A Mix Of Metals

Chapter One (Prologue) : The Arrival

Early Spring of 1658.

The sea had calmed down considerably as they had started approaching the shore. The breeze smelled of damp grass and wafts of cooking meat came and went, in tune with the steady rocking of the small ship.

Mizu pushed against the bow and it creaked slightly under her weight. She looked ahead, her eyes darting here and there, trying to decipher the coast and let out a long and low sigh, relieved at the thought that she would finally set afoot the land again. Yet that feeling was quickly replaced by dread. The dread of a foreign land, the dread of having to find her way and fight to communicate, and without a doubt, the dread of having to start rushing again after the two men she was hunting down. Although a year at sea confined on a small boat had not exactly been a dream, her exhausting pursuit of vengeance had been paused for that time, which had allowed her to rest somehow. The looming feeling of the unknown seemed to come to life in the shape of the electric storm forming above her.

Skeffington, Routely. Skeffington, Routely.

The names were etching themselves in her mind, taunting her almost. As they repeated in a circle, she started whispering them under her breath and her frown darkened with every occurrence. She took her arm in her hand and lifted up her sleeve to find the fine crossed-shaped tattoo with the single dot in one of the spaces. She drew over it slowly with her long and slender fingers and eyed the three other empty spaces. Light drops of rain started pattering on her skin. Turning her head towards the trap door on the floorboard that led down to the hull of the ship, she pictured Abijah Fowler, chained up, run down but resilient.

Fowler.

The sing-songy voice of the captain announcing their mooring snapped her out of her thoughts. Now to the hull, to Fowler.

Mizu slid down through the trap door without a sound and approached the end of the stern, where Fowler's cell was. He was sitting on his overturned bucket, his eyes staring at the floorboards, brow furrowed, lost in deep thought. He looked surprisingly clean for someone who had spent practically a year in a tiny cell. His shaving knife had been meticulously placed on top of a small wooden box, next to a hand mirror. He had clearly been preparing his exit.

As Mizu approached him, he didn't look up but only hissed, "Ah, at last we have arrived, little Miss", making the chains on his wrists clunk.

Mizu looked casually around his cell. "Call me that once again and I'll change my mind about keeping you alive". Fowler let out a long cynical laugh. When he was finished, he eyed her with a cruel grin and uttered through gritted teeth, "You need me, and that fact alone makes your blood coil, doesn't it, Little Miss..."

Her flexible figure suddenly tensed up. In complete silence and measured movements, she reached down in one of her inside pockets, took out the key to the cell and turned the lock, skilfully. Fowler followed her gaze the whole time, right up until she had unsheathed her katana and pressed it firmly across his throat, pushing him up against the wall behind. A thin trickle of blood started oozing from his rugged neck.

Her voice was steady. "I can find my own way, Fowler. I managed to find you cooped up in your castle after all, remember? I could have killed you then and there." Mizu poured her bright blue eyes into his. Although Fowler's were of a similar colour, they had a darkness to them that even Mizu could not fathom. Nevertheless, she didn't budge. Fowler grinned even wider and whispered, "You don't stand a chance here, this place is unforgiveable, and all the more for half-breeds like you."

Mizu let go and pointed the sword down to his heart, letting it rest there while she took in what he had just said. She finally uttered a dry 'outside' and they were up on the deck in the next minute.

The rain had turned into an insistent drizzle. Fowler breathed in the air he was probably so accustomed to and stretched his manacled wrists out above him as best he could. He looked around obnoxiously and bellowed in a sarcastic tone, "Oh Dear England, how I missed you so". As he said this, he glanced towards Mizu, expecting a reaction, but she maintained her gaze straight ahead towards the quay, in a determined and self-composed posture.

"Shut up and move forward," she uttered as she placed her large brimmed hat on her head and tugged on his chain.

They stepped onto the quay, Mizu turned around and nodded curtly to the captain stayed on board. He mirrored her motion and let his gaze rest awhile on both men's backs as they started making their way into the crowd. After a few seconds, he shouted, somewhat stuttering, "I'll... I'll be going back to Japan next Spring!"

Mizu slightly slowed down her steps and turned her ear towards him. The sky ahead suddenly lit up and the deafening thunder struck almost immediately. The rain grew heavier. Mizu continued her path without a word. The captain shook his head lightly as he watched their silhouettes disappear into the blurry streets of Portsmouth.