The day didn’t tire, but it did change. The weather had become beautiful. It was the season of harahm again. Trees bud. Birds sang. Gravity weakened. Rambletide leylines sprout. The sun behind Clest became cream. The sweet scent of full flower, ripe grapefruit, and salt waves was overpowering, and airborne confluences coiled through the sky like a sea that was performing. Why, with The Leviathan Sky so glistening it was as if Hazahnahkah could just fly up and touch The Serpent’s scales for real.
The village continued to rot below however, and December 11th stirred in its shadows, watching over June 33rd and the rest of the children.
They had broken the girl out from her cage and fled towards the hinterlands. Anyone who interfered was immediately struck down by Hazahnahkah. This of course had nothing to do with seeing his potential sister, or even seeing Ysan again. No, it was as simple as freeing a slave girl. A mission the sword could get behind.
Just when they were in the clear, December 11th turned his back and found the old man from earlier standing there. He no longer used his cane, and now his eyes were kind, awake, shaded by a tophat. He smiled.
“I’m glad you decided to show Yurreth.”
“Balbaras,” December 11th said.
Hazahnahkah was slightly confused. It appeared Balbaras had allowed all this to happen. Perhaps he was even glad it did. “I want to offer you a deal. You want Hazahnahkah, don’t you? The Sword’s Sister? I’ll trade her to you, but I want Vrast.”
Vrast.
So if these two had mistakenly swapped them up, that meant Vrast was the name of Hazahnahkha’s sister. It filled the sword with awe. He wondered how sharp she was, what colors she had, how many shapes contained within her hilt. Her name… it was so short, so simple, so to the point. Hazahnahkah could only imagine one thing.
Someone powerful.
December 11th lifted Hazahnahkah. “And what makes you think I’ll give you the Creator Blade? I need both to end my father’s bloodline.”
Balbaras nodded in submission as he watched the children escape, then turned back to December 11th, adjusting his hat at a strong gust of wind. “Shank him.”
There were men who hadn’t been there before. They were as quick as the wind itself. By the time they stabbed December 11th several times through the cheek, they were all dead. December 11th rolled up his sleeves, his immediate regeneration sealing up the veins below his chin like threadwork come alive. It smelled of heavy iron.
December 11th was still bleeding. He was on the floor now. His leg had been swept from him. He rolled, regenerating on the way, nimbly avoiding several blinding flashes as a long thin blade impaled the floor like the horn of a wild beast, provoked into a tremor. The land trembled. The kids fell in the distance, but did not turn back.
“August 2nd.”
“It’s Augustus now,” the newcomer said, frowning.
He was an extremely beautiful fellow, with long white hair and streaks of black. His swordcoat’s finery covered the full length of a large knife at his side. The clothes barely moved in the wind, like the shapes of a spirit that had once died in these woods.
The man sliced open December 11th’s leg then ran at a blinding speed for the children. December 11th launched himself between them, still regenerating. Scattered sunlight from beyond the Leviathan Sky painted them. The two men were quiet, breaths tight and measured, boots scraping against broken land. The first strike was fast and ugly—no flourish, just raw rage—metal slamming against metal fueled with the instinct to not be impaled. Hazahnahkah was not invested in this duel, yet he could feel every strike vibrate through his body. How hateful one brother was for the other. December 11th ducked under the second swing, drove his shoulder into the man’s ribs, and sent him sprawling into a trash-strewn alley wall.
“You have our father’s tact,” Augustus snarled, quickening suddenly in his fury and swinging wide.
It was so fast, even Hazahnahkah did not see it.
The blade across the underside of December 11th’s arm—clean, deep, decisive. The tendons were sliced open like the strings of an untuned harp, high and sudden. Hazahnahkah dropped from his hand before he even grunted to the pain. They wrestled over the blades in the mud, grunting, slipping, no room for style—only awkward leverage and odd angles. When the fight ended, one man stood bleeding, the sword trembling in his grip, the other motionless in the rain, his weapon just out of reach.
“If I kill you enough, will you rob all lives within The Tower?” Augustus looked back to the grey spire, stuck in the sky. “I’ve always wanted to see it fall.” He stabbed December 11th. “Such a rotten place. So filled with vengeance. If you really cared about ending the suffering of our father’s bloodline you ought to just take all our lives the date you gave us names. No need for your nonsense quest… Mother.”
The man turned around. It was September 6th. She picked up Hazahnahkah.
Augustus’ eyes narrowed. “You know I really should be thanking you. If you killed me that fateful August I’d never have met Yurreth. Known her pleasure and her pain. Most should understand it’s an honor to be of her harem, and soon all The Fawn Cities will know. Bankanzaku is sure to wind up dead in the midst of it. Why chase after him? It only makes him run.”
“I don’t care for The Fawn Cities or your trivial Yurreth. You are a slave boy who has sold his body and his spirit. I will give you one final chance. Give me Hazahnahkah or face her brother in my hand.”
“Touching words from a second wife.”
September 6th smiled. “Too far from The Tower, but I won’t need my Ramble’s full strength for some concubine.”
Hazahnahkah only had a moment to realize September 6th’s stats were higher than December 11th’s. Unlike Wilchick, she was either good at veiling the electromagnetic waves which pulsed out from her brain, or she had truly integrated the false identity of “September 6th” into herself.
[September 6th’s Attributes]
Health (source of vitality and abilities): 40,000
Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 754,000
Agility (speed of actions): 17,250
Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 600
Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 1500
Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 350
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[September 6th’s Abilities]
Interlink: Distributes damage with anyone who has touched her with agreeable intent and is actively willing by making them [Interlinked]. Anyone [Interlinked] with one another also has a combined stat boost of 50% of the sum total of everyone else [Interlinked]. The effect activates only for if within one mile of September 6th.
[September 6th’s Equipment]
Pendant with a Pangolin: It looks like a child’s bauble. However, it has high stats of its own. Most notably giving its wielder [Ironhide], [Spiritfleece], and [Doubleshield]. It has other latent abilities that don’t appear to be active.
Uncategorizable Revolver: A projectile weapon more powerful than its gunpowder-powered brothers and sisters. It is powered by an unseen force. Damage is equal to its wielder’s Strength x10. The weapon’s projectile Agility is fixed at 80,000 regardless of wielder stats and has no distinguishable source of ammunition. It is a wonder how it fires anything at all.
[September 6th’s Conditions]
Interlinked: Effected by September 6th’s [Interlink].
Ironhide: Negates 50% of damage suffered.
Spiritfleece: Doubles Tenacity.
Doubleshield: Doubles Health.
Hazahnahkah didn’t hurt her, but he didn’t help her either. She merely [Interlinked] with him. He wanted to see what would happen and not act rashly. After all, Augustus’ attributes were naturally much higher than hers, and Hazahnahkah wanted to give her some ground to protect herself. She didn’t have any of the same reservations he did.
The woman took a step, vanished, and the land shifted. September 6th was gone, and Augustus was sent sliding back. Lightning ripped through the sky as the two figures collided, blades flashing like meteors, each strike sending shockwaves that took apart the land and remade it. Augustus spun low, dragging his knife in a fiery arc that carved a molten line through stone, only for September 6th to vault above it, landing with the force of a warhead behind him. The next thing Hazahnahkah knew, he had been swung straight into Augustus—the man flew so fast and so far that he narrowly missed under a large fin protruding from the surface of The Leviathan Sky. He deflected another blow, too fast to see. The man was acting purely on survival instinct, and this had somehow become even less of a battle than the first one. Augustus wore terror on his face, with sprawling pupils and an open mouth that could not scream. This was a man trying to save himself from slaughter.
And he did not succeed.
September 6th shattered through the man’s knife and pinned him to the belly of a whale sticking out from the water, tearing the beast open along with her victim. A curtain of blood poured forth from the sky, and yet it rained a red no one below would notice. Augustus died an anticlimactic death. He muttered in confusion, how he’d lost, what he could have done, but none more than why Yurreth hadn’t saved him.
“Because love can’t be shared,” September 6th replied.
[Experience Gained — Augustus Slain]
[September 6th’s Attributes]
Health (source of vitality and abilities): 40,000 → 40,500
Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 754,000
Agility (speed of actions): 17,250
Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 600
Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 1500
Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 350
[Hazahnahkah’s Attributes]
Health (source of vitality and abilities): 900,000,000,000
Energy (source of stamina and abilities): 900,000,000,000
Agility (speed of actions): 50,500 → 50,600
Regeneration (rate of recovery per hour for Health and Energy): 100,000,000,000
Tenacity (resistance to unwanted effects): 100,000,000,000,000
Strength (physical or mental reality manipulation potency): 1,000,000,000
It was not clear whether Augustus registered what she said before his death. September 6th looked up to the bleeding sky and knelt by December 11th. The man had taken all the damage she had suffered in his place, and was continuing to do so for the children. September 6th raised Hazahnahkah, but the sword reverberated. He refused to kill December 11th. He didn’t understand what was even happening or why. September 6th flung him to the dirt. “Useless blade,” she snapped, turning quickly to the barely conscious December 11th. “August’s knife shattered in the battle. He was not using Hazahnahkah. If Yurreth had her, she would have given her to Augustus. He was the best Swordpriest in all of Serpent’s Ramble… Are you alive?”
December 11th croaked, eyes shut. “Yes.”
“Are you able to sustain the injuries the children might suffer on their journey?”
“Yes.”
September 6th nodded, relieved. “Balbaras ran. I would fetch The Tower for you, but your injuries are so bad I do not believe even the orphans of The Tower with all of them working together can take it.” September 6th squatted low, and touched his knife. Her hand soaked the hilt with scarlet, but she had not noticed. December 11th had been using his Ramble to camouflage it.
December 11th tucked it deeper away, pulling out another hidden knife which was also camouflaged. He shifted uncomfortably, masking the swift exchange. “With Augustus gone we have all The Towers now. They can be combined. You take The Sword. Go and kill Bankanzaku in my stead.”
“The Towers combined may not be enough. I would not try without Hazahnahkah. Where do you plan to go?”
“June 33rd and the rest of the kids are getting too far. I have to go after them or your Ramble will lose its effect.”
“And if you get too far from me?”
“We’ll hope that doesn’t happen.”
September 6th tossed Hazahnahkah to December 11th, and the man went on his way, limping with sword in hand. Random injuries would appear on the man’s body as they traveled. December 11th continued taking scrapes, falls, and anything other issues the children would encounter. He’d grunt through it, and Hazahnahkah would heal him.
Hazahnahkah hadn’t changed his mind about this man. He couldn’t forget what he had done, and he hadn’t forgiven any of it either. His willingness to get innocents involved between him and his father, including Ysan, Ul, and his own family, was dastardly—but right here—right now—Hazahnahkah could look elsewhere while they reached a better place.
The sword activated his Second Terror and Third Terror simultaneously. The Second Terror was to restore the environment to a more natural state, one that was easier to control. The battle between September 6th and Augustus had blanketed the hinterlands in haze, and the compounds released from debris made it more difficult for Hazahnahkah’s Third Terror to control things. Once most of the environment had been restored, the sword altered nearby molecular bonds and reassembled the surrounding gases to form bioavailable compounds—amino acids, glucose, platelets, hormones, and even stem-cell analogs. Heat, gravity, and pressure were adjusted to optimize protein folding, blood clotting, and bone calcification. This was enough to ensure December 11th’s rapid recovery, as well as a successful pursuit of the children.
They reached a village, incredibly beautiful, perched on a hill by the sea. Though the sea was not water, but petals. Cherry blossoms of all kinds. There was a whirlpool opening in the Leviathan Sky. A place for the sun to burst through. The petals beneath looked like gold, and their edges looked like blades.
December 11th however made no threats, plans, or schemes to rob or coerce the village. Instead, he loitered around until June 33rd, March 8th, October 1st, Thezca, Yumisol, and the girl who was encaged fell asleep. He then went to the village’s leaders and bowed low, offering everything he had.
“I know your village has sought to seal Vrast for some time. Here, I offer her, the weapon to which I owe my life, and everything I have.”
Hazahnahkah couldn't believe someone was giving him away. The number of wielders that have ever done this was almost certainly less than the number of seasons gracing Serpent's Ramble.
There was heavy skepticism among the leaders. “For?”
“A life for the children I have brought.”
“And if Yurreth comes?”
“She cannot follow, even if she wanted to. I have made sure of that.”
“We know what you’ve done, child of Nahstha.”
At this, the very same knife December 11th had given them was plunged into his back. Several others joined in. They rose and like ravens, grey and black, beaks painted in sunset colors. December 11th did not even try to take Hazahnahkah back, nor did anyone pick up the blade—which would have allowed him to stop this madness. He watched in horror, screaming at the weapons of the assailants.
“Stop! Stop! I beg you!” Hazahnahkah cried. “Do you have no conscience!? Look at what you do! The man has no weapon! No will to fight!”
No sword or knife replied, and all were helpless against them. They continued to descend into December 11th without word, without voice. They were soulless. They rose and fell—mourners at a weeping altar, they brought their blades down as if performing a sacred rite. Blood welled like ink from an overfull pen, painting prayers onto the floor.
And still, December 11th did not cry out. He leaned forward slightly, as if offering more of himself. As if this was the price of his gospel.
The body was thrown into the petal sea, the children would never learn what had happened to their guardian, and Hazahnahkah was stored with the rest of the weapons that had taken his life. They sat in the musk of a weapon’s closet, with just enough light to know what was outside but not enough to feel its warmth. Hazahnahkah knew what crying was, but could not bring himself to do it. He had tears with no eyes to spill them, and more than ever before he felt very much alone.
It was a wonderful, beautiful day.
