Chapter 4:

Chapter Four

A Whisper in Scarlet


“Ven. Wake up.”

Someone was shaking her.

Syrvena opened her eyes, then flinched at the sunlight pouring in through her bedroom window. It was well past sunrise, and the daily bustle of the town rumbled gently outside. Mother stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips.

“Are you going to get up sometime today, you lazybones?”

Ven yawned and stretched. She must have been a lot more tired than she’d realized. She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier?”

Mother smiled and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Because I knew there was no chance of getting you to do anything useful until now. I know how you are after a festival night.” She said. “Don’t worry, I had help.”

Oh right, the festival. How could I have forgotten so easily?

Then again, she HAD just woken up, and was generally a useless groggy mess until she got moving. But… still. She remembered getting ready last night. She’d dressed up like a demon spirit. But after that…. What? She tried to remember, but only drew up a blank. That’s… weird.

“Breakfast is waiting on you. If you hurry it won’t be cold.” Mother said. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Ven nodded, still partially lost in thought. She finally slid out from under the covers, and noticed that she was still wearing her costume. She must have been exhausted to not even have the energy to change out of it. She threw off her clothes and pulled a fresh pair of trousers and a tunic from the drawer chest at the foot of her bed. Once reclothed, she slid on her slippers and headed towards the kitchen.

As she walked, she continued to mull things over. Something felt off. Why couldn’t she remember anything about last night? She hadn’t had any of Maribell’s pumpkin wine, had she? She’d done that once, and had apparently thrown her clothes off and danced around the town square in her smallclothes until her mother had drug her back home by the ear. She couldn’t remember that night either.

Something wet splattered gently against her forehead. She stopped, puzzled, and wiped at the moisture with her fingers. It was water. She looked at it in confusion, then looked up to see where it came from.

Another droplet hit her square in the eye. She flinched away and grumbled as she rubbed at it. Another droplet plopped against the top of her head. Where were these things coming from? Then another hit the end of her nose. Clearly there was a leak where she was standing. She moved a few paces to the side, and looked up to try and find the source of the leak. Two more large droplets fell directly into her eyes, and when she opened her mouth to curse at them, another large one landed on her tongue. It was warm, and salty, and metallic, and she gagged involuntarily at it as she spit it out.

A string of blood left her mouth and hit the wood floor of the upstairs landing with a soft splat. Ven’s eyes widened, and she involuntarily took a step backwards from it. What… what was that?

Something started to itch on her arms and legs. Barely noticeable at first, but within seconds it felt like they were covered with insect stings. This feeling spread to her body, and within moments the itching intensified to stinging, and then burning.

“Mother! Mother! Help me! Something’s happening to me!”

There was no response.

Her stomach began to ache, then throb, then burn with such agony that she screamed and crumpled to the floor. Something was in her throat. She coughed and gagged and more blood shot from her mouth onto the floor.

Oh gods. Am I dying? But why…?

Unable to keep herself together any longer, Ven flopped onto her back, staring blankly up at the ceiling as she drowned in pain and waited to die.

Then another fat water droplet hit her in the eye, and she woke up.

The ceiling overhead had a burned out hole in it. More than one, actually. She could see the pinpricks of stars shining through the charred gaps in some of the boards, and water dripped lazily from some of them as though it had recently rained. Flickering light danced around on the ceiling, and a fire crackled somewhere nearby.

As she stared up at the holes to the sky, another water droplet hit her in the eye, and she groaned. She went to wipe the moisture out, and let out an involuntary cry as a dozen searing points of pain flared to life across her torso and arm. She dropped it back to her side as the remains of the water in her eyes mixed with tears of pain.

“If you tear those stitches, they will be very difficult to replace.” A voice said somewhere behind her. It was low, and rough. Ven started, sending another chorus of pain across her body. She gasped at it. She’d never felt anything so painful.

The owner of the voice stood up from wherever they were. Bootsteps thumped over to within a few paces of her, and a large man dressed in black came into view. He dropped himself to the floor beside her, and appraised her. He may once have been handsome, but life had clearly been hard on him since then. He was in his late thirties or early forties, with close-cut dark hair streaked with grey. A jagged white scar cut from beside his nose across his lips to his chin, and another ran from forehead to cheek through one of his eyebrows. Judging by the looks of it, his nose had also been broken a few times, and his ears were both notched in places and bore cauliflower scars.

But none of this drew attention like his eyes did. Ice grey and piercing, with a searing intensity that instantly made Ven want to avert her eyes. He looked at her for several long moments before extending a cup towards her.

“Drink.” He said.

Ven looked at the cup, then up at him, hoping her gaze was question enough and she wouldn’t have to ask what it was.

“Poppymilk. It will numb the pain and help you sleep.” He said, his hand unmoving.

Ven ignored the cup in his hand, and locked eyes with him again.

“Who are you?” She asked.

The man held her gaze for long enough to make Ven squirm before he spoke again.

“My name is Eujin Vast.” He finally said, softer than she would have expected.

Ven froze. She knew that name. Everyone knew that name. Eujin Vast was a legend. A myth. A monster who hunted other monsters, and men who acted like them.  Old Havard used stories about him to scare the little children into obeying their parents.

Oh snap out it! You don't actually believe that, do you?

She shook herself out of it, and looked at him with as much skepticism as she could muster. He was clearly lying.

“Eujin Vast is a fairytale. Who are you, really?” She asked.

The man smirked softly.

“A fairytale. Well, that’s a new one.”

He set the cup down on the floor and walked back out of sight in the direction of the fire. He grabbed something and walked back, taking a seat back on the ground across from her. He held something long in one hand, wrapped in dark, patterned cloth.

“Tell me, boy, if you know the stories about Eujin Vast, then you surely know about his sword.” He said, resting the long object in his lap.

Ven frowned at him.

“I’m a girl! How could you not tell?”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“Well forgive me, miss. You lacked the traits I typically associate with womenfolk when I bandaged your wounds, so I assumed.” He said.

Ven blushed furiously as she scowled at him and pulled her tunic further closed. This elicited another wave of searing pain from her arms and stomach that she pointedly did her best to ignore. Yes, she had short hair. Yes, she had what her mother called a “nymph’s body”. Yes, she liked crawling around in the dirt and scrambling up trees, but she did NOT look like a boy!

The man snorted at her reaction.

“Answer the question, girl.”

Ven glowered at him, then rattled off what she knew like she was reciting a lesson.

“Everyone knows about his sword." She said. "He carries a sword with a blade crimson like blood that never needs sharpening. Some stories claim it was forged in the time before time from the remains of a fallen star. It’s called the Scarlet Whisper.”

The man nodded.

“And why is it called that?”

“Because it’s said to be so sharp, the only sound a man can make when it cuts him down is the scarlet whisper of the blood leaving his body.” Ven said flatly.

“You don’t believe it’s real.” The man said. He seemed amused by that, which only served to irritate her more.

“Of course I don’t! I’m not a child. Or a simpleton. And I don't believe you're Eujin Vast either.” Ven said.

“Alright then.” He said.

What happened next was so fast it took several seconds of staring at the aftermath for Ven to piece it all together.

The man grabbed the metal cup he’d offered her earlier and tossed it over their heads. As it lifted into the air, he unfurled the fabric bundle in his lap to reveal a gloss black scabbard. With a snap of his wrist, he flicked a crimson blade free. It lopped the metal cup clean in half, sending sticky white fluid all over the floor between them. With one final flourish, he spun the blade around and thrust it clean through both halves, spearing them onto the blade before sticking it point-first into the ground in front of him.

The man smiled as he rested his hands on the pommel of the sword between them.

“How about now?”