The Coquette and the Thane

PART I | Chapter VI

1:6 | Under the Same Moons

Carthak City, The Underbelly Arena

A sickening crunch—that of bones splintering in on themselves as sheer force meshed them together, like spring twigs buckling under the weight of an earth slide—came immediately before a piercing, blood curdling wail that echoed about the walls of the poorly lit, musky chamber passing itself off as a battler’s ring.  Slowly, as the zealous roars of the spectators swallowed up the muted, spitting cries to follow, Fern shut her eyes and lifted the well-nursed mug before her to her lips. 

The human alcohol was, if possible, in even poorer taste than the interior decorating, but not quite so stomach turning, at least, as the “entertainment.”  If nothing else, it burned nicely on the way down, further dulling her already addled senses, helping to drown out the gurgle of the ongoing bloodbath.

It was one thing to pit willing humans one against another—or any other race, for that matter—so long as the participants were in their right minds and fighting with rules and regulations.  It was another entirely to capture wild beasts, toss them in cages and make bets on what would happen.  Or, perhaps worse yet, to throw ill-equipped, malnourished slaves in with vicious predators of all stripes.

None who knew her would call her a pacifist, but the sheer injustice of it-

“Captain Desper…” 

An unidentified voice called through the gloom, fighting its way through winding the mist and fog of her thoughts, and Fern squinted at her mug, narrowing glinting, yellow eyes on the dark, murky liquid, as if it perhaps might be the source of the summoning. 

“Captain Desper…” 

But no, the putrid excuse for a drink did not, in fact, seem to be acting in any way even remotely out of the ordinary, let alone attempting any form of communication with her.  That, though, unfortunately still left the question: who—?

“Captain!” 

When a heavy, burly hand clapped her shoulder, she spun, half tripping off her stool in the process but slinging her assailant back anyway with enough force to shake the flooring when he hit.  Something on the bar top clattered behind her, she dropped her weight, knee slamming into his chest as her blade moved in, and-

Fern blinked, bleary, as her first mate came gradually into focus beneath her, and a short groan met her ears as he squirmed, awkwardly, against her dagger—poised ominously at his throat.  After a long moment, she scowled, letting up.

“Derg?”

The orc coughed, bringing a hand to his throat and grimacing distastefully.  “That’d be me, cap’n…an’ a fine evenin’ to you, too,” he returned, pushing onto his elbows with a lingering scowl.  “So what’s with it, huh?  Someone piss dragon magic in that poison you been guzzlin’?”

Fern huffed, stood—and instantly regretted it, bringing a fast hand to her suddenly cartwheeling head and whining before she could swallow the sound.  “Ohhh, for…unnnghh…”  She barely heard him stand over the throbbing in her skull.  “Chew on a Quician needler, Derg, you’d best have some…great…reason…to-”

“Ferna—?  Ahhh!”  What started as a concerned inquiry cut off sharply in the face of her jerking forward, snatching up the front of his shirt and raising her dagger all over again.  “Ah, Fern!  Des, Des-”

“That’s…better,” she said, though by the time she finished, her ‘threatening’ grip, was almost as much of a cling to keep her upright than anything else. 

While she may have been born Fernaeyllia Dewwhisper, Fern learned early that one didn’t get far as a great swashbuckling pirate captain, striking terror into the hearts of one’s enemies, with a name that sounded like a mix between a dryad priestess and a fruit drink from a pink rainforest.   Thus, no one—no one—in their right mind called her anything but Captain, Desper, Fern, or some combination thereof.

“So…” she began, speaking slowly in order to avoid tripping over her own words; it took a distressing amount of concentration, “…what…are you doing…here?”

“There’s a summons for you, cap’n,” Derg said, and she blinked at him.  “Tyrius-”

She groaned. 

“Des-”

“No,” she growled with as much force and clarity as she could muster.  “No, no, nonono-”

“But-”

“Tell him he can shove his tiny, withered and unpracticed royal excuse for a prick in a sewer goblin’s rusty muck rudder for all I-”

“It’s about Melsinna.”

Fern stilled.  Her lips closed, and for a brief, fleeting second, her eyes lost their color, fazing to a chilling, lightless black.  Then she blinked, shaking her head abruptly, narrowing her once-again yellow eyes, and turning them on her first mate.  “Will she die…if I succeed at what he wants?”

Derg frowned, torn between concern and reluctance.  “Captain…I realize y-”

“Will—she—die?” Fern insisted, hard and slow, and her crewman sighed.

“I…don’t think so,” he admitted.  “Not yet, at least.  He says it’s a mission to get leverage on her.”  Fern snorted.  “They’ve found out why the Council is so preoccupied,” he pressed, anxious as she turned back towards the counter and, consequently, her ale.  “This could be a turning point, Des…maybe our only chance to gain ground before war even breaks, and-”

“Now you’re starting to sound like him!” Fern accused, fierce as she turned on him.  “I don’t care about anyone’s damn war, Derg!  I don’t care if those fire-bitten, green-blooded vermin scour humans and fae-folk alike from this earth, I want…to feed that murdering, black-hearted she-witch her own heart and watch her choke on it, and I don’t care if it takes me-”

“No offense, captain,” Derg said quietly, “but you’re drunk.  I’m not sure now is the best time to-”

“T’shkalla vinth, you imbecile!” she nearly screeched.  “OF COURSE I’M DRUNK!  I’ll-”

His hand caught behind her neck, tugging, and her body vaulted forward—off of the stool she’d climbed back onto, and gracelessly back towards the ground.  By the time her hands found purchase at his hips, barely holding her uncooperative legs upright, he had his second hand under her chin, his thumb to her lips.

“Fern,” he warned slowly, stoically, and her grip on his waist clenched, released, and clenched again, her body barely trembling.

“She…slaughtered…my-”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“…in front of my eyes…” 

“I was there, captain-”

“…made me watch, Derg…watch!  I have to kill her, I have to-”

“-and I swear by all the gods of this realm and the next, when the opportunity presents itself I will give my life’s blood to offer you whatever aid I can to assure that that happens…but this is neither the time, nor the place, and what Tyrius offers now may give you the opening you need.”  He took a breath, dropping his finger from her lips but leaving the other behind her neck and holding her gaze.  “If nothing else, captain, the target is one of her sons…”

Fern snorted—a quiet, choked half-breed between laughter and tears.  “And here I would have thought she’d be the type to eat all her spawn…”  After a long moment, she gave a weary sigh.  “Fine,” she conceded, defeated.  “For now, I suppose I’ve no choice but to settle for seeing what he wants with her hellish offspring…though he should be warned, I won’t be held responsible if the hatchling happens to meet a sudden, accidental, unfortunate end once our purpose with it is through…”

With that, the orc Derg lead his fairy captain wordlessly back above ground, onto the dirty streets of Carthak, and towards the inn in which they would make magical contact with and answer the summons of the fey prince, Tyrius Goldwind. 

In the distance, a storm was brewing.

Serpent’s Channel, East of the Colony of Ire

Dark water broke against the bow of the Fair Lady, the waves all but black as the ship cut forward through the sea, their darkness broken only by the occasional shimmering, blue-green bioluminescent marine fauna that lit up when disturbed by the turbulence.  Tiny jellyfish, bits of live algae, or even fish, Baisyl wasn’t entirely sure, but they looked like fairy dust, sprinkled on the waves.  Beautiful, in a way—so long as one didn’t stop to consider what else might make its home in those bottomless deeps.

Under the open night sky and perched with his elbows on the rail, Baisyl shivered, and his eyes followed the trek of the waves as they lapped back along the hull.  Men died at sea all the time.

How bad could it be?

“A little late for stargazing-”

Baisyl whirled around, his heart throwing itself against the cage of his chest like a battering ram as he jumped, and-

Calm, steady brown eyes met his without a flicker of surprise.

“-isn’t it?”

Baisyl swallowed, willing his pulse back down within reasonable levels, and eventually, he pursed his lips, piqued.  “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“I noticed,” Kedean replied without inflection, and Baisyl only barely suppressed a huff, turning back to the sea and folding his arms again, this time slightly tighter across his chest.

“I don’t require your company.”

“Perhaps I felt like enjoying the sea breezes.”

Baisyl waited, scowling at the distant horizon in silence, feeling the nip of chilled air skittering along his neck, over his face, and through his hair.  At least it was a headwind.  Maybe if he said nothing…

Two footsteps, barely louder than the wind and noticeable only because he was listening now, sounded behind him, and out of the corner of his eye, Baisyl watched the dark shape of his guard settle in beside him.  He left a good foot or so of distance between them, far enough away to allow for personal space, but close enough to ensure that Baisyl went nowhere without his consent, should he choose to make any drastic moves.

Baisyl turned his eyes to the water beneath them, as if to blame the ocean itself for his own reluctance to greet it when he had the chance.

“You needn’t look so disappointed,” Kedean commented neutrally.  “If you were truly intent on sealing your fate, there’d be little I could do to stop you.”  When Baisyl looked up, his guard’s gaze was distant, turned towards the sky.  “I could keep you from jumping now, of course…but there is hardly a limit to the number of ways someone with even a little creativity and determination can find to bring about their own end.”

Baisyl eyed him, considerate.  At last, he accused, “Rhyan warned you.”

“He did,” Kedean admitted.

“Instructed you to stop me?”

“More or less.”

Baisyl ran a thumb over the smoothed wooden rail and lowered his eyes again, his brows drawing together in mild confusion.  “Why, then, are you not concerned with my intentions one way or the other?”

“I never said that.”

When Baisyl glanced up, he found his guard’s eyes on him—still calm, but also soft and contemplative.

“I said only that if you were truly determined, there would be nothing I could do…if that were the case, though, I expect you wouldn’t have been here to have this talk with me by the time I stepped outside.”

Baisyl scoffed.  “In other words, you think I’m bluff-”

“If I’m wrong in that assumption, though, I would have you know…this would be a very unwise point in our voyage to take your swim.”

Baisyl blinked, studying him, and finally, after a moment he ventured a wary, “Why?”

“We left the coastal region some hours ago and should be well into Serpent’s Channel by now, the last league of our trip before the way opens into the Carthan Sea,” Kedean explained.  “Do you know why they call it Serpent’s Channel?”

Baisyl propped his chin in his hand, eyeing his guard with dubious intent.  “Sea monsters?” he guessed, letting the words drip with unimpressed sarcasm.

Unexpectedly, Kedean smiled, shaking his head—not a malicious smile, just briefly amused.  “No,” he answered, “not sea monsters.  We won’t have to worry about krakens and sea dragons until we make it to open ocean.”

Baisyl stared.  “Surely you’re not seriou-"

“Are you familiar with the salcidae, milady?” Kedean asked, turning more fully to Baisyl and propping one side on the rail.

“Giant, blood-sucking, nocturnal spider creatures twice the size of a man with enough venom to down an army?” Baisyl asked.  “They’re myth.”

“They’re closer to three or four times the size of a man when fully grown, actually, though the rumor that their venom can do that much damage is a myth, yes,” Kedean conceded, “seeing as they’re carnivores and they paralyze rather than poison their prey, but that’s not the point I’m getting at.”

Baisyl listened, unintentionally curious.

“Salcidae venom,” Kedean explained, “is a powerful numbing agent, designed specifically to immobilize prey at least the beast’s own size, if not larger.  Of course, it takes effect in humans instantly, and due to the strength of the overdose, it usually overwhelms the system, making it fatal…a better fate, though, than the rare cases in which it doesn’t immediately kill its victims.”

Against his better judgment, Baisyl prompted, “Why?”

“The salcidae’s particular brand of neurotoxin is generally enough to stop a body dead in its tracks.  When it doesn’t, the senses left functioning are infallibly those in the brain, leaving just enough life in your body for you to be cognitively aware…as the beasts eat you alive.”

Baisyl straightened his legs, and did not swallow, ignoring the sudden vague queasiness in his gut.

“The good news is,” Kedean continued, “that the rest of your body is numb enough that you barely feel a thing…it’s only a sort of gruesome mental torture to watch your flesh being ripped from your body and your bones being-”

“What, precisely, does this have to do with this pass being known as ‘Serpent’s Channel?’” Baisyl clipped out, tightly.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Kedean cut off.  “My apologies, milady.  It is relevant,” he said, “because the species of eel native to these waters, the Irean sea snake, has a venom very similar to that of the salcidae.  The Irean eels are also nocturnal, also carnivorous, and also quite venomous, but with one key difference.  While their bite also paralyzes their prey, it works at a much slower pace…and it lacks the numbing agent.”

Baisyl frowned, determined not to show his unease.  “I can’t swim, Mister Akuwa.  I have confidence that I would drown before the dietary habits of any sea creatures came into play.”

“If you were fortunate, you would,” Kedean agreed.  “Unfortunately, these eels are easily agitated by disturbances in turbulence, and tend to flock towards moving objects at the surface.  If you died before you were bitten, you’d be in luck.  If not…you would have a rather long and excruciatingly painful end ahead of you…”

“There’s only a certain amount of time I could keep myself afloat to breathe, even if I were trying,” Baisyl argued.  “I can take whatever damage they do to me in that amount of time.”

“It’s not the damage they’d do to you immediately, Miss Merseille,” Kedean explained.  “It’s the effect of the venom that makes all the difference.  As I said, it works at a much slower rate.  The intent is to incapacitate the prey without killing it in order to keep it fresh for long periods.  The effect on the human body is that it first slows your heart rate, reducing your need for oxygen, and then begins to turn your skin into a breeding ground for a rapidly-growing marine fauna most commonly known as breathing kelp.”

Baisyl remembered reading about something along those lines as a boy when he’d grown a fascination with alchemy: a transparent, jelly-like algae, nearly impossible to handle in its natural state, but often used dried in breathing potions for divers and the occasional fisherman.

“Within ten minutes, your body is coated in a thin, gelatinous substance which will provide you with just enough oxygen to survive and prevent you from drowning for days, even weeks, if you are unlucky enough live that long.  You will be able to see, feel, and think about every bite they take out of you until they come upon some vital organs.  To add to the issue, the eels are also rather small, barely a foot and a half long at their largest with appetites to match, meaning that if you’re not taken in by a very large school…it might take them quite some time to work all the way through you.”

Baisyl shut his eyes—saw sleek, scaly skin, luminescent eyes, wicked fangs, blood pooling in dark water—and snapped them almost immediately back open.  He glared at his guard.  “Why do I believe you?  You could easily be making this up, trying to frighten me out of my own decisions.  I’ll have you know, I am not easily flustered…I’ll admit, I would rather die painlessly, and certainly quickly, but-”

“I’m a terrible liar, Miss Merseille,” Kedean said bluntly, “and a rather poor story teller, at that.  I would not make this up to frighten you-”

“I’m not frightened,” Baisyl snapped.

“I didn’t say you were,” Kedean conceded, still frustratingly calm, “…though you would be wise to be wary.  I meant only to caution you.”

Baisyl looked away, glaring at a far star.  “Why?”

“Pardon?”

“Why?” Baisyl repeated.  “I realize my brother instructed you to protect me, and not to permit me to hurt myself, but why go to all that trouble just to ‘explain’ when you could so much more easily…anything, send me back to my cabin, lock me in my room, tie me down…”

“And you would consent to that?” Kedean asked, and Baisyl scoffed.

“When a woman acts foolish, is it your business to care what she ‘consents’ to if you clearly know what’s best for her?”

Kedean gave him a strange look.  “Women are just as capable of making rational decisions as men…”

Baisyl’s eyebrows jerked up.  “Oh?” he asked.  “You believe that?”

Kedean frowned, “You don’t?” and Baisyl snorted.

“No,” he answered simply.  “I don’t.”  He rolled his shoulders and resettled himself against the rail.  “In my experience women are petty, simple-minded, and self-centered…not to mention entirely incapable of fending for themselves, if they ever possessed the inclination.”

Kedean’s frown stayed, though it took on a curious, thoughtful air.  “You and I have obviously had very different experiences with women.”  At length he asked, “Do you count yourself among them when you make those broad statements?”

Baisyl looked up.  “Self-centered, perhaps,” he admitted, “…but otherwise, no.  I am the exception…though I don’t expect anyone to see it.”

“Mm…” Kedean shook his head, “…you have a very…decisive opinion.”

“If it helps to know,” said Baisyl, “I have an equally stilted, pessimistic, and all-encompassing opinion of men.”

“Oh?” Kedean replied, sounding curious, at least.  “Let me guess, they’re all…violent, greedy, and…” He considered a moment, “…controlling?”

“I put them in two categories, actually,” Baisyl said.  “There are those who are cruel, selfish, power-hungry, and believe themselves destined to lead all others…and then there are cowards.”

“I see,” said Kedean, “and, just out of curiosity, my lady…which am I?”

Baisyl looked to his guard, eyeing his quietly amused but cooperative and impeccably tolerant expression with interest.  At last, he said, “You…fall into a third and as-of-yet unidentified category.  You’ve proven to have too much decency so far to fit with any of my pre-ordained classifications.”

“I almost feel flattered.”

“Don’t,” Baisyl advised.  “I reserve the right to change my mind at any point, should you choose to prove me right and align yourself with either type.”

When Kedean chuckled, deep and soft, it crept under Baisyl’s skin like a breeze through his hair, and he turned his head down as his cheeks warmed, refolding his arms over his breasts, intent on completely ignoring the way they came to attention in that moment.  He blamed it on the wind-chill.

“I’ll do my best to never prove you right, Miss Baisyl,” Kedean vowed, serious, and Baisyl ventured a look up again, startled.  It was the first he’d ever heard his first name on his guard’s lips.  “If you’ll forgive my asking, though, milady…” Kedean continued before Baisyl could comment, “…why?”

Baisyl blinked, not quite comprehending.  “Why the negative perspective on humanity?” he asked.

“Why the negative perspective in general,” Kedean clarified.  “What makes this world so terrible…that a beautiful, intelligent, self-assured young woman feels she has no other choice but to take her own life?”

Baisyl considered a moment.  Finally, he asked, “You think I’m beautiful?”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“No,” Baisyl agreed, “it was mine.  Are you going to answer it?”

A/N:  Oh, yeah, Baisyl’s sexist.  Did I not mention that?  Sorry, guys, couldn’t help it, but just THINK of all the lessons he’s learning about women as he has to live his life AS one!  :D  Don’t worry, Kedean will work on him, and he’ll get a thing or two knocked into his head before the story’s up.  If you still feel tempted to be pissed at him for it, just consider that he hasn’t grown up around particularly nice people, and has therefore gotten a pretty stilted perspective on humanity in general.  Again: he’ll learn.

Other than that, I honestly  have no idea how to thank you guys enough; safe to say, I was thrilled by the amount of feedback I got last time, and I hope this semi-early chapter can be considered somewhat of a ‘thank you’ for that.  I apologize for it not being particularly…romantic, or active, but it lays the groundwork for the next chapter, which is more exciting.  :3  Now, to answer some questions!

For sprite123: Kedean is bisexual.  He prefers men, (though he’ll say  he’s half and half); women just…confuse him, most of the time, and he feels more comfortable around men, but he can be attracted to both, depending on the situation.  Baisyl, though, is gay; just sayin’.  He’d probably be able to impregnate a woman if he had to, but he’s just…gay. 

For hitachiintwinlover: Kedean will definitely know Baisyl is male before they ever “*cough**cough*” and I’m pretty positive that the first thing that even resembles a sex scene will feature Baisyl in a male body.  I haven’t decided yet whether there will be any intimacy going on while Baisyl is female.  I know that might actually be somewhat objectionable to some people, at least, but we’ll see.

For Ryn (and everyone else): you can rest assured, Baisyl will get his male body back.  Actually, he’ll get it back temporarily pretty darn soon (and on and off again after that); it’ll be a while before he actually loses the curse entirely, but that, too, will happen, in time.  This is definitely a slash story.  :3

Oh!  And for Vandra: don’t worry, Baisyl will definitely fill his “classical role” when it comes down to it.  He’s just a very…domineering sub.  :3  I get tired of the wide-eyed, innocent, roll-over-on-their-back-for-their-seme, pink-haired ukes all the time.  Baisyl is not and never will be that, but Kedean will still “top”…even if he isn’t always running the show as far as everything else is concerned.  :D

Did I miss anyone?  I hope not.  Anyway, thank you all!  I loved reading your comments, I hope I can continue to keep your interest, and thanks for stopping by.  =)  I’ll try to update again once more before I head off for China (on Valentine’s Day).  ‘Till then!