A Boy, a Dog Girl and the Night of Remembrance Lanterns: Part One

“Interesting…”

He watched them from across the river. Chistos and his girl flew in on their rug, jumping from it and rushing towards the boy and the dog girl before it was close to the ground. He asked for an explanation and the boy hurriedly gave the old man one, holding the dog girl close to him. Even from his vantage point he could see the concern on the wizards face. He ushered them towards the rug, the girl taking care of the dog girl, helping her up.

Chistos then turned, and for a brief moment he thought he had been spotted. Panic surged before he remembered. Even if the wizard was looking right at him, he looked like an ordinary pedestrian.

The moment passed. Chistos stepped onto the flying carpet and it rose gently into the air, flying towards their home and the safety it contained. He waited until it disappeared behind the furthest building before moving. The night had certainly been far more eventful than he had anticipated.

The boy and the dog girl were the key. He was sure of it after seeing not only the girl’s shocking transformation and sudden magic usage, but the care Chistos showed her.

“I would bet you treat the freak show better than your own kid, don’t you old man?” he grunted to himself as he began to walk along the river.

The night had started as simple reconnaissance. He had heard from his source how the children Chistos had taken care of would be going out alone. He was lucky he had trained his mind to be so patient, as he wanted to kill them as soon as he saw them.

Good things come to those who wait, however.

The walk back to the warehouse was long and tiring, but he was far happier in the open air than in one of the steel monstrosities powered by magic these people used.

People. The thought was honestly laughable.

People obeyed the rules of nature. People couldn’t crack the planet in half, plunging the world into war after war. People didn’t create massive warning bells to protect the world from themselves. The creatures around him looked like people. They even, he conceded, felt emotions like people.

But they were not people.

The man lighting his pipe from a fire he spewed forth from his fingertips. The woman who created colored art from the water she manipulated from the fountain. The acrobats dressed like clowns who jumped in between portals set up in luggage and boxes they had positioned around their staging area.

He did not hate them. This was important to remember.

He simply needed them dead.

Chistos most of all.

But such thoughts could wait for later. He passed into the working class area of the city, waterfront restaurants and apartments giving way to the shipyards which serviced river boats traveling through the city. He was amused by this place. Even all powerful wizards had a lower class.

And he heard the spawn of Chistos was among their number.

It was hilarious.

He knocked hard on the old metal door along the side of the warehouse, the alley dark and stinking of rust and age. The door creaked and rattled as he pounded, the code he used indecipherable unless someone knew they were supposed to be listening for a code.

“Did you enjoy spying on children?” his partner asked as he opened the door, quickly closing it to avoid prying eyes.

“You always phrase things in the least flattering way,” the man said as he wove through the crates in the warehouse.

“Oh, forgive me for making the murderous thief seem worse than he is,” his partner said, bowing theatrically. “It isn’t like we had a difficult time getting this and ourselves past the wall guards and I’ve been stuck in here for days while you set up our cover. Oh, wait, silly me! Those are the exact circumstances of my life!”

“Such a whiner…” the stalking man grunted. His partner did have a point, though. Infiltrating Bell’s South had required meticulous planning as well as the deaths of several men. Granted, most of those men had been hardened criminals believing they were about to ransack the city. “Anyways, you do still go out to guard the wall.”

“Only to maintain our cover. You’ve already staged the death of the guard you disguised yourself as.”

The plan had worked flawlessly so far. He convinced a group of thieves, rogues and scoundrels he had a secret way of infiltrating Bell’s South. When the attack resulted in a commotion at the gate, he and his partner killed two of the guards they had scouted, both loners with no family. Some quick potion use allowed them to bypass the cyclops statues by faking the life signs of the guards. He had faked the death of the man he impersonated and his partner would soon do likewise, separating them so as not to arouse suspicion. Then it was off to their new identities for the next stage of the plan.

“I nearly didn’t smuggle this guy in,” his partner said, crossing his arms, looking pleased with himself as they stopped before a particular open crate which rose ten feet tall. “They finally let me through after I assured them I would hook them up with some of the Brams liquor inside. Heh, if only it did have liquor…”

“What we have is better, my friend,” he said, running his hands along the chest of the man staked to the slab of stone. Four large spikes pierced his arms and legs, restraining the lifeless body against the ancient rock. If he didn’t know the man was well over a thousand years old, he’d swear he was twenty.

“You’re sure about this? We may end up dead as well.”

“I don’t care about my death. Only the death of the man who ruined my family.”

His partner walked away, leaving Skabbart with the source of his retribution.