The Carrion's Craft

Chapter 1

Haul Crio was like any other city, bland, damp, and sprawling. High rise buildings and old run-down shops slathered the landscape whilst neon lights dazzled passers-by. It reminded me of my brother's old toys. Only that, instead of delicately placing the shapes into the correct holes, the powers-that-be were more content with jamming their toys where they didn't belong. The result was a mix of dense streets, narrow alleys and a suffocating atmosphere made no better by the persistent smog from the nearby factories and chemical plants.

We passed one now actually, a narrow building with cracked bricks squeezed itself between a corner shop and a church. A sickly yellow sign flickered behind me in the night's mist. the words "Powder's Comfort" buzzed as lifeless as the prayers next door on Sunday's service. But that was not our priority for the night. Instead my ears were perked to the clicking of high heels ahead of me, just within the mist and out of sight.

Checking my watch, I barely stifled a yawn as I noticed that it was eleven twenty-three. We had been walking for thirty minutes and we were yet to reach our destination. Prior to this, my partner, Drenin, and I had been observing our target, a wealthy lady by the name of Elisa Stragard, before she had even left her home at Sun height's garden. But now here we were, quietly trapsing down the hill and into the poorer districts of the city until even I could recognise the local landmarks.

Drenin led us across the wide cobbled streets, his squared hand directed us to the right, past the Firelight Inn and onto Happy lane. Despite its name, the place was anything but cheerful. Belonging to one of the poorest districts in the city. The Mud Realm District was perhaps the most powerful artery of misery to course through the foot of the hill. For every nursery, home, and grassroots charity, that attempted to salvage the neglected area within the dingy confides of the crooked buildings on the verge of falling down, a den of despair and artificial joy would most definitely out number them three to one.

We both seemed to catch on to this. For the briefest second, Drenin's red eyes glanced at me before he continued forward. The most that could be done was to gently pat the poor brute's back as we continued along the littered streets. But where was Stragard going? A woman walking through the Mud Realm alone at night? A noble like her stuck out like a sore thumb, among the jittery silhouettes of the inhabitants who roamed the streets and loitered under doorways to drug dens and brothels. The more we followed, the more it seemed that our client had been right all along. The very idea was regrettable, saddening even. Not just for them, but for us as well.

Hurrying past a howling beggar sprawling across a coach stop, Drenin finally allowed us to stop. His well-clipped fingers barred me from proceeding further. Waiting in silence, my curiosity was gnawing away at me. Had Stragard made it, or were we going to turn back? Somewhere across the road, a door slammed shut, and Drenin breathed a sigh of relief.

"Took her long enough." He whispered in a gruff voice. He stood close to me, his burly figure bulged from the mist as he leant forward. His bug-like eyes shimmered against his dark skin. If it wasn't for a pink light covering him in a warm light, it would have been difficult to make him out in the dark backdrop of the night. Wayward dust-realmers loitered in the fog behind him, like lost souls in search of a fistful of peace. 

"She go in somewhere?" I asked. A genuine feeling of relief erupted within me upon hearing my own voice.

"Aye. She went into that apartment there. Question is why?" He pointed into the void across the street. A couple squares of dim yellow lights floated in the open air, yet no building could be made out.

"Maybe her daughter was right after all - about an affair?" My words tumbled out. After feeling like an idiot for expecting to make out any new detail within the dark, I felt like my mouth ought to compensate.