A Yuletide Adventure Story
or
Sterling Does it Again
(And by 'it' I mean advance the plot through falling down)
or
Sterling Does it Again
(And by 'it' I mean advance the plot through falling down)
(I was bored. cj inspired me. I wrote this thing. I didn't edit it, because... uh... sleep deprivation. I wanted to draw this out as a comic, but that takes a long time, and writing it out takes less time, so enjoy this silly little story I did while waiting for tokens. I still want to do a comic version but then I want a lot of things in Eld.)
~
“I hate your pirate friends.”
“Ex-pirate. And they're not my friends. They're my mentors – or as they like to say my 'dad's.” Sachie smiled at this. “They're family.”
Sterling grumbled something about 'once a pirate, always a pirate', but it was clear that he was merely being surly for the sake of surliness itself. It was Yuletide. It was the season for surliness.
“As I said, you're welcome to come to our late-Yuletide dinner. Sorren is making pancakes.”
“Pancakes is not food.”
“Oh, as if you knew what real food was anyway. You spend five months eating nothing but hardtack and salt pork, and the rest of the year burning your tongue off with those Dathak'i spices.” The young woman wrapped her hands around her mug, lifting it up to delicately sip at her cider, and went on. Though her words were prickly, they were delivered in her usual overly-pleasant conversational tone. “Sorren and Willy will be happy to have you.”
Sterling mumbled something unfit for gentle company pertaining to just what he thought of pirates and assassins. Sachie raised a disapproving eyebrow at him from over her mug. “I've had near about enough Yuletide festivities to choke a sleipnir, thank you.” Sterling rubbed his face, feeling the myriad of scratches earned from dodging Azara.
He'd been at this for a few days now, acting as Sachie's errand boy, as he braved the Rune dragon Azara to fetch the shards she'd stolen from Willy – or was it the other way around? Who could tell with pirates? He was getting a bit fed up with it honestly. Last year he'd done the same thing, though this season Azara had decided to roost up in Willy and Sorren's attic. It was a bit on an easier climb then that old lighthouse at least. He still bore more scars from that season then he'd earned in his entire Naval career. Never again, he'd told Sachie.
'Never bet on a sure thing,' the voice of his Dire wolf rang between his ears. Moritz was seated just behind him. The picture of perfect obedience. He scowled at that, and tipped back his tankard in an half-hearted attempt to drown the pains of those many scratches. He was such an idiot. A gullible, stupid idiot.
At that moment there was a strident “bizz-beep! Bizz-beep! Bizz-beep!” Sterling jumped as surely as a Pavlovian Dire; his muscles half-expecting an attack to come. “Glitch almighty,” he grumbled when he realized it was just the brown pygmy Rune sitting on the table next to Sachie. He gave it a death glare, but the little brown ball continued to happily buzz, bouncing up and down like an overly proud cockatoo drake. Ceallach continues his assault on the ears until Sterling reached out and tapped the Kells Rune on the head. As he did so, Sachie leaned forward to swipe his tankard away from him.
“Hey!”
She sniffed at him. “I'm doing this for your own good, Sterling.” Her voice held just the barest edge of mockery, not enough for him to call her out on. “If Azara and I didn't keep you on your toes when you're in town, we'd likely find you sprawled in a gutter somewhere.”
“That was only the one time..”
She shook her head at him, turning serious. “Clock's ticking...” Sachie impatiently tapped her finger on the table.
Out into the bitter cold Sterling journeyed, leaving the relative safety of the tavern. His breath formed delicate shapes in the night air, that were quickly snatched away. He shouldered his coat and stalked down the street. The serval on the stoop across the street watched him. The serval had been there every time he'd made the short trip to the 'birdfamily' household, watching Sterling as if he were a cuttlefish in a bowl, swimming back and forth, back and forth.
“Moritz – sic 'em.” The dark wolf looked up at him in utter disgust. She didn't deign a reply, just breezed right past him, her two tails stiff with indignation. Sterling scrunched his face at her. “Just wanted to stir up his blood a bit. It's a wonder he's not frozen solid.” Maybe he was. Maybe that's why he hadn't moved.
Moritz trotted up to the building marked with a sign reading 'The Wicked Serval'. Unlike the rest of the street the windows glowed invitingly all night. The door was decorated with a beautiful glass design. Sterling forsook the front door – he'd met Willy before, and had no desire to repeat the experience - to traipse down the alley, where a ladder had been set up for his use.
Further down the alley, the gate that lead to the backyard beckoned with the scent of summer leaves and roses. It was downright disturbing to see that splash of bright spring green showing above the gate. Magic, no doubt, and a lot of it to maintain a garden in this bitter cold snap. Sterling had decided not to question it, for his own sake, though his eye was tugged to it each time he walked down that tiny passage, as if he half expected to see vines creeping closer every time he came here, slowly inching their way toward his ladder...
'Are you going to stand out in the cold all night?'
Sterling looked down at Moritz. He huffed, and started up the ladder. Luckily his years scampering in the ratlines as a middie had thoroughly destroyed any fear of heights he might have had. He was no longer as lithe and agile, but he walked along that icy roof with as much misplaced confidence as he walked the streets of Alabaster – which was probably why he kept slipping on the tiles. Still he made his way to the open window, where a crow sat eyeing him. Ooh... that crow gave him the creeps, with it's glowing blue eyes. More magic... he was beginning to think magic just followed him around to make his life miserable.
The man carefully slipped himself into the window. He felt like a burglar doing this, but as Azara had built her hoard on the top of the attic's door, the window offered the only entrance.
It was dark in the attic. Dry, musky air hit his nose, as frigid as the air outside. There sat the pile – an impressive hoard to be sure. It reached nearly to the ceiling, a glittering mountain of sparkling glass. The light that filtered in through the cracks bounced off various shards, sending chips of colored light in all directions.
And there at the top sat the hoard's owner. Sterling's breath caught, and his heart fluttered in a manner most unbecoming of a navyman who'd seen battle. Then he realized the great beast was asleep, her wings and tail wrapped protectively around her precious glass. Huh. When her beady little eyes were closed, the little owl-sized Rune was almost... cute. In a strange sort of way. Certainly to look at her now, one would hardly suspect the damage the creature could enact.
Sterling's mind raced. She was asleep – perhaps he could take a handful or two... he'd be a hero if he did. All the town knew of Azara in some way or other. It baffled him that a Rune Bearer couldn't bring her under command, but even Sachies' skills failed her in that regard.
Creeping carefully, Sterling slipped across the distance to the pile. The floorboards groaned softly, making him wince. He was so intent on his quarry that he didn't notice that the boxes had been shifted since his last visit.
He slid his back foot forward and the toe hit something solid. Sterling was unprepared for any resistance, and he flailed his arms as he felt himself slowly tip toward the ground. It was far too late, with a crash as loud as cannon fire, Sterling fell into the ring of boxes the Rune dragon had assembled around her treasure. Glowing eyes snapped open, and the attic filled with a growl.
Sterling stumbled backwards, into more boxes. Decorations and forgotten mementos fell on him, as he floundered away. He kicked over an old harpoon, long ago rusted – it fell on him crosswise, and Sterling cursed. There was a loud squeak as his hand crushed the air out of a rubber duck rune toy. He scrambled backwards, right into a box of glass decorations. He yelped as a large, frigid glass ball slipped down the back of his coat.
Azara snorted in amusement, hugging her hoard closer, as she watched Sterling flail like a dying fish across the attic floor. She didn't even bother attacking him – evidently the man was a bigger obstacle to himself then she could ever be.
Sterling bolted out the window as soon as he reached it, startling the crow into a frenzy. He gripped the windowsill, breathing rapidly, as the corbie scolded him rudely. “Why don't you try it if you're so glitchin' clever, you cracked vulture's by-blow?” The crow fluffed himself up, and responded with a rude word or two for the hapless lieutenant.
It was then that Sterling felt something cold and clammy wrapped around his leg. He looked down with trepidation.
“ACK!” Two green eyes looked up at him, and he felt something squeeze tighter. That was all Sterling needed to know – and what he needed to know was he had to get it off! He screeched, trying to shake the blasted thing off. He hopped one legged across the roof for about two steps, before he ran out of roof.
He reached out in desperation, but only the wind's fingers were there. He tumbled off the roof and landed with a crash.
~
“Did ye hear something just then?” Willy asked, looking up from his knitting.
Sorren blinked very slowly at him, in a way that meant he was not going to accept any questions about the forthcoming answer. “Muzu says a very large rat just fell off the roof.”
~
To possibly be continued if I feel like it.
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