Silver

Silver


Another morning. The Sun, in its infinite cunning, somehow always managed to creep its rays through the narrow creeks in her shutters. No matter how hard she tried, light always found a way to fall heavy on her pale cheeks. Shining bright, with the first crack of dawn, it is a miracle she still hasn’t gone blind from it. She always had a great distaste for mornings, whether it be for reasons of annoyance by the brightest star in the sky, or perhaps some other unbeknownst to her, she never really knew. Thinking it was too much of a time-waster trying to explain and answer questions that were of stupid nature in and of themselves, she dwelled not on these types of dilemmas. One thing, though, was certain – rest was not easy in her line of work. That much was evident by the look of her room: mud spread all across the oak floor from boots that treaded through godless bogs and marshes, complete and utter disarray of practically every little thing that could have been displaced. Perhaps the only things in their place were the bed and closet, though they too were unnaturally positioned. This morning was particularly difficult, she had seemingly slept for days with not even the faintest recollection of how and when she actually did fall asleep. A consequence of the hardships endured on the road, to sleep in like this was not entirely uncommon, but not even nearly pleasant. A well-rested body and spirit are not synonymous with a sell-sword, and even having a bed and a roof over one’s head is a blessing. At any rate, she somehow lifted her head from the angel-like feather pillow and stumbled across the bed in an attempt at getting up. Standing on her two legs, which were evidently getting very stiff, she found her way to the bathroom. Staring at the bath she just had that gut feeling of unwillingness and just could not bring herself to it. To compensate, she washed up fairly thoroughly above the sink and stared deeply into the muddied mirror almost trying to find a path to her own soul, as they say, the eyes are its reflection. Her eyes were grey, like the ones of a dire wolf, a trait that was pretty distinct and made her stand out amongst the common folk, apart from, of course, other things which very well could make her pop out of just about any crowd. After washing up, she fumbled across the room trying in vain to create just the slightest bit of order, and on the nightstand found a note. It was a handwritten note, very crudely and seemingly in a sort of a rush, and it read: “Meet me at the Crossroad Tavern. T”. Another job, it seemed, had sprawled up from out of nowhere. She thought, however, if she was out for so many days if this note was even valid. At any rate, she wouldn’t deny the chance of earning a bit of coin, so she still took up the decision to follow up. One cannot leave into the public naked, especially not when a job is in question, so proper gear was required. She opened her wardrobe, which was all but diverse, with multiple pitch-black uniforms of sorts created from the finest studded leather and fibre. These outfits were specialized, with compartments and modifications all over from neck to heel, upon which belts with satchels and sheathes for all sorts of daggers, potions and bombs were strapped. She buckled her coated leather belt with pure silver ornaments and fashioned her boots with even more precautionary daggers. The boots were also leather, knee-high and had various buckles with silver finishing, on the sides her daggers were visibly hanging, but she also made sure to keep one inside each boot for extra caution. She put on her veil, a leather and fibre hood and mask which concealed just about everything apart from her eyes, which with their relatively bright grey hue became even brighter contrasted by the night black. At last, she picked up her main weapon of choice. In this day and age, one is rarely fashioned with a blade as gunpowder operated weaponry has become well established, but she just never had a knack for it. The blade was about just as long as she was, with a katana-like grip and hilt ornamented with the finest black and red silk, fashioned with an eye just in the middle on both sides. It was the eye of a wolf, made from the rarest green emerald from lands forgotten by time. The guard was circular, though designed artistically and practically. Originating from the vast unknown of the universe, the blade was forged of silver meteorite ore that reflected even the dimmest source of light. Supposedly infused with the soul of a dire wolf, the sword let out a deafening howl upon being drawn, and the very movement of it cutting the air could be heard from fifteen feet away. Thus, it was properly named – The Howler. Strapping the blade on her back, yet another unconventional way of handling a weapon, she found her way towards the exit. Leaving the Inn where she was situated, she headed for the Crossroads Tavern, where she hoped – work was waiting.

	The town was, in its morning tradition, was bustling and living. Traders both local and foreign lined up their coaches in an attempt to sell their various wares. Their offers so diverse and rich that one might be entangled in thought on what to buy, and from whom. Folk were crowding the streets, a mix of all social backgrounds, from thieves and beggars to the high classes. All living their own sort of life. Silver treaded onwards through the mass to the Inn, which was thankfully just a spell away. She always found these sorts of atmospheres boorish and tiring, more preferring the countryside even if it meant living on the road, with nothing but the sky above her head. Upon arriving at the Inn, it seemed like she was expected, as T herself waited just outside the door, leaning on the wooden wall beside it. Her light-coloured hair and dark clothes very much made her recognizable even at a distance, and she was very well contrasted from the brown background. Her usual paleness of the cheek was ruby red, implying that she was sort of angry, though not true, it was more of an expression of annoyance, at whom or what exactly, Silver did not realize. That is until she spoke. “For God’s sakes! You keep me waiting for five days and not a single bloody word!”, she said frustratingly. Silver was silent. “Come on, we’ve wasted enough time already”. In an orderly fashion, they entered the Inn. T led her to a table that was very obviously her own and told her to sit down. At the table was one more person, a man with dark hair and skin tone. He was broad-shouldered, this much could be seen even though he was sitting down. Wearing the usual light-weighted cloth clothes, Silver knew he was a sell-sword, and suspected his purpose at the table, though did not express it out loud. “Silver, this is M. M. Silver”, T said as they had approached the table. The man stood up and with his height easily towered over Silver, who looked up unimpressed, a blank face unchanged from the very moment she walked in. “Tis a pleasure to meet ye!”, he spoke in a medium pitched voice that could not be too well matched to his looks. He extended his hand to attempt a handshake, though it was not reciprocated. Silver scoffed, and looked at T. T seemed to know exactly what was on Silver’s mind. “Sit down. No time to lose”, T said. The three sat at the table and made their orders. T and M ordered the usual ale, while Silver ordered a dark beer. “You really had to get me a sidekick”, Silver said in a soft and low condescending tone, almost as if mocking T. “Do you expect me not to?”, T asked, clearly offended, “after your last blunder, you obviously need someone to… help you not stray, M is here to do exactly that.” Silver grunted, though seemed to understand this decision, and gestured the wish to move to the matter at hand, as she did not really have the knack for bleak arguments. M observed, not really wishing to involve himself and further the discussion. “Okay, so, a local miller’s daughter has gone missing, last seen at his own mill, miller too afraid to check it out himself, saying he has seen “things” there, needs someone to find out what happened. That’s you, but since you’ve been so kind to vanish for five days, the girl might be as good as dead. Still, that is not your worry, it is to find out whether she is or isn’t. Miller’s ready to pay two hundred silver coins, and before you object, as I very well can see your intent to do so, this is non-negotiable”. “Fine, but I’m not splitting”, said Silver visibly upset with the decision, though understanding of it. T accepted this as a fair deal, expecting an intervention by M who was completely silent. He did facially express a great wish to say just about anything but decided to save it for later. A good talk on the road kills the time and the boredom, he thought to himself. T, after this brief pause, continued: “As I was saying, locals reported also seeing “things” around the area, might have been wild dogs or a pack of wolves gone on a bit of a rampage, so make sure you go well prepared. And, of course, you have M here”. “Where do I start?”, asked Silver. “Go to the miller first, see what you can come up with from him. If he proves useless, there is a local market nearby, some people from around there reported seeing the “things” I mentioned earlier, maybe they will have something more to say.” Rising from the table very nonchalantly, Silver took the wooden mug of dark beer and downed it in one gulp, turning around she headed for the exit, with zero regards to her companions at the table. M saw that she was leaving and stumbled to get his sword – a large claymore that was just about the length of his arm and ran after her. “M, watch her, closely”, T said as he passed her. Silver left the Inn, and M quickly followed. The crossroad sign pointing North read “Glenhouse Mill”. They took the path onward, gaining way towards this mystery.

	The road proved long and tedious for Silver, as M turned out to be not the exactly silent type as was suspected at the Inn. There was not a single moment of quiet, as M was yapping and blabbering on and on about god knows what topic or story he was pulling out of his ass. Silver, as someone who more often than not travels and works alone, could barely stand this verbal torture but chose to do so as an acceptance of the repercussions of her previous failure. Though she did have second thoughts now and again, wondering just how she was able to withstand this utter dread.
	Luckily for her, they arrived quicker than was anticipated, but she still felt like it took forever, being dragged by M’s endless gibberish. The miller’s house was fair, built of brick and stone, a sight not often seen in this part of the country. Its walls were white, with a slight greyness to them, showing obvious signs of age. The roof was of red hue, though the colour was eroded here and there. It was uneven, parts of it probably recently replaced. By all the looks of the surroundings, it was an average farmhouse. Scarce livestock and chicken were in large enclosures that could be seen a bit distanced from the house, and a large barn sat just nearby. “Not a word.”, Silver said as she pulled M’s shoulder away from the door. He was eager to knock, almost excited even. Silver took the front and knocked herself. “Coming!”, a male voice shouted from within after quite a few knocks and bangs at the door. The doors opened, and there stood an aged man, probably pushing half a century. He had a bushy beard, shaved on the sides with red cheeks and a slightly crooked but fair nose. His eyebrows were bushy and grey, as was his hair, which was short and messy. He wore blue pants and a white shirt that had ripples here and there. “May I help you?”, he asked. “We’re here about your daughter”, said Silver. “Oh…”, he said with his expression immediately changing for the worse, with a strong sadness in his eyes. “Well, come on in then”. M and Silver entered the house and the miller gestured towards the living room, where they were seated. The ordinary customary questions followed, with most being met with the polite “No, thank you”. “So, what is it you wish to know?”, asked the miller. “When was the last time you saw your daughter?”, asked Silver. “Well, it was about six nights ago, she had gone to the mill to wash clothes and check if everything was in order, as I was preoccupied during the day, working in the fields. She did not return home”. “Did you go to the mill? Try to look in by yourself?” “Y-yes, I did”, said the miller nervously, “I saw some… thing… leaving the mill”. “What “thing”? Can you tell me what it looked like?” “It… walked on four legs… it was night and the only light illuminating it was the moon, so I could barely see much.” “Was it a wild dog, a wolf?” “N-no… I don’t think so, it had no hair, its skin was grey and pale… I got scared and ran back to the house and posted the very next morning.” Silver was intrigued by this strange description, vaguely idealizing what this thing might actually be. At this moment, she brushed this off as some decrepit wild hound wandering the woods. She prescribed some parts of it to the miller’s imagination. “We will see what we can do.”, said Silver. “Please, good sir and lady, please bring her back.”, said the miller with his old eyes full of tears. He then pulled a golden chain out of his pocket with an icon of a forgotten goddess on it. “Take this, please, it belonged to her.” Silver took the chain and the two made their way to the exit. They had a description strong enough to go and investigate this happening without further waste of time, as Silver was adamant the girl is in danger. M was not convinced, thinking the miller probably saw things and that they should ask around the market for more concrete information. At any rate, Silver was the more convincing and so they moved onward to the mill, as dusk was already settling in.

	The Sun was setting down and the blue heaven had taken a purple hue. Slowly but surely, the light was escaping for the day and thus the two had to act quickly, as to not get caught up by some scavengers or bandits on their way back. The mill looked quite ordinary, built from a combination of wood and straw, it was one straight from a painting. Approaching it thinks quickly took a turn for the stranger. The mud near the entrance was fairly dug up, and signs of struggle could be seen. Within it, there were odd footsteps, ones not like those of either a wolf or a hound. They were large with obvious strong claw marks. Taking a detailed look revealed signs of someone, or something, being pulled through the mud into the mill. Gesturing M to stay quiet and to stay sharp, they slowly walked towards the mill’s entrance. Lightly pushing the door, Silver entered inside. Immediately both she and M felt a strong repulsive smell, which M could barely withhold. Venturing onwards deeper inside, a faint sound came from the main room. As they neared, the sound grew louder, it was as if someone was chewing and biting very viciously. They entered the main room slowly and quietly and laid their eyes upon that which few have lived to witness. A beast or whatever synonym is viable to be used for such an appalling creature. It was hairless, its thick backbone visibly showing under its skin which was pale and had a slightly purple accent. It looked like a human, though nothing was human about it. Crouching on four legs, it devoured what was left of the poor girl, separating meat from the bone with ease. The two were stunned, M especially so, as this was definitely not what he was signing up for. In a short panic, he pushed over a bucket that thumped loudly on the floor. The creature turned around, showing large teeth which could not be contained even by its own mouth. Its eyes were bulging and slimy, the bald head disproportionate. After letting out a scream, it leapt towards them. M quickly dodged to the side, as did Silver. Silver immediately jumped across the wooden wall and into the larger room, to enable herself to move. M did the complete opposite and found a place to hide. The beast viciously ran towards her, swinging its claws. In the blink of an eye, a howl. She blocked its attack, though just barely. Pushing the beast back she moved in elegance towards it, slashing upwards. With quick reflexes, the monster dodged and struck again. Silver blocked again, though it managed to scratch her arm. Silver took a defensive stance, thinking it unwise to attack once more, waiting for the opportune moment. The beast climbed up the wooden pillars and leapt towards Silver with even more vigour and viciousness. With a fair sidestep and quick reaction, Silver slashed the beast’s chest, wounding it greatly. But it hesitated not, as it leapt again catching Silver off guard and hitting her with great force, knocking her down to the floor. She was severely wounded, as the claws lacerated her chest. Her sight was muddied and her mind delirious. Somehow, she regained her senses but had not the strength to stand up. Her sword was a fair distance away from her and the beast slowly approached her, as if proud of its victory. It stepped over her, nearing its despicable head to her face, with drool dripping all over her. As it opened its mouth to take one final bite from her flesh, Silver pulled the knife from her boot and stabbed the monster into its eye. As the hideous creature was sent into utter delirium and madness, screaming and jumping across the room, Silver quickly but painfully stood up and picked up her sword. She neared the creature and with a merciful blow ended its cursed existence. Dropping to her knees her wounds began to take their toll, but she managed to stand her ground and got up on her own. M, a coward in disguise, suddenly reappeared. “You did it! You actually did it! I thought you were dead for a second there!”. He ran towards her. A howl. The immediate silence following it contrasted the previous rage and blood infested screaming tantrum of a devilish fiend, with it being once again broken by the blunt thumps of a body and head on the mill ground. “Useless”, said Silver while barely standing on her own feet. She found her way to the exit and made her way back towards the miller’s farm, hoping she will make it there.
	Entering the miller’s farm, half alive and half dead, she was luckily met by him at the very gates. “S-she’s….”, murmured Silver, barely being even able to speak, “…dead… thing… got her…” The miller uttered not a word. He compensated instead by flooding his old red cheeks with unending tears. But he was a strong man, so deciding there was enough death for one day, took Silver into his home where he would mend her wounds for the night.
	When she woke up, the miller was gone, and she was almost head to hip in bandages. Writing a short thank you note, Silver also decided not to take the coin from him, as she considered it a cruel thing to do in such circumstances. Still, she thought, T will have to compensate for the severity of her wounds, as this was not part of the deal. She left, quickly as she could, for the Inn, hoping to find T there.
	Upon arrival, T, as if she had expected her, was doing her usual leaning on the Inn wall. Noticing Silver’s slow movement and the absence of M, she almost immediately realized things had gone south, and ran towards her. “What happened?! Where’s M?!”, she asked in a frantic, panicking sort of way. “Ghoul. He didn’t make it.”, replied Silver in a painful voice. T showed a face of utter shock and led Silver into the Inn. Sitting her down in the usual spot, she asked for a detailed explanation, one Silver was eager not to give. She was tired and heavily wounded and had no intent to blabber about what had happened the night prior, her only wish was for a bed and some rest. “Will you ever get a partner that survives a job?”, asked T in a clear state of utter confusion. “Probably not”, replied Silver with a faint smile that contrasted visible pain in her face. “What about the coin?”, she asked, taking a big gulp from her dark beer. “What about it, you did take it from the miller right?”, replied T. “Nope, felt the guy needed some way to pay for the funeral. I’ll take M’s wage; not like he’ll be needing it now.” T looked at her with possibly all emotions mixed in, with the prevalent one being disgust. She tossed the small coin pouch on the table. Silver unhesitatingly picked it up and slowly stood up from the table, taking her to leave. She headed back to her own little enclosure, where she could rest for a day or two. Reflecting on the happenings in this bloody town the past weeks she had spent in it, she easily decided to leave and, when completely rested and healed would do so, moving on to the next place in the world that might interest her enough.