Noelle I

I pick up a hunk of metal off the ground. “Forget this crap.” Too old, too rusted, too heavy, and overall useless. Won’t fetch me half a mark. The village of Jalis had been razed well over two weeks ago, so it’s a surprise I even found the golden ring now tightly tucked in my satchel.

The moon doesn’t provide as much light as it did yesterday, and it’d fade every day hereafter. But something doesn’t seem right. It seems even darker than usual, like some sort of tendril is crawling up to it and blocking out its useful glow.

The next house is no better than the last. I need to reconsider scavenging days. Assassinations bring in less money than a good scavenge, there’s no doubt about that. But I could be out taking justice on some damned White Wing right now and earning a good hundred marks instead of finding a fifty mark ring and that’s the end of my haul. I kick at a rock and continue my work, knowing the night isn’t even half done. Maybe I can get lucky one more time and break even.

I dart my eyes around, hoping for the definitive glimmer of gold or silver. Something sparkles between two houses so close together, they almost touch.

The sparkle is a true haul. It’s a bracelet which seemingly is made of pure gold – the type the mayor’s wife might have worn before the city suffered its fate. If I can get a hold of it, it’s at least 200 marks in my name. Madame Rosa might even give me more than its worth in gold thanks to its fine craftmanship. I stand sideways against the first house and straddle between them to get deeper inside.

Or so I wish. My boobs press against the second house, informing me yet again how my body is not designed to fit in these small places anymore. Curse my luck, and curse my age. Three years ago I’d fit in any nook or cranny you could think of, blessed with the wonders of being short and thin. Yet fate couldn’t bless me and keep me small, giving me these massive lumps on my chest. Madame Rosa says they’ll lure men in for easier assassinations. I say they’ll keep me from scavenging.

With no other option, I break off a board from the nearest house. Ah, crap! The damned board scratched me! I hold my hand over the blood creeping on my brown skin, putting direct pressure on it. I’ll have to wrap it later and hope it doesn’t scar. Madame Rosa is right about the importance of keeping my body attractive, since half of an assassination is luring in the target. That’s why I still deal with this long silver hair down my back, even if it does nothing but get in the way usually.

I reach out with the board to the bracelet. It’s long enough, but it’s hardly thin enough to wrap around and pull. It’ll have to do as is. I nudge the bracelet maybe a couple of inches closer before trying again.

A cold breeze kicks up yet again. Why couldn’t the White Wings raze this in July? Granted, the north is never warm, but it’d be at least comfortable at night. I stick my bare left arm deeper inside the narrow alley and wrap my dirty fingers around the bracelet. A success no matter how I slice it.

Maybe I’ll end it here. I’ve quintupled my profits, and this cold is really getting to me. If I want to do anything more, I’ll buy another animal pelt and make a sleeve out of it. Hopefully it’ll be a black bear again to complete this outfit. Its fur keeps out most of the cold, but it’s pretty damn expensive. Hence why my left arm is still bare.

I grip the crystal in my bag. This is the real profit maker. It’s not too hard to steal, but it does mean going directly against a White Wing. Conk them out for a bit, grab a crystal out of the cart, and flee, and you’ll make an easy 600 marks. The Wingless will pay almost anything to use magic, even if one of these will only grant them three uses.

My ears pick up. At first I think it’s only a mew of a cat. Poor thing’ll die in the new week when its food supply runs out. But above the cat’s meow is a pair of voices – women by the sound of it – laughing and joking around. Who would ever be in this ruin? There should be no survivors, with all Wingless either being killed or taken to the City of Angels for further judgment. But scavengers like me don’t want to be seen or heard. Even a novice knows to conceal their voice.

Not only that, but these idiots have a fire going. That means they have no fear of detection.

I creep closer to get a better examination. Unfortunately, this gives me more questions than answers. One of them has wavy shoulder-length black hair and carries a rather large bow. She seems like a normal Wingless, but her clothes seem rather out of place for the north. They cover her body, yet they seem so thin it’s a miracle she hasn’t frozen to death yet.

The other girl is my real confusion. She’s a Wingless, yet she has bright yellow hair like she’s White Wing royalty. They must be renegades, since anybody born blonde in this kingdom is forced to dye their hair a different color.

Yet even as a renegade, she’s weird. She’s wearing some expensive clothes made out of a blue silk, but they hardly cover her body. Her shoulders are bare to the world, as are her legs save her miniskirt and boots. She could easily sell her outfit for a much warmer, but admittedly less stylish one and have a lot left over.

She turns her head, and her golden eyes shine against the moonlight. How can she have golden eyes? Golden hair is a natural trait, but only royalty is born with golden eyes.

There are two options. First, she might obtaining them artificially, which is a crime against the state. My White Wing contact would pay me a good hundred-fifty marks for her head. The second option is unforgiveable, and I must kill her no matter the cost.

I grip Fire in my left hand, and Ice in my right – my twin daggers. They are the only things left from my mother. She had the foresight to leave them in Madame Rosa’s caring hands before the White Wings found her and took her away. Sometimes I worry I’ve forgotten which dagger is which, but their distinctive feels remind me of their identity.

Their names are ironic, to say the least. Fire is cold to the touch and a little longer than the warm Ice. Madame Rosa explained to me once long before of their origin, and how they are named for their reforging methods. For only fire can melt ice, and only ice can squelch fire.

I call upon my inner reserves of magic. I know I can’t cast my shadow magic here, much less anywhere else in Aldridge. But by calling upon them, they somewhat conceal my presence. It’s a much better skill to have than say fire mages, who only make their skin warmer in the attempt.

I rub the magic crystal again. If things get dicey, I’ll use it and get away.

They fail to notice me as I tiptoe behind them. From their conversation, it seems the black-haired girl is named Muriel, and the blonde is named Evelyn. Those aren’t names from around here, and certainly aren’t from my birth home in Avignone. Who are these girls?

If I’m curious enough, I can ask the other girl. She’s not worth the effort to kill. I’d maybe get twenty marks for her bow and five for her clothes. Her information is worth much more.

I’m within striking distance. I lift my dagger high in the air, perfectly in line with the neck. If I thrust this in the right spot she’ll die instantly.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Muriel has notched an arrow and has it aimed straight at my throat. From the way she holds the bow string and takes careful aim, I know there is no way she’ll miss. If I drop my dagger, I will have an arrow through my heart.

Evelyn rolls away from me and gets back on her feet. There goes my opportunity. If not for that bitch with her bow and arrow, she’d be dead at my feet now, a natural profit.

“Who are you?” I demand.

Muriel doesn’t lower her bow. “I should be asking the same thing. You’re the one who stalked up to us with a knife.”

“Are you a Level Four from the kingdom?” asks Evelyn.

I scoff. “Kingdom? What kingdom? You mean the kingdom of the Yellow Herring Inn? Give me a break.”

“I do not know of a Yellow Herring Inn. That means you are a liar.”

Muriel stretches the arrow back a little more. To hold the bow at the ready for so long, she must have well trained arms. “I’ll give you ten seconds to give me your name and purpose.”

I hate wasting two hundred marks, but my life is far more important than this. “Try me.” I grip the magic crystal and feel its power flow through me. The gates of magic, blocked by a wall, flood open. A curtain of darkness blankets the air in front of me so thick it would suffocate you should you try and cross it.

I don’t waste time admiring it and flee. The barrier should stay up for a good hour, which should give me a good lead on them. I’ll have to forget Evelyn’s head and take my rewards while I still can.

Something wraps around my ankle. I crash to the ground and my daggers fly with me, clanging on the hard soil of the road. How can I be so stupid to get tangled up in a house plant?

Yet when I reach down to loosen my leg, it is no plant there. Rather it is a rope made entirely out of light, wrapping around my ankle.

“Impossible!” I shout. But it’s too late as hundreds of other ropes shoot through my barrier and grab my body.

My barrier shudders from the light piercing it, and then shatters like glass. Muriel retrains her bow on me while Evelyn casts yet another shining rope out from her staff. Even with all the problems the wall presents, how can she overcome my barrier? That’s Level Four magic. Nothing should pierce through that.

“You can’t be a Level Five. It’s a myth.” I struggle against my bonds, but there’s no give in them. They form an intricate web around my body, locking every limb in place. The more I struggle, the tighter they get.

Evelyn releases the ropes from her staff – but not my body. “Sure I can. I am the Princess, now the Queen of Northern Aldridge. We are Level Fives by birth.”

Northern Aldridge? “How did you get through the gate?”

Muriel leans down to me. “If you’re asking that, you’re not from Northern Aldridge yourself, are you? Who are you, and where did you come from?”

“I don’t have to answer anything you ask.”

Evelyn motions with her hand, and the bindings squeeze against my body. I can’t breathe!

Nothing good is going to come out of being conflictive. I can answer what they want and get what I want in return. “My name is Noelle. I come from the Inn a little south from here, but my birthplace is Avignone, south of the Wall.”

“Aren’t we south of the Wall already?”

They really must be from Northern Aldridge. The pieces of the puzzle piece themselves together. But I’ve seen the Gate of Heaven in person. Nobody can cross that Gate without the White Wings’ permission.

Let’s give them some useless crap for information, and then maybe they’ll give me what I want. “The wall surrounds Aldridge on three sides. You must’ve cross the northern wall. I’m from south of the southern wall. You probably noticed my skin color already.”

I hold up my arm so they can see its color. It’s a bit of lie in the first place. Yes, the people of Avignone have darker skin and silver hair like me. But the people of Entirin to the southwest of Avignone are pale as the moon’s glow. But they don’t need to know anything more than associating the south with darker skin.

Muriel raises an eyebrow at my response. “Why did you attack Eve?”

I could always tell her I wanted to sell off her emerald, but this girl seems to know my lies too well. I might as well tell her the truth. Maybe I could get her to join my side and still turn a profit. “Evelyn has golden eyes.”

Evelyn slams the butt of her staff on the ground. She has a right to be angry for only being targeted for her eye color. I can’t blame her.

“My name is Eve! Do not call my ‘Evelyn’ like my mother. She is dead already.”

Muriel’s grip on her bow wavers a bit at those words, but Evelyn, or I suppose Eve, stays firm.

Muriel steadies herself. “What do her eyes have to do with anything?”

“Yellow means royalty. So she’s either a Wingless who is trying to emulate the White Wing royals, or she’s the direct descendant of the cursed Queen Silvia and must die for her ancestor’s sins.”

Eve blinks. “Queen Silvia? The first queen of Northern Aldridge? What does she have to do with anything?”

More and more I’m understanding who this girl is. “She’s the one who gave the Wall its power. She’s the reason why we can’t use magic in Aldridge. She’s the reason why the Wingless in here are cursed to either live a life of slavery, or live as bandits.”