The Curse of the Winged Scorpion
Wherein things fail to improve

Fanteldreamed. She dreamed of a world of verdant shadow, phosphor glowing moss, and ancienttrees with gnarled black trunks as wide as siege engines. She dreamed ofsilence that pulsed as loudly as the beating heart of Aldlis. In the dreamFantel was not alone; she did not wander blindly from one calamity to another,but instead walked steadily and assuredly along a path that untold generationsof Chimeri had walked before her. Above her head the canopy was so thick thesky could not look in. This was a place of perpetual twilight, the moon glow ofthe phosphorous moss the only light available. The thick, dark, silky scent ofdecay filled her nostrils and her feet made no noise as she passed over aspringy bed of decomposing leaves and tangled roots. This place was calledAashorum, but Fantel would always know the dense jungle simply as home. Even dreaming the Great Pulsethrummed through her body, echoing in her mind until all thoughts of her ownwere shaken loose and driven from her mind. She was Chimera. She did not needto think for herself. She was one of many echoes descending from the GreatPulse of Aldlis. She was an empty echo – and she was happy.

“Lady?”Someone shook her, and the Great Pulse grew dim in her ears, the booming echofading from her mind. “Lady, please. Wake up.”

Fantel’seyes snapped open. There was a young human girl, perhaps fourteen years of age,crouched beside her; the girl was shaking her by the shoulders. She gasped andjerked her hands away when she saw that Fantel was once more awake.

“ThankCirroc,” the girl breathed, not irreverently, her large hazel eyes huge withrelief. Fantel sat up on the small cot bed and swung her legs over the side.The girl crouched by the cot, watching her. “I thought that ropehead bastardhad really hurt you. You were asleep for so long and none of us could wakeyou.”

Fantelignored the girl and looked around. She was no longer on the Bhuvanti skybarge. Instead she was in a large room, empty of furnishing or adornment. Thewalls were solid stone, scratched with tally marks. There were no windows andFantel could tell they were underground. The air tasted flat and dead; stale likeonly the air of a cellar or enclosed prison could be. At the front of the roomwas a solid wall of bars and beyond that a nondescript corridor leading to adoor. She and the girl were not the only occupants; at least half the womenfrom the cargo hold sat around on narrow cots or pallet beds scattered aroundthe cell. They were cleaner now than the last time she had seen them. The emptylook of dread in their eyes remained unchanged, however. None of the childrenwere present. Fantel did not wish to know what had become of them.

“Howlong have I slept?” She asked and looked down at her body. Someone had changedher clothes while she slept. She now wore a simple shift of lavender dyedcotton with an elaborate high collar studied with seed pearls and rosy quartzset with delicate gold thread. She was also clean, her skin now a more natural goldenhue. She looked again at the other women in the cell; although not as finelyattired as she was, they too had been dressed with a mind toward presentation.The auction must be soon.

“I…Idon’t know,” the human girl stammered. She had a noticeable Tabrian accent,which wrapped uncomfortably around the Standard Imperial language she hadchosen to use. “Hours maybe, or days. I don’t know. It seems like forever.” Thegirl was a nervous mess, twitching from foot to foot and wringing her handshard enough to leave red marks. Her eyes were huge, wide and filled with panic,like a flogged horse. “They took Masome and the children.” She babbled. “Theytook ‘em in little groups, two or three at a time, and none of them came back.Little Raleigh was just six. What kind of monster would do that to a littlegirl?”

“Thehuman kind,” Fantel murmured, disinterested. She felt a little sluggish afterher drugging and the girl’s panic grated on her nerves. This child would gainno insight from her when it came to the whys and wherefores of human cruelty.

Carefullyshe rose to her feet, amid a smattering of murmurs and gasps from the othercaptive women. Fantel ignored them as well. She knew that her appearance wasstriking, even weak and unarmed as she was. She was over six feet tall, herbody all limber angles and lithe limbs, her legs long and shapely, her handsdeceptively delicate –assuming one ignored the claws. Her face was in some waystoo angular to be considered beautiful by human standards – or so she hadlearned – and her features were small but knife sharp. The irises of her eyeswere a tawny gold colour set against black sclera, another mark to distinguishher from human. Yet despite her strangeness she had discovered that humansharboured a peculiar fascination with her appearance. Had she ever had a mindto make herself a possession she could have lived very well off the desires ofhuman men.

Thecell was large, but twenty people took up a surprising amount of room. Fantelhad little space to work out the kinks in her muscles and the nervous eyes thatfollowed her around the cell grew tiresome. The other women flinched if shecame too close. She stopped inches away from the bars at the front of the cell.There was no one in the corridor. The walls were made of thick grey stone. The phantasmalighting set into the ceiling cast wavering red, gold and blue reflectionsacross the wall. The light moved constantly over the cold grey surface, like itwas alive – or wanted to be. There was a steel door set into the wall at thefar end of the corridor; the steel was scuffed, dented in places. Set into thewall beside the door a lock-pad glowed indomitable red, mocking her. She reachedfor the bars, meaning to test the strength of the iron, but jerked her handback as if stung. An unnatural chill rose from the metal. It made her backmolars throb and her flesh creep. There was phantasma in the bars.

“Technomancy,”she murmured. “They keep us caged with ghost iron, do they?” Touching the barscould be fatal. There was no way of knowing what nasty perversion of magic someclever human technomancer had worked into the iron. Her fingers twitched inannoyance. She had always disliked technomancy more than any other form ofhuman animancy. It was unnatural to force magic into inanimate objects. It wasworse by far to power that magic with phantasma. Something only humans, lackingthe ability to hear the Pulse of Aldlis, would be foolhardy enough to do.Turning away from the bars in disgust Fantel almost walked into the Tabriangirl.

“Willyou help us?” The girl asked her in a rush, the look in her eyes one of hopeand desperation. Fantel loathed that look.

“Helpyou?”

“Yes,”She nodded eager like a puppy. “I saw what you did back on the skyship. Thatropehead would’ve killed Riswani if you hadn’t stopped him. You’re strong. Youcan help us escape.”

Fantelshook her head, too jaded to pity the child her naivety. “I cannot help you.”

“But–I saw you,” the girl stammered cheeks staining with a hint of anger. “I sawyour hand. You’re not like us. You’re…different. You can fight them.” Thegirl’s words were less than convincing, but desperation didn’t need logic.

Fantelsighed. “Beasts of burden have claws, horns, and strength to dwarf a man, yeteven the poorest of human farmers can break a beast to labour.” She raised herleft hand in the air for all to see. Once more her flesh tingled pleasantly asshe shifted the form of her hand, letting her fingers lengthen into claws. “Doyou believe I have strength enough to tear through stone and steel? Do youbelieve that my claws mean that I cannot still bleed the same as you should theDha-hali strike me dead.” She dropped her hand, fingers twitching as her clawsretracted. “There is nothing I can do for you. If you wish to survive thenlearn to live in servitude, and hope that your future master is not given toneedless cruelty.”

Thegirl gaped, mouth opening and closing wordlessly for several heartbeats. “Butthey’re going to make us slaves. How can you just stand there and do nothing?What about you?” She demanded. “Areyou just going to let those ropehead bastards sell you like a piece of meat?”

Fantellooked from the girl to the huddled group of silent women around her. She metseveral sets of angry, bitter eyes, but none had the courage to confront herdirectly. Many could not even meet her eyes. Fantel turned back to thegirl-child. The girl’s courage deserved some recognition at least. “What isyour name?”

“What?”The girl twisted her fingers in and out of a tight, knuckle whitening lattice. Hernails left red marks on the backs of her hands.

“Yourname,” Fantel repeated coolly. “What is it?”

“Tamaki,”the girl whispered voice cracking. “Tamaki Innis. I – my father owns theFirefly Tavern in Remenes. Please,” her fingers broke apart and she shoved herlight brown hair behind one ear, “I have a family. I have a home. My mother issick. I begged one of the caravan masters to let me travel with him to Danitz.There’s a healer there – a magic healer. I was going to sell my Birthstonependant to pay him to help mama.” A single fat tear slid down her cheek. “Wewere going through the Cerri Pass. Raiders came…We were in the mountains; therewas nowhere to run. They killed the traders, stole their wares – I thought forsure they’d kill me too.” Tamaki shut her eyes tightly, refusing to cry. “Iwish they had killed me.” She whispered. Fantel watched her breathe, in and outin quick succession. Her story was nothing new; a tale told over and overthroughout Aldlis every day. Raiders had been kidnapping people to sell atslave markets across the Tabrian peninsula for months.

“Youspeak of death without knowing it; you are a child.” She said.

Tamakitwitched like a whipped colt. “What do you know?” She yelled. “You won’t helpus. You won’t do anything. You’re useless.” Fists clenched tightly at her sidesthe girl continued to rail at Fantel. “I know what happens to girls taken bythe Dha-hali. I don’t want that to happen to me. I’ll die before I let themtouch me.”

“Yes,”one of the other women spoke up, she had a long pinched face, red rimmed eyesand the rough diction of a low born Adran. Hot scalding bitterness splinteredher voice until each syllable stabbed at Fantel’s ears like hot pokers. “Youain’t like us,” she said. “The Dagoman – the ropehead chief –has a thing foryou. You’ll fetch a good price, be bought by some fat lordling. Keep you in agilded cage, he will, like a fat pampered pet. But us? Ha! We’ll be sold tobrothels, or else made to work in the Bhuvam mines. I’ve seen what happens tothem what work in the mines.” The woman shook her head and spat on the floor.“The little chit is right; sooner my throat be slit than end up in one of themmines.”

Theother women took up the chorus, each speaking over the other as they begged herfor either a swift, permanent solution to their predicament or a miraculousescape from a fate they all seemed to believe was worse than death.

“Please...I’man old woman...what do you think they’ll do with me?”

“....Ihave a husband...a baby...”

“I’dsooner die than spread my legs in some ropehead brothel...

“...Theysay phantasma poisoning steals yer soul and turns yer into a ghoul...”

”...Iheard ropeheads stick razorblades under the skin of their dicks....that’s whythey have to steal women, because they rip up their own whores too quick...”

“....Myfather has money... if you help me escape I’ll ensure you are richlyrewarded...”

Thewomen reached for her, grasping hands and beseeching eyes closing in from allsides. Fantel took a step back toward the phantasma worked bars before shecould stop herself. She raised her hands, claws breaking through flesh.

Bzzzzt behind her back the lock pad setagainst the wall flashed from red to green, and the steel door at the end ofthe corridor opened with a mechanised sigh. The women shrieked and fled to theback of the cell leaving Fantel alone to face this new threat. Two Dha-hali menwalked toward the cell. The one in the lead had rich brown skin and ropeymuscles, his long green braids seeded with pearls. He carried a mass ofmanacles cradled to his chest. Anima tattoos curled around his brow andcheekbones, framing his eyes. They rippled purple-black as he stepped upto thebars. His partner was younger, a mere youth with unmarked face denoting hislack of status among the Dha-hali. His brown braids were short and clusteredaround his head. He too carried manacles.

“No…”Tamaki whispered, shaking her head back and forth. “No, no, no. Please, pleasedon’t let them take me.” She pressed into the wall, cowering into the farcorner with the rest of the women.

“Chimera,”The green-haired Dha-hali barked. “The Dagoman will be pleased to see youawake.” He nodded to the younger man, jerking his chin toward a spot on theouter wall next to the cells bars.

Fantelcould not tell what the youth did but a second later there was another softmechanised sigh and a loud clickechoed through the cell. Fantel shifted her weight, balancing evenly on theballs of her feet and spread her fingers, claws extending. She might not befoolhardy enough to believe she could save the rest of the slaves but that didnot mean she wouldn’t fight to escape if the chance arose. The green-haired Dha-halidropped his pile of manacles to the floor and reached to his hip, unholsteringa handgun. The handgun was matte black and seemed to gleam wetly under therainbow glow of the phantasma lights. The Dha-hali made a show of aiming thegun directly at Fantel’s head, his finger curled over the trigger. Fantel hadlittle interest in guns, but she knew well enough that the round fired wouldmake an ugly mess of her head. Fantel held still. The wall of bars shuddered,symbols etched into the metal glowing angry red, like the coals at the bottomof a grate, and a wash of cold air rushed through the cell. Fantel gritted herteeth as the dispersing phantasma throbbed through her veins. The youngerDha-hali grabbed hold of the now harmless iron bars and started to pull themback. Hinges squealed as the wall of bars retracted into a recessed slit in thewall.

“Backagainst the wall with the others Chimera,” The green haired Dha-hali orderedkeeping his gun pointed steadily at her face. “I will not hesitate to kill youif you resist.” Fantel stared past the muzzel of the gun and up into his eyes –she did not doubt him for a moment. The Dha-hali’s eyes were flat and hard,empty of any discernible emotion. She weighed up her options. She was fast; shemight be fast enough to dodge evenfrom this range. She might be able to reach him before he could fire again. Shecould slit his throat with her claws and take the gun before the callow youthhad time to react. But she could not disable the lock on the cellblock door.She and the women would still be trapped. She could lay in wait for the nextset of guards; maybe she could kill them too. Perhaps the human women wouldhelp her, but it would be for naught in the end. She had no way of knowing howmany Dha-Hali there were. She did not even know where she was. Her own lifemight be without meaning. She may be an exile without a people, cut adrift amida race not her own, but Fantel had no desire to die needlessly. She steppedback against the wall, folding her arms demurely over her stomach.

“Wise,”The green haired man nodded. “You are dangerous Chimera; but you are alone. Youcannot win against us.” Once more he nodded to his younger compatriot to pickup his pile of manacles and enter the cell. The young Dha-hali looked from hissuperior to Fantel and swallowed audibly. He did not move.

“Go.”The green-haired Dha-hali barked in his native tongue and the tattoos aroundhis eyes darkened like a fresh bruise. The youth jumped and stammered somethingin Bhuvanti Fantel could not catch. He swept up an armful of manacles andcautiously entered the cell. There was too much white showing in his eyes as heapproached Fantel. He held up a set of open manacles. “Put out your hands,woman.” He said in the Standard Imperial tongue. His voice cracked around the failed attempt tosound authoritative. Fantel shifted her weight from one hip to the other, kepther arms crossed, and said nothing.

“Chimera.”

Thegreen-haired Dha-hali murmured, low and soft, the threat carrying perfectlyfrom the other side of the cell. Fantel felt her lips quiver in a sneer.Uncrossing her arms, she presented the sweating youth with her wrists, fingerscurled into loose fists, hiding away her claws. The youth darted forward andsnapped the manacles closed around her wrists with fumbling fingers. He almostdropped the pile of manacles when he crouched to shackle her feet together. Thegreen-haired Dha-hali swore at him and the boy flinched, too terrified to lookat Fantel as he rose jerkily to his feet and darted away from her.

“Good.”The green-haired Dha-hali nodded never taking his eyes from Fantel. “Now standagainst the far wall and do not move.” He flicked his eyes to the wall adjacentto the open front of the cell, opposite to where the other women huddledtogether. Fantel met Tamaki’s eyes for one brief instant before she turned andstrode across the cell to do as bid. The Dha-hali youth advanced on the women,gaining in confidence as he swiftly shackled them. In short order they were allchained. The youth scampered out of the cell and back to his superior, who allbut rolled his eyes before pointing at Fantel with the gun. “Chimera, you comewith me. Iqbal, watch the rest of these wretches.”

Fanteldid not move. She leant against the wall. Her shackles were cold and heavyaround her wrists. They pinched her ankles. She and the green haired Dha-halistared at each other. She had told Tamaki to accept her fate but Fantel hadnever been very good at living up to her own advice. Fighting was futile whenescape was impossible, but that did not mean she would go meekly into slavery.The green haired Dha-hali narrowed his eyes, lips thinning into a tight unhappyline. He still had his gun and she was shackled; there was no contest who wouldwin if she attacked now, yet logic did not matter. She had always been proud;it was pride in a way that had led to her disgrace and exile from Aashorum, andit was pride now that told her to fight even if death would be her only reward.The caged beast, it was said, was always the most dangerous. She hoped for thechance to prove this. The Dha-hali’s finger caressed the trigger, thoughtful,considering. Fantel shifted her weight, pushing away from the wall, almostdaring him to shoot. The man smiled; a flash of recognition lighting in hisshadowed eyes – the challenge of one warrior to another – and then he turned, extendedhis arm, and pointed the gun straight at Tamaki. The women cried out. Tamaki frozelike a hare in the hunter’s sights. The blood drained from Fantel’s head sofast she felt cold all over.

TheDha-hali smiled. “You are brave Chimera, and you are rare. You are to be theDagoman’s last and greatest lot – but this child? She is nothing. None of thesecurs matter.” The Dha-hali met her eyes, cool and mocking. “If I kill you mylife maybe forfeit, but my Dagoman will not punish me too severely if I killone girl. We have several others left tosell, just the same.” He smirked. “I think, though, that your pride is notworth this girl’s life, eh?”

Thefight left Fantel in a wash that left her muscles weak; she sagged in herchains. She had far too much human blood on her hands already. She couldn’tsave Tamaki, would not even try, but she would not stand by and watch the girlkilled. Twelve years ago she had sworn that no matter what she became, whatevershould become of her, she would not repeat the same mistake that had cost herAashorum. She walked toward the Dha-hali, her head high and her gaze steady. Hehad won this round, but should fate be willing, she vowed to make him pay. Shecould feel Tamaki staring at her; she could imagine the questions in the girl’seyes. Why would she surrender to save her life but refuse to help her escape?Why did she care if one human girl lived or died? What Tamaki could not know wasthat Fantel had no answers to give.

“Tothe door Chimera,” The green haired Dha-hali turned his gun back on her, aimingat the centre of her back as she led the way toward the cellblock door,pointedly refusing to look back at the other women in the cell.