Deluge

Chapter 1

Kara counted the number of boxes. Four to the left in the dimly lit hold of the ship and seven on the right. 

Much less than the twenty-five in total from two weeks ago.

They'd started to dwindle the number of supplies and the citizens of Dargil were already short strapped for precious resources, which meant that she would certainly face competition from others like her. 

Her worn down boots squeaked against the rusty wooden floor, creaking with the simplest shift in weight. Her eyes pierced the hold, darting from end to the other to make sure that the hold was empty. Not that it wouldn't have any reason not to be. Most of the sailors and travellers would have left the ship, finding their comfort at the famed brothels of Dargil. 

The new shipment of food from the capital Makara to the outskirts of Dargil would be the last of the week, so she had to make sure that she wouldn't lose anything less than she could carry. Getting caught wasn't an option and she wasn't going to be made an example of for the others by the guards. 

She stepped out of the shadows into the light. Assessing the box, she could tell that she'd have to break the box silently and gather what she could from the contents. Her leather belt had a variety of tools sharpened in the fires of the valley of Dargil. Nicking a hook or two from travelling sailors arriving at the coast meant that she could crack it open marginally, reach into the box and grab whatever lay first. 

Getting to work, she heard a creak as she jammed her hook and pushed against the lid, lifting it just enough for her to get her hand into it. She stuffed her hand into the box, eyes drifting to the dimly sit stairs leading upwards to the deck. 

She was quite sure she heard some bustling upstairs. 

Creeaaak.

She hurried, fingers grasping a packet of onions at the top. A packet of fruits wrapped in paper. Some poultry tightly bound in a basket. She laid it all on a pile in front of her, stuffing it into the folds of her clothes. She'd had this made specifically for herself by a skilled wielder, a conventional weaver of mystical abilities, who'd found the perfect science to distribute the weight across the body so she wouldn't feel the weight, a trait very hard to come by in Dargil. 

Most of them had been sent to the Phrontistery for Makarian Special Abilities to hone their talents in the mystical discipline. Of course, Makara needed such people to fight its wars for them. 

As she secured the packages under her robes, she heard the footsteps get much closer. If she'd get caught, she would surely lose the palm of her hands. She decided that she'd rather preserve her limbs before she turned twenty the next day, and so she got to work.

Kara dived stealthily as the sound of keys rattling sent her into overdrive, silently scaling the distance between the crates and the small exit, slinking outside in the twilight of night. The ship was rocking gently now, as the tide moved in. 

Her stomach pressed into the hull of the ship, grasping the tiny little hooks along the front. She hesitated to look down into the water. Her knuckles pressed tightly, grasping the hooks. She moved gingerly, resisting the urge again to look into the water. 

She cursed as the ship rocked slightly, continuing nevertheless. She grunted softly as she reached her palm out to grasp another hook, the very last one. She jumped, landing on the wooden floor perfectly on her knees. 

Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked past the deserted dock towards her city. 

--

"What, no spice this time?" 

Kara's head shot up as Aric slyly questioned her, a smirk playing across his perfect lips. He looked gods-smackingly gorgeous today, like he did almost everyday, with his blonde hair tied behind his head and his khaki pants dipping dangerously low. The lack of an upper garment wasn't lost on her. He had her gift of a seashell necklace lying on his collar. 

His mischievous Zarnath-sea blue eyes twinkled as he sifted through her pilage, stopping at the collection of fruits she'd been able to lift. He looked up at her, unimpressed, leaning forward over the counter of his little trade shop, his eyes boring into hers intently. 

Aric was her one regret who she wished she could stop running into. She'd let him go after she discovered that she wasn't the only female lining his coffers and other things every week. 

Unfortunately for her, she was also contractually dependent on him for the precious few Lumes she got for thievery. Aric being her trader was a slight inconvenience she'd wanted to get out of for months. However, he was the only one offering competitive commissions in the whole valley, particularly for her innovative and highly illegal skills. 

"There's no spice this time. Only eleven crates in total, compared to the twenty five from weeks ago." She told him, maintaining his gaze. 

She drew her dagger under the folds of robe on her arms. Something about him was unsettling- and more than usual. 

"I know you've wanted out of our arrangement for a while, Karnage. So I'm offering you a way out. The whole yield for a 20% discount... and you never have to see me again." 

Kara didn't even hesitate. 

"Sounds absolutely perfect." 

Aric smiled, chuckled and winked at her. 

He grabbed all the fruits, the poultry, and dropped a 30 Lumes bill on the table. He whistled, a sharp piercing sound and turned his back towards her. 

"Then I'm under no obligation to protect you anymore. You know, Karnage... you're the smartest thief I've ever met. Even so, you're pretty stupid." 

Kara turned around to leave to find that the raggedy door was blocked by two burly officers. 

Son of a bitch. 

He'd sold her out to a fucking officer for a few more Lumes. Worse, she'd be going for his crimes in illegal trading as well. 

The first one stepped forward, his mustard cap shadowing his face in the dingy light of Aric's shop. She stepped back, drawing her dagger out of her robes. Thievery was a serious crime in the Empire. She knew she would pay for it dearly.

He raised both his palms, wielding the elements around him. His forearm was branded with the official seal of Makara, a flame rising out of embers overshadowed by the emblem of a wolf. She felt the invisible force of the air around her crushing her palms, causing her to drop her dagger in pain. Her hands clasped together, unmoving and with the weight of the crushing power of air binding them together. 

She cried out, as the second officer stepped forward and twisted his palm at her. Her knees dropped, the compulsion of pain in her joints wearing over her. They stepped forward and handcuffed her. They hefted her up, her knees struggling to recover under the everlasting weight of the wielder's powers.

Her head drooped down as they dragged her out of the shop. 

"Kara Selene, you're under arrest for thievery and illegal trading. You will be brought to Makara immediately where you will face the Imperial Office. May your fate be merciful." 

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