shore!”
The girl disappears. Tristan draws her sword just in time to bring it up to catch Harold’s blade with a clang. Her knees buckle slightly on the slippery surface but she shoves him backwards. She swings again, refusing to let him keep her on the defensive.
Harold refuses to waste an opportunity. He comes at her hard and fast, blade sliding against hers as they struggle in the fog. Her heart pounds in her chest with each blow. This won’t be as easy as knocking out the other guards. With each song of steel against steel, she can feel a rock settling into her stomach. She can feel her resolve beginning to crumble that she would be able to make it out of this without blood on her hands. She wonders if Asheron was right, and this is the only way she and Kira would survive. She—
Blood splits the air as Harold’s blade draws across her side.
Tristan twists away to keep it from going deeper, but pain radiates through her. All her swirling thoughts disappear in a haze of needing to survive. He gloats, her blood dripping from the edge of his blade, and it provides her the opportunity she needs.
She spins, and her blade slices across his throat, opening a second smile underneath his chin. The blood flows quickly, splattering across her and it takes a moment of coming back to herself to realize what she’s done.
“Oh gods.” She lets her sword drop, not wanting it in her hand anymore. “Harold, I—”
He can’t respond. He can only gurgle as the last few breaths before his eyes go blank. She releases a shuddering breath.
“I’m sorry.”
The words are barely a whisper, before she turns and follows after Kira, heading to the shore.
The clouds part when she reaches the edge of the water and a small dinghy rocks against the waves with two sailors sitting in it. Caliban’s eyes are clouded over, hands poised as it’s clear they’re controlling the fog cloud, while the Wren is settling Kira on the boat. Tristan’s mind spins, unsure if she can go with them, given what she’s just done. Kira needs to be safe.
She’ll figure everything else out after.
“Quickly now. That spell only holds for so long.”
Wren reaches a hand out to Tristan next and she shakes her head. “I’m going to find another way off the island.”
“You’re not coming?”
The panic in Kira’s voice is clear, but Tristan can’t relent. She knows that this is the right call.
“They’ll be looking for both of us together. It’ll be safer if we split up for now. Raff knows exactly where to take you, and I will meet you there in two weeks.” Tristan reaches out a hand to Kira, and Kira takes it, squeezing it back as hard as she can. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Kira wavers, but nods. There’s no time to debate and she knows it. Instead, she pushes her dagger into Tristan’s hand. “Since you lost your sword.”
Tristan nods, sliding it into her belt, before looking back at the sailors. “Remind Raff that she owes me. And if Kira doesn’t make it to the commune safely, I’m taking back her ship.”
Wren smirks. “Will do. We’ll provide you as much cover as we can.”
Tristan turns and head back into the clouds, but stays towards the edge of it. She waits until the dinghy is fully set off from shore, before heading into the shadows of town and breaking into the trees. She needs an opportunity to patch herself up. She needs to gather some resources and find her own way off this island.
But for now, Kira is safe. That’s a job well done enough for one day.