“You’re killing me, Zala. How ya gonna charge 7 rul for a cup of water; look, there’s sand all at the bottom!” Haggling with the old broad was an exercise in futility, but one that I’d grown accustomed to in my brief time knowing her.
She snorted like a wild pig, a rudimentary ocular implant flickering a staticky blue where a left eye should have been.
"The well is two miles away and Gonzo’s boys run it. You don’t like my prices then try taking it up with them." She crossed her arms over her boney chest and glared at me. A sheen of sweat covered her leathery skin. The heat was a bitch today, even under the tattered awning that passed for her storefront. Then again, that was this whole rotten continent, really: hot and dusty.
It was like the sun was punishing us for being so stubborn, for surviving in the face of it all, and perhaps there was some merit to that. I couldn’t begin to imagine Hikta before The Fall — none of us could. The only reminders of that ancient calamity were the half-sunken spires of metal and glass that peeked from the ever-rolling dunes; shattered remnants of a golden age long passed, cloying towards the heavens and at night a shattered moon.
No one had the faintest idea of when the great calamity had occurred, gleaning our existing knowledge from a group of nomadic historians who had spent far too much time amongst the wastes known as The Ascendant; a funny bunch of zealots that had roamed Hikta since time forgotten.
Regardless, that was centuries ago, or perhaps millennia, so no one could say for certain and even fewer seemed to care.
”Gah, fine.” I grudgingly paid for the tin cup full of murky water. It was lukewarm and tasted faintly of sulfur. I gulped it down anyway. My tongue felt like a piece of leather in it’s barely palatable aftermath, but water was water.
"Ya know, for that sticker at your hip I’d give you a whole gallon. The good stuff, too. Not the toad-shit you just had.” She pointed a wrinkled digit to the curved sword at my hip, its handle wrapped in well-worn cord.
The damned thing had been a pain in my ass since I found it in an abandoned bunker a couple of years back. It wasn’t a particularly fine sword, but its edge was far superior to the standard steel found throughout the Badlands. A hard-light tempered blade of ancient design and truly unknowable construction; the sword’s edge thrummed silently in the likeness of a waning singing-bowl. It was a neat find, but hardly the high-end old tech I’d seen some of the more prestigious outfits sporting; short-range plasma lancers, nanotech bionics…Real heavy hitting shit.
I rolled my eyes and turned away, “Fuggin Zala.”
***
The streets of the market were always busy; it was the largest settlement on this side of the Dead Canyons, and still growing. Dozens passed through each day, mostly prospectors or displaced villagers from the outskirts of Kutla; the bandits had made a real mess of that region. Refugees, merchants, herders and occasionally mercenaries of various vying factions would pass through on their travels.
I kept to myself for the most part; it was safer that way. People out here were as likely to shoot you in the back as they were to offer you a drink. The only reason people didn't think me a vagrant was the sticker at my side. It marked me as a wandering warrior, a "free agent", though I'd never really taken up the mantle in earnest. I wasn’t a sellsword, but it got me more than a few discounts at the market in the hopes that I’d return the favor or offer a bit of protection should the need arise. Not that it wasn’t without its setbacks. Whenever there was trouble everyone ran to the guy with a sword.
“There’s a brawl down the road! Help!” A messy-maned woman with plump features tugged on my sleeve.
“Hmm?”
I could hear it, the commotion just beyond a few ramshackle storefronts, the clamor of metal and frantic screams and then a voice. An indistinguishable belt more akin to a bone-boar’s bellow than words: Big Boss Gonzo.
Gonzo was as mean as they came, an augmented behemoth of a man with the brain of a child; an easy target to take advantage of if it weren’t for the dozens of bloodthirsty men he surrounded himself with.
"Gah, dammit." I pulled my sleeve away, “Gimme a sec, ya old bird, lemme check it out first.”
It was Gonzo alright, as tall as a lamppost and half as wide, geeked up on androstims and surrounded by a pack of ten goons, give or take. He was an ugly son of a bitch with a nasty looking slab of iron for a lower jaw. I wasn’t shabby with a blade — I’d had to hold my own more times than I’d like to admit — but this was far beyond my pay grade.
They were causing a ruckus, that was for sure, but the object of their fury was what was most perplexing: a woman. It was rare to see another wandering through these parts. She was beautiful in an austere sort of way, with skin that seemed to shine like polished bronze. A pair of feline eyes and dark hair fashioned into a bun atop her head. She wore a long cloak of crimson cloth, with a hood pulled up and over the sides of her face.
She stood perfectly still, as if she were waiting for the storm to pass.
A pair of Gonzo's men approached her, snickering to themselves and one held a small blade that glinted in the sunlight.
She didn't flinch, her expression unmoved by the approaching threat.
The other one spoke: "You hear that, boss? She wants to play!" His voice was shrill, vulture choking on a dead rat.
"Well then let's teach this little bitch some manners!" Gonzo shouted, a wave of laughter passing amongst his entourage.
She moved like the roiling lightning of Kutla, so fast and violent that it made my eyes blur.
The man with the knife screamed and then fell. She'd slashed his wrist with a sharp piece of metal, tearing a jagged tear from shoulder to hip and his insides spilled out in a gruesome pile. The other man hardly had enough time to react before he was struck down. His head rolled onto the dusty ground, a steady fountain of blood oozing from the open wound.
Holy shit.
"Whoa. Holy shit." I heard someone say, as if the thought was contagious. The crowd gasped, the sound rippling throughout the market in an instant.
"Fucking bitch, you're dead meat now." Gonzo roared, slamming a massive fist against his chest. His men echoed his words, their faces red with anger.
Gonzo's men surged forward, a wave of murderous intent. I could smell the acrid odor of sweat in the air. They were afraid, as much as they wouldn't admit it.
The girl moved again, faster than the eye could see, and the next thing I knew four more of Gonzo's men lay on the ground, lifeless. A few others fled in fear, their hands over their heads and tears on their cheeks.
Gonzo bellowed, "You fucking pussies! You're all gonna die! All of you!” The bulbous veins that ran along his neck and extremities swelled into engorged ropes, a cocktail of androstims pumping into his genehanced body through a specialized IV rig attached to his hip.
"I'll rip off your head, bitch, and drink from your neck!" His face was flushed scarlet and his eyes bulged out of their sockets like a feral animal's. He was on the brink of a psychotic break.
The girl raised her weapon, the curved edge of the steel glistening like starlight beneath the uncaring sun. Hardly a dagger yet effective as any hard-light weapon in her deft hands. She moved to attack.
"Woah, woah, woah!” I stepped between the melee, my arms up, palms out. "Stop, stop! There's no need for anyone else to die here!"
Gonzo glared at me, "What the fuck you doing, vagrant? You think you can interfere in our business?" His massive fists flexed at his sides, fingers bent back like claws.
The woman said nothing.
“I just don’t think the good people of this town want to clean up anymore bodies, that’s all.” I was trying to sound diplomatic, but it was a stretch, even to my ears. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to those standing around us.
Gonzo snarled, "I don't give a shit what they want. They're all a buncha spineless pussies, anyway. I say they deserve to clean up a mess or two. Now move, vagrant, if you know what's good for you." He grabbed his crotch, "If you don't, then I'll be happy to show you!"
The woman's brow furrowed, her lips pressed together in a hard line.
I felt my cheeks flush and my heart began to hammer in my chest. I wasn't about to take a threat like that lying down, but I wasn't stupid, either. Dammit.
I palmed the end of my sword, reluctant yet ready to use it. No way I was as fast as this mystery woman — not even in my dreams — but after watching her display I was a little confident that I could take Gonzo, provided I got the jump on him.
Gonzo's nostrils flared, "So, you wanna take my bounty, that it? This cunt is worth more than you know, but now you're dead too, vagrant.”
Shit. “No reason to get crazy. We're all tired and hot and maybe things just got a little outta hand. Let's talk about this before anyone else gets hurt, okay?"
I could hear Gonzo's men snickering behind him. It was clear they weren't interested in talking.
"Fine, you wanna talk? Let's talk." Gonzo lowered his hands and smiled, a wide gap where his front teeth should have been. "I'm gonna beat your ass, then we're gonna fuck your girl here until she bleeds, then I'm gonna kill you. Sound good?"
His men laughed.
“You’re right, you’re right…But how are you gonna shag her without a cock?."
Gonzo's eyes widened in disbelief, "You fuckin—"
I cut him off mid-sentence. Literally.
The superhuman brute screamed like a pig as my blade sliced through the shoddy piece of metal that passed as a codpiece and parted Gonzo from his manhood. There was no honor in it, but then again, I was the one with an intact prick.
He stumbled back, clutching his bloody crotch, and the men behind him looked on in shock, unable to process what had just happened.
The woman was on them in a flash, moving with a speed I could scarcely follow as she dispatched Gonzo's remaining men.
They were dead before they hit the ground, her dagger passing through their throats in a spray of blood and gore.
There was no hesitation in her movement, no fear. She was a monster.
The gang boss was a wreck, lashing out with spastic swings and a flurry of aimless blows. The woman approached, a shuffling specter of crimson silk, her gown pristine besides a few speckled drops of blood.
She moved behind the hulking beast, and for a moment I thought she would retreat, but instead she took her weapon and prepared to plunge it through the dome of his skull. Gonzo lashed backwards in a final, desperate bout of ferocity, missing his target outright but catching the faintest ridge of her cowl. It pulled to the side, and as the mysterious woman landed some several meters away, her secret was revealed.
Like twin daggers, the woman’s ears were long and pointed, a trait unknown to the Badlands and in many’s understanding Hikta as a whole. The stories of ancient beings beyond the scope of human imagination, told of in the tales of the Ascendant cult, flooded my mind. They were the Eywn, a race unlike our own wiped out during the calamity that was The Fall. They were a thing of legend, an ancient enemy of mankind either banished to the heavens or outright genocides by the great civilizations of yore.
But the Ascendant were just mad archeologists and treasure hunters, right? The entire crowd froze, even Gonzo, who himself was too enamored to have foreseen the blade aimed at his throat; the wound sputtered with frothing, viscous blood and the Titan collapsed. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Gonzo was gone, and not just by virtue of death. His bodyguards were dead, his entourage killed. The men and women in his employ scattered to the wind as the last of their willpower was sapped away by the sight of the mysterious woman. She was a harbinger of death, of destruction and fear, but her presence alone filled me with an inexplicable curiosity.
“Who are you? What are you?” I found myself speaking aloud.
Her head turned, her feline gaze locking with my own. Her eyes were piercing, a shade of amber that reminded me of the sunsets over the Badlands; it was hypnotic, beautiful. She said nothing and I wondered if she understood my tongue.
"What are you?" I repeated, this time with more force.
Still, she said nothing, though I saw her eyes soften. Was it pity or sadness? I couldn't tell. She simply reaffirmed her cowl and made for the horizon, certain that her presence in the village would no longer be welcomed. I followed in hot pursuit, both horrified and fascinated by the woman.
She was quick, but I had grown up in these lands and knew every nook and cranny.
"Hey! Wait up!" I shouted, my voice hoarse from the heat.
She did not.
I followed her across the market and into the winding alleys beyond, the girl's pace unflinching as she leapt through the narrow corridors between buildings and into the wilderness beyond. She moved like a blur, her figure disappearing into the distance in mere minutes.
By the time I caught up to her, I found that we were miles beyond the village. The sun was beginning to dip below the distant mountains, painting the sky in a brilliant array of colors. It was a sight I never got tired of, a reminder of a time long passed, perhaps even before The Fall.
“You didn’t let me buy you a drink.” I offered, ever the jester.
The woman turned to face me, her expression blank. She said nothing.
"Look, I know you can understand me, okay? I'm not an idiot." I tried my best to sound sincere, but it was difficult.
I felt like a child, a boy in awe of the world around him, and in many ways, I was. The woman before me was a being of myth, an impossibility made flesh. What other secrets of Hikta did she hold?
"You're one of the...Eywn, right?" I asked, the word alien on my tongue. It was a word seldom said beyond the glow of campfires, its sound forgotten in the sands of time and seldom mentioned in the light of day.
The girl's eyes narrowed, her features growing dark.
"I mean you no harm." I raised my hands, palms out. "It's just, you've been the talk of the Badlands for quite some time, y'know. A few years ago one of the Ascendant said they'd seen a girl with pointed ears wandering the desert, but they weren't sure. Said she looked lost. I thought it was all hogwash until now."
I watched as the woman's expression softened, her brow unfurrowing and her posture relaxing.
"What are you doing here, in Hikta? Why have you come?" I asked.
The woman opened her mouth, then closed it, as if she were struggling to find the words. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft yet strong, like the wind rustling through the dunes at midnight.