Wrong About Love
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Kaden walked to the edge of one deck’s rim and leaned, his gaze drifting south along the spine of Asu’a. The sun was nearing its zenith—not high enough yet for him to see anything but a narrow strip of the ocean below, with nothing visible more than three koloss ships distant from that point northward toward Cienc in the east; about an hour away by ship.
But he wasn’t here on account of a lack of vision. He closed his eyes as he stepped out onto the platform between two gun emplacements mounted at deck level directly above the walkway rimming the wall side opposite which he stood.
When they opened again, Kaden looked down from where they’d been shut; their vision had shifted slightly eastwards to better match what would become their actual horizon once the sun hit it. Nothing changed upon looking outward except that the empty ocean underfoot became the glimmering waves beating against an island shore.
It took only four steps to reach the bottom lip of the low bulge into which the twin hulls met. The ground was wet here; not too damp thanks to the many boats currently moored alongside, but still a little slippery when your feet weren’t well-worn.
A thick coat of sand made up most of this half of the docks. They could also hear a fair amount of commotion coming from near where they’d seen so much activity earlier, a handful of malthropes walking quickly through a cluster of tents set off along the northern end of the piers.
The wide quarterdeck stair led them past the blackened wreck of some long dead ship and down toward what were now large warehouses situated behind another set of breakers extending from either side of the wharfs leading aft.
Mere yards from the broken boards now lay a short row of more solid buildings standing in rows at deck level, their wooden exteriors rotting slowly in the wind from holes punched in roofs. Stairs left or right rose from doorways that fronted each building’s eastern side.
Below those stairs were unloading areas for larger vessels bound from all over Vathiria to sail farther south across the Gulf of Triel; although Kaden saw no movement there today, his ears caught an odd conversation taking place among three other creatures standing below on the stone docks, none of whom wore any sort of insignia, all just arguing and gesturing silently back and forth while casting occasional glances westward toward Asu’a. Were these likely pirates?
Or maybe sailors from one of the several nations vying for control of the gulf itself, who were simply seeking refuge from whatever violence had ensued down the coast to the northeast as it happened to come here instead. One thing seemed clear to him:
Whatever he might be able to learn about such matters among the crews gathered here would only help him find Laith. Once that purpose was accomplished he meant to return home himself, albeit perhaps bringing new friends along with him.
He approached the westernmost warehouse whose single barred window revealed an interior mostly taken up by stacks of bales. Peering inside proved largely useless, however; every bit of floor space filled in nearly ten different spots, leaving only two beams running diagonally across the back half of the place where a man appeared to be leaning casually against a crate with arms crossed across his chest.
After several moments spent trying to work out if anyone else remained somewhere in the building, the fact that all the humanoids within seemed perfectly oblivious to each others’ company didn’t suggest that a meeting hall or tavern was in operation here, nor did the general look of disuse suggested by so many open crates filling out its lower portion.
Wherever Kaden was supposed to be going next he needed only to wait here to be sure he was heading for the correct location rather than simply trying something entirely random before starting the search over again.
At the very least it would take longer to determine he hadn’t located anything useful here, forcing him to start down the pier southward anyway.
If this wasn’t the exact spot Laith was hiding in Kaden wondered what other avenues he might explore first. It soon became plain, though, that these strangers talking here were being less careful than Kaden assumed he should have expected even from pirates.
Surely not all the parties involved in the discussion had failed to notice each other at close range already? Nevertheless, both sides finally looked up from their dialogue—and then simultaneously stared at him as if they’d suddenly been noticed themselves.
Kaden had heard humans doing exactly this since arriving in Koilos, turning around as soon as someone pointed one of those simple unassuming objects and began rifling through its contents—no matter how elaborate and impressive the false compartment would turn out to be, after all.
After having gone without seeing this done for weeks he thought himself particularly observant regarding such things, especially considering his former occupation as a spy in Hlondeth during the last war against the Pannion Domin and how closely the Shadowmasters often relied upon small-scale distractions.
Nonetheless, until those eyes turned toward him the entire scene had simply played out like some sort of imagined drama taking place inside an abandoned temple to a forgotten god. And even though he couldn’t mistake the shock in those stares, it was never easy watching oneself at work.
Watching yourself at work sometimes felt far too intimate and unsettling for words. Noticing the dark-skinned young woman standing with her hand lightly resting against the rough wooden surface beside the man who had caught sight of him first, he began wondering if the answer wasn’t staring back in the mirror.
“What?” demanded the man, at last, stepping forward briskly toward him. His gaze flickered briefly southward to where dozens of pirates wandered back and forth among the tents further up the beach, but none of them came near enough to hear anything clearly.
“Look,” continued the newcomer, fixing him with one piercing white eye, which would ordinarily have made Kaden wonder why such a person was still alive, “there are plenty of places you can walk away from. Do us both favor by not sticking your head into mine.”
Kaden faced him straight-on and refused to say another word. This stranger could shout accusations, swear out warrants, and even raise all manner of hells if he chose to do so. But it hardly mattered now whether the man knew who he was.
They weren’t alone. What Laith’s son had unwittingly discovered here, though, probably wouldn’t play well for any of Kaden’s companions. Even Laith, certainly. Although if she agreed with it then at least most of this would be over quickly.
For her sake, hopefully, before anyone started firing arrows into his flesh. He bent slightly at the waist, inspecting the man in front of him once more, hoping the creature had some kind of weapon hidden away among the bundles piled on either side of the narrow aisle.
Some form of tool or blade perhaps used when loading the crates onto ships along the docks—or something a little sharper, potentially lethal, that Kaden would prefer not having to reach past his own shoulder to extract from a dozen feet of clothing to avoid. Without warning, however, his eyes widened considerably. With neither movement nor gesture the pirate opened his mouth wide—much wider.
It wasn’t possible to tell quite how large the gap itself was, but the length of the black jagged teeth between his lips, intermixed with bloodshot yellow eyes full of malice, suggested it was quite long indeed.
Whatever the end result of Kaden reaching beneath the sleeve of his robe to grab whatever might lie concealed there, he knew exactly where his body would come to rest. Another heartbeat later, feeling foolish in spite of his predicament, he threw a quick glance behind him to see what kind of response the merchant lady was drawing from the crowd milling about.
Her eyes were shut tight and a look of utter exhaustion marred every line of her face.
She obviously shared her husband’s fear of flying things, yet in moments she’d wandered far too far from anyone trying to defend her from whatever waited out of sight in the shadowy reaches of the alleyway opposite.
Still watching her, he settled his weight backward—grasped his other arm firmly within the crook of his elbow as if he intended to lean across its length and plant a hand solidly atop the ground behind him—and slid downward smoothly onto one knee.
With nowhere else to go, that seemed the safest and simplest course of action. Unfortunately, he had no sooner shifted his right foot over his left calf than the tip of the strange spear found purchase just above where his inner thigh would join with his buttocks.
The sharpened pole jabbed repeatedly deep into the soft flesh underneath him before pushing its way farther back toward the opening of his groin, eliciting a few yelps from those nearby while slowly impaling him ever deeper.
It was only a momentary discomfort but it was the worst part of the whole incident for Kaden nonetheless: the fact that the pointy end of the iron spear looked larger than any bone meant for sustaining life.
Only a thin line of dried scar tissue remained around one edge of the puncture wound and the barbs lodged in the muscle there would certainly draw their fair share of attention regardless, but they didn’t feel very strong to him.
He wouldn’t wish to spend much time in the company of this fellow should things go awry, and based upon what he thought of those blades pointed upward at him as the pirate lifted his hands from the spears’ hafts, Kaden suspected that several shots from either end of these weapons might prove more than sufficient to put paid to him.
Or at the very least the next man attempting to leap over this counterweight. Which made thinking ahead impossible, forcing him instead to settle back onto his haunches and watch closely as the giant mass of metal crept closer again.
And just like that, the pain faded somewhat and the pressure subsided, shifting down through his leg to leave his insides strangely numb. Another instant later, the muscles once spasming below Kaden’s knees went completely taut.
Two more followed swiftly after first from his thighs; then from his shoulders. All told, there were ten distinct jerks that reverberated throughout his entire being. After the tenth, he felt as if his skin and organs were stretched tight across a rubber sheet, twisting gently apart bit by slow bit until finally coming loose altogether.
It took less than two breaths of inhalation to finish changing him into something wholly different.
The End