Jinx

All hail the captain

(Aftermath I)

Zola cried out incensed, when Whisper positioned the Issis woman’s arm over her shoulder to drag her faster towards the bridge. Still in shock, with her ears ringing from the adrenalin pumping in her veins, and the loss of Dante, coupled with the physical exertion making matters worse, the small-bodied Gish hurried the distance to the lip of the wooden bridge, head glancing back to the three scale-armour clad Cataphracts trotting their way and closing in fast.

“Leave me be, you fool!” Zola protested breathing heavy, right leg dragging behind, and the arrow still stuck on it hurting with every stride she took. “Save your fucking self!”

“Arggh!” Jinx growled manically instead of a reply, pushing herself even harder, knees shaking and her vision blurring from the effort. Pale appeared on the bridge’s deck, sword and dagger in hand, just as her boot crossed over, the river’s waters rushing angry underneath.

“Captain?” Victor Hook asked, wrinkles around his mouth even more pronounced than she remembered them that morning and Jinx shook her head right and left, tears pouring out and flying all over at the memory. Pale didn’t say a word, nor blink at that. He just sheathed his dagger, grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved them both past him, with an annoyed grimace.

“Crafton is comin’ to help. He’s right behind me,” He said simply, eyes stilled on the approaching Cataphracts, their stance now cautious, seeing an armed man waiting for them on the bridge, instead of two fleeing injured women. “I counsel ye hurry ‘em legs Pretty.”

“Victor,” Jinx said, gulping down as much cool air as she could, doubled over tired knees. Crafton had taken a still protesting Zola on his shoulders and was hurrying ahead, already across the middle of the bridge. “Ye can’t fight ‘em all.”

Pale spat once over the decking and into the frothing waters, his eyes always on the three Cataphracts that jumped from their horses, not comfortable charging over a bridge that was missing most of its support piers, the floor boards loose and creaking over the onrushing waters. His voice that familiar hoarse, with a touch of sadness laced in.

“Reckon not. It’s about delayin’ ‘em this part. Not winnin’ pink cheeks,” The former outlaw turned mercenary said, sparing her a look, lips split to show a couple of yellow teeth, the rest missing, in what was his first smile in years. “Ye do well, ’memberin’ that.”

“BLOW THE PIER!” Crafton yelled, half-sprinting the last couple of meters dragging Zola with him, showing surprising agility for his age. Jinx thought it funny at first, Soren’s stupefied reaction to them ‘running’ towards him adding to the matter, but then she glanced back the other way and her face fell. Pale was duking it out with two Cofols at the mouth of the wooden bridge, the third armed with a bow standing back, trying to find a good enough angle to skewer him with an arrow.

“DO IT!” Crafton bellowed irate at the undecided Northman.

“DO WHAT?”

Pale pushed a lunge to the side in the meantime, the blade bouncing off the decking, and stabbed a Cataphract at the base of his neck, below the helm. He took a step back, and his opponent fell face first on the floor, blood spurting out a meter high. Managed to block a cut, using both sword and dagger, just as Jinx reached the end of the bridge, stumbling forward from the momentum, arms flailing mad to regain her balance, but mostly failing.

“Hit it wit the sledgehammer for pity’s sake!” An exhausted Crafton admonished the large Northman.

“YE COULD’VE SAID THAT!” Soren retorted loud enough to hurt Jinx’s ears and swung the sledgehammer with all his might at the weakened and pre-cut lip of the pier dislodging it.

Jinx reached solid ground with a tumble, legs twirling end over end, glided another meter or so to find her footing and glanced back with bated breath, just as a loud creaking sound erupted from the fatally wounded wooden bridge.

Pale had kicked the Cataphract between the legs and pushed him back hard, but got an arrow right through his midsection in return from his friend. He tossed the dagger the archer’s way to stop him from firing another and dashed the other way fast as he could, managed to reach the center line in the retreat, when the whole structure started shaking, as if it was coming alive. The once straight bridge started bending, forming a loop that followed the current of the pregnant river.

“RUN VICTOR!” Jinx, her face wet with fresh tears, bellowed as loud as she could in order to be heard, above the sounds of boards creaking and breaking, railing turning to splinters, or simply disintegrating, as whole sections of the bridge’s deck came apart, all adding to the thunderous clamor of massive amounts of water flowing underneath. It was like a huge mountain was coming down. Pale raised his head and looked her way, when her words reached his ears, right behind him the Cataphracts scrambling like mad to get off the collapsing bridge, lips split apart in what was either the start of an answer, or the end of a resigned sigh.

Then he was gone and fifty meters of bridge went along with him, turning to grey froth, black-green waves and undefinable debris that got swallowed up in an instant.

Oh, fuck me, Jinx thought recoiling, as if she just got hit in the stomach. All other sounds had seized, other than the river breathing. It was loud and garish, but to her it sounded the same as silence.

Deafening and tasting of the macabre.

“Where’s Dante?” Soren asked her, half an hour later. A group of the survivors had gathered on the side of the road, leading to where the bridge over Teid River once stood. Most were too shell-shocked to even move, but few had already left in an attempt to reach Altarin as soon as possible. Jinx glanced at Zola, the Issir had her back on the trunk of a tree and both hands on her face, shoulders shaking, before answering.

“He didn’t make it.”

She almost didn’t recognize her own voice.

“What about Glen?” Soren probed, still carrying that sledgehammer he’d used on the bridge earlier, saving them and killing Pale in the process. Jinx closed her eyes almost in despair, the recent events too hurtful to even consider.

“I don’t know, where he is,” She replied, trying to remember where she’d seen him last. Back at the fort. Where was Glen?

Soren scrunched his face, not liking her answer. A part of his beard was missing, the left side up to his sideburns, singed away by the fire that had destroyed the barricade and it made him look plain weird, Jinx thought.

“He made it out,” Liko said, skin almost black from the fumes and dirt he’d gathered during the day. “Glen is smart.”

“Aye, he is.”

That was Soren, with the vote of confidence. Jinx had no idea, if smarts were enough to get Glen out of the Fort, or across the river.

The amount of smarts also in consideration.

She got up and walked towards Zola, sat down beside her and looked straight ahead, the woman’s sniffling making her uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” Jinx offered after a while.

“What for?” Zola asked, her voice a whisper.

“Dante.”

“It was his decision, Pretty.”

“I should have stayed and helped,” Jinx said sighing.

Zola scoffed at her words.

“How? Then we’d all be dead. You think he’d preferred that?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Jinx watched as Soren gave the sledgehammer to Liko, the weight of the tool dragging the boy down, when he attempted to swing it aiming for the large man’s knee. It was a miracle he missed.

They had to move on somehow, she thought, returning to the problems at hand, Zola’s next words almost inaudible.

“What?”

“Dante wanted you to save me,” Zola repeated, her words. “He knew you’ll be fine.”

Jinx stared at her friend, all serious. “I wouldn’t have left you back, Zola. You know how I feel, even if ye pretend you don’t.”

The Issir closed her eyes and pushed her head on the trunk behind her.

“You are so thick sometimes, Whisper.”

“I weigh less than ye, honey.” Jinx teased, but it came out a bit lame.

“Gods you’re selfish.”

“How is that selfish?”

Zola let out a big sigh, as if she'd run out of patience.

“We were fucking,” She said simply, at the end of it.

Jinx blinked and swallowed slowly, trying to find something witty to say, but finding nothing. Zola opened an eye and stared at her sour expression.

“I wanted to tell you, but he didn’t let me. You know why?”

“Twas an onetime thing?” Jinx chanced, not in the mood for more details.

“Nay, it wasn’t. He didn’t want you hurt,” Zola explained patiently. “You can take care of all crazy things, Whisper. But emotionally, you’re still a kid.”

“And you’re a cunt,” Jinx said, through her teeth, wanting to punch her in the face.

“Whisper, you’re proving my point–”

“Oh, fuck you honey,” The Gish cut her frustrated and jumped up. “I loved him as much as you and knew him for way longer, than yer patronizin’ arse!”

Zola opened both her eyes and glared at her. “You’ve no idea, what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I do. I’ve sucked as much cock as you, Zola,” Jinx said, looking around to avoid seeing her face. She didn’t want to start ugly crying in the middle of this particular conversation. “But I tried to keep it, outside the Company.”

Soren saw her approach, fuming like a well-used burning stove in winter and moved to intercept her, a question in his eyes.

“Not in the mood, big guy,” Jinx hissed.

“For what?” Soren asked, with a frown.

Jinx puffed out, the side of her mouth curling upwards, to push an annoying curl out of her left eye.

“It’s a fuckin’ expression,” She elucidated. “What do you want?”

“Crafton wants to come wit us,” The Northman explained. “The kid as well.”

“How is this my concern?”

“The captain is dead.”

Jinx snorted, his words a slap in the face.

She scratched her forehead for a long moment with a finger, under Soren’s intense scrutiny, while thinking about it.

“Am I the longest servin’ now?”

Soren shrugged his shoulders.

She was apparently. All hail the new fuckin’ captain!

“Okay, so what do ye want?”

“Crafton wants to come wit us,” The Northman repeated. A tick appeared on Jinx’s right eye and she had to smack it right, too much force turning it into a stinking slap that made her ear ring.

“Arggh!” She cried, the pain another shock to her system.

“Are you okay?”

“Aye!”

“So Crafton—” Soren started again, but she stopped him, her voice coming out a screech.

“What… can he do?”

Soren scratched the unburned side of his beard thoughtfully.

“Cook?”

Good grief.

“Nah, it ain’t that,” She corrected him.

“He’s good wit numbers,” Soren offered, with a grimace.

He’s probably a thief is why, Jinx thought eyeing the unsavory duo, Glen had brought into the fold. The thought of him, souring her mood even more. Come on ye deaf n’ stupid fuck, she urged him. Show yerself, I need some help here!

“Fine,” She relented. “He can join. You’ll fix the paperwork later.”

“What paperwork?” Soren asked, rather confused.

Jinx smacked her lips. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Sure thing boss,” Soren replied, relief evident and turning gave a thumbs up to the expecting duo. An excited Liko started running around screaming his delight at the news and it would take them a good half hour to calm him down. By that time Jinx had already a plan forming in her head on how to lead the Gallant Dogs forward.

Whatever was left of it anyway, she thought with a sad smirk, her eyes on Glen’s leather satchel and the box containing the huge egg she’d found. First order of business was rather simple really. Since there was no way in Uher’s Hells, Whisper Jinx was going to assume responsibility for everything happening from here on out, this needed to be done.

“What is?” Soren asked and Jinx flinched scared out of her tits, not realizing she was talking aloud all this time.

She cleared her throat a couple of times, glaring at Zola and blinking surprised, when Liko winked at her, big toothy grin on his mouth, but for a couple of gaps, before replying with her chest pushed out, assuming Dante’s nonchalant manner.

Using a fine blend of half-truths and outright lies.

“Gallant Dogs will never abandon a contract,” Captain Jinx said. “So in light of this, we must do our outmost, to find Glen.”