The Gondolier
Black with carmine red, and a pale ivory goddess to protect her from the bow, the gondola shone, new and polished in the afternoon sun. The young gondolier pushed off the pier with his beechwood oar, setting himself into the canal. He wondered if he will have much work tonight.
The city lights where just flickering to life as the young man rushed towards the main canal. He was alone on the water, for very few of the gondoliers still worked in the late hours, especially since the Unease that swept the city many years ago, decimating the populous. Barely any work in the day was to be had, and the night was even worse. These were eerie times, that was certain. The Sovereign took to the protection of the city, and the Grand Church jumped in to make sure no beasts, nor devils, disturbed the peace. Devils, ghouls and moving shadows. The rulers of the night, as the tales would be whispered beside warm hearths.
Only one other gondolier, and a slightly larger Sentry boat passed him as he made his way over to the Western Confluence. Not much chance for finding work there, but he was going to make his rounds tonight where he pleased. It was the maiden voyage of the new boat, after all. Might as well show her the city from the bottom up. Sometimes, rarely, someone would need a quick fare over the Great Channel, and would pay a hefty sum for a job done quickly and quietly. And if he was anything, it was quiet. Not once since he was a young boy had the Sentry stopped his old boat for inspection. And this one even though larger, felt to him like it made no sound in the water. The craftsman did a fine job indeed. Half of the night went by and cold winds started blowing when, from a deep dark corner of a small canalway, a rot of a creek alley, a man waved at him. The young gondolier barely saw him in the dark. Might be his luck turns still. Coming closer to a small street pier, he noticed that the man was accompanied by yet another. A woman, a young one, and as gorgeous as the break of dawn. She wore a white evening gown, with a pattern of red petals, a red sash around her waist and a bright red ribbon in her enticing golden locks. The gentleman nodded to the young gondola driver, and helped his charming date onto the boat, her step light as if she weighed none. He practically floated over himself, and sat on the deck bench next to the lady, telling the driver to bring them over to the northern edge of town, passed the Grand Cathedral. The gondolier climbed his pedestal and pushed the boat off. Towards north. Towards the church. And the giant graveyard that laid across that eerie trench of water.
The gondoliers always claimed that the creek that cut the sacred grounds had been cursed by the four devils themselves. No boat, save for a few sentries and ferries carrying cargo ever went there, and even those men would only stay on the confluence with the Western Waterway and even that only during the day. The boy wondered to himself if the night really carried all those frightening specters.
As the gondola floated next to the ridge where the cathedral stood high over the waters, a fog descended, slight and unobtrusive but still eerie enough to make the young man shiver.
The graveyard finally came into view. It was a hill speckled with gravestones and shrines and pillars. Empty, but for the small Chapel at the very top, giving off a faint glow through one of the upper windows illuminating... nothing. The young man felt a dreadful sense of cold, not as much on his skin, but rather somewhere within, as if he'd been out in the frigid air far too long, unable to ever feel warm again. He kept pushing. When they passed the holy mound where the Cathedral stood, and got deep into one of the creeks that lead into the graveyard, the man rose. The black cloak covered his slumped form all the way down to the ankles, and his pale face popped even more in contrast to his long raven hair. The boy helped the girl up and and she stared, not at him, but through and into the distance, her eyes only half open, a serene expression on her face.
