Chapter 3: Long Night

Her head was pounding unmercifully. It felt like a storm was raging between her temples. Clare fell to her knees in a leafy wilderness just outside town. Her head felt like it might split. She massaged her head, desperately trying to get the pain to go away. She just could not take it… She was sobbing, clawing at her forehead, all to make it stop. She felt like she was being tortured, and there was no way to escape.

“Raki!” she moaned, into the night.

She did not know that she had gotten to her feet. She did not know that she had drawn her sword. She did not know that she had gone back to the town. She did not feel the cold stone of the wall. She did not feel the weight of the sword in her hand. She did not see the terrified faces of people she butchered. She did not feel the slickness of the blood on her clothes. She did not hear their screams. She did not know they were innocent people. All she saw was Priscilla’s face.

The dawn broke over the town. Clare sat in the center of it, staring at the scene of carnage. Her memories were a mess; a flash of pain, a boy’s face… the warrior she had taken the sword from… the rocky land of the east… she looked at the dead bodies. Most of them had been in their pajamas, had fled into the streets. Clare had cut them down as they fled.

There was a woman, standing at the far end of the street. Clare looked up at the stranger; she had long, flowing blonde hair, silver eyes, and dressed like a monster-hunter, like her. She had faint, disapproving smile, like she’d just someone make a horrible mistake.

Clare got to her feet. “Who are you?” she screamed.

The woman said nothing. She only smiled that sorrowful smile.

“I had to kill them!” Clare shrieked. “They hated me! They hated me, even though I saved them! We do so much and receive so little…”

Still, the woman said nothing, did nothing. Slowly, she turned, and walked towards the north. Clare stared after her, wild-eyed. The woman was walking towards the north, calmly. She was striding towards the distant glow of a brilliant power. Priscilla’s power.

-

The mountains ended in sudden a cliff overlooking the stormy northern sea. Raki was briefly awestruck by the sight, and paused momentarily. Isabella paused as well, rubbing her temples, eyes shut. Last night’s heavy drinking was punishing her, Raki saw. He’d seen the symptoms in his father.

“Whiskey,” said Valentine, darkly, “Whatever you do, don’t drink whiskey. It’s the Dark One’s piss.”

“Uh- yes ma’am,” said Raki, nervously.

They continued along the cliff. Raki could see an inlet up ahead; a small port was nestled in it, no more than a small collection of houses clutching the coast. The bay was grey and uninviting, plied only by a small collection of fishing ships. A couple of bigger galleys were moored at the piers, flying no flags.

“Are those-”

“Pirates,” Valentine said, heavily.

They continued along the ridge, which ended in a long, rocky slope. From here, Raki could make out the people of the port; a motley collection of scarred pirates, rugged fishermen, and harlots. Valentine lithely descended the jagged stones; Raki awkwardly climbed down, nearly losing his balance on several occasions.

On one occasion, he nearly plummeted to his death. As he teetered on the edge, looking down over a painful death, a gloved hand suddenly closed around the collar of his coat. He was yanked back roughly.

His mistress looked down at him, coldly. “If you break any of my property, you’re going straight back to the slavers.”

Raki kept his balance, after that.

Finally, they descended the slope and emerged into the town’s main avenue. Valentine reached in one of her pockets and pulled out her compass. As she opened it, it produced a loud whirring noise. The needle was spinning rapidly, whirring loudly.

“Umm… what is that?” asked Raki.

“It points me in the right direction.” She snapped the compass shut and drew her sword. “Stay close.”

The town seemed deserted. Raki walked behind her, as quietly as he possibly could. Still, his movements seemed awkward and noisy compared to his mistress’s. She might have been a cat stalking a mouse.

A cold wind blew in from the sea.

A man burst from a building, carrying a bloody saber. Ivy’s blade sliced through the air and cut him in half. His torso flew apart from his legs, trailing intestines behind.

He landed on the ground. His face was bone-white and contorted in anger. His eyes were bright red, just like… Miss Valentine?

The rushed townsfolk rushed forward, clutching bloody weapons. Ivy’s sword cut them to pieces; the chain passed in broad, stately arcs, dismembering her victims. She twisted around; Raki ducked just in time to avoid the passing of the chain as it cleared an entire street. Blood and gore sprayed across the buildings and ground.

A man with a sharpened rake rushed towards them. Miss Valentine killed him; more closed in from the other side. She turned and ran into a tavern; Raki followed her.

But inside, there were even more of them. She cleared the room with a brutal swipe. Raki slipped in the blood and fell to the ground, breathing heavily. Miss Valentine was valiantly defending the entrance of the building, splicing them apart.

One of them was creeping up on her, slowly.

“Miss Valentine!” yelled Raki.

She turned just as the creature sank its teeth into her arm. “Dammit!” she screamed, and crushed its skull with the hilt of her sword. “Up the stairs!” she yelled to Raki. They both began to back up the stares as the monsters came on, being butchered by the dozen.

A crossbow bolt passed inches from her skull. She quickly retreated into the upstairs hallway and through one of the doors. “Bar the door!” she yelled. “Quickly!” Raki slammed it shut and looked around, looking around. There was a desk against the wall; Raki quickly hurried around it and pushed it in front of the door.

A few seconds silence.

Then, the pounding started.

“What are those things?” demanded Raki.

She ignored him as she examined the bite on her arm.

“Miss Valentine,” added Raki.

“They were once people. People, like you and I, who had dreams, lives, and loves of their own. Now, they’ve been corrupted, by a fragment of the Soul Edge.”

“Soul… Edge?”

“A sword. The original sword, I should say; all other blades are made in its image.”

“What did it do to them?”

“The same thing it does to everyone. It took all that was vile and immoral in their nature and twisted it, amplified it, until it consumed their very essence. Those people… when they saw a fragment of the blade, their hearts filled with avarice; they guarded it obsessively, until they become the lunatic monsters you see before you, mindlessly guarding a ‘treasure’ that slowly leaches their life away. There are probably hundreds of them: the original population of the town, compounded by the dead travelers and adventurers who came searching for fragment, and the unsuspecting seafarers who wandered here and were consumed.”

Raki shivered. “Are we going to die?”

She looked at him. The hammering on the door continued. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She reached inside her cloak. From it, she produced the sword… the sword Raki used to maim Voldo.

“Mistress Valentine?” he asked.

“Take it,” she commanded.

“But-”

“Hurry!”

He grasped the sword by the hilt.

“You showed talent, earlier,” she said. There was even something approximating a smile on her face. “I might even show you the basics, if we get out of here alive.”

The door was splintering. They were coming at it with axes.

Raki swallowed his fear. “Miss Valentine?”

“Yes?”

“If the Soul Edge is so dangerous, why do you want it?”

She grinned, wolfishly. “I’m going to destroy it.”

The door caved in, and two swords whipped through the air.

-