The Spirit of Wrath

Chapter Two: Diamonds in the Rough

It was the third week since Narcissa and Alkela had run away from the District of Red Lamps. Narcissa, at least, was beginning to regret it. They existed wholly to please Zigildrazia. They'd been told that by the gleaming red runes on every street corner. So why had they run away?

Had Zigildrazia willed that?

Right now, they were eating some bread that Narcissa had managed to snatch for the both of them. As she ate, Narcissa looked up at Alkela. Her twin was eyeing her with resentment. Her hair was a mess, and Narcissa hated how the dirt ruined her complexion. Matron Zarana had always kept them looking nice. Now, they probably looked terrible.

"Don't give me that look," said Narcissa. "Stealing food is hard. I know that if we don't get enough of it, it'll affect our appearance. But what other choice do we have?"

Alkela kept on looking.

"I know that Zigildrazia wants us to be beautiful," said Narcissa. "But she also wants us to follow the rules. If we return, Matron Zarana will have us break Zigildrazia's laws."

Alkela looked down at the ground, and they finished their meal in peace. Then, suddenly, there was a low snarling. Narcissa's neck hairs stood on end, and she grabbed Alkela by the hand, leading her out of the alley.

Even as she did so, something rushed after them. Risking a glance back, Narcissa saw a raishan. It was a hulking beast in the form of a lizard, and flames breathed from it after them. She pushed Alkela down and put herself over her sister as the fire went over them. Sweat dripped from Narcissa as she gazed up in horror. The creature loomed over them.

There were no guards around to save them. What was it doing out here in daylight?

There was no time to find the answers. No time to run. The beast lunged.

And then it stopped. The creature choked visibly as a foam of blood poured from its mouth. It keeled over, and as it did, the top of its head slid off. As the corpse faded away, Narcissa saw him.

He took the form of a suit of armor. Those worn by the samurai of ancient Kalthak. It was as black as night, and a hateful mask was on the front. Yet beyond the mask, there was no face, only a spectral pink flame. Clutched in one gauntlet was a sword that made her heartbeat just to look at it.

She knew him, she thought. Perhaps she had always known him. Lord Garacel.

"Who... who are you?" she gasped.

"I am Garacel." said the spirit, sheathing his sword. His voice was like metal.

Narcissa stood up and pulled up Alkela. They had to look their best. "Garacel? You mean... Do you mean you're the Seeker of Her Radiance? The champion of Zigildrazia? That legendary warrior who has killed entire armies?"

"I am," said Garacel. "I have not been to Zigilus in nearly a hundred years. Although the world has changed much, it has changed little. I expect she prefers it that way."

"Thank you, my Lord," said Narcissa, bowing. "Well, uh... we'll-"

"Stay where you are," said Garacel. "What are your names?"

Why was he asking? Did he desire them? They didn't look very nice now, and he was Zigildrazia's primary subordinate. Was he breaking the rules? "I am Narcissa. And this is my sister Alkela."

Narcissa looked down.

Garacel came forward, forcing her eyes to his mask with one cold gauntlet. "Where are your family?"

"We don't have any, Lord Garacel," said Narcissa. "Our parents sold us to Matron Zarana to pay off their debts."

"I see," said Garacel. "Where do you seek shelter?"