"Jewels" | Daikid, Tjaiki
“How long will it take?”
“As long as necessary. When the transaction is complete you will be paid. Do not return until then.” The portly merchant rose from his chair and beckoned to the door. “If my friend trusts you, then so do I. Do not disappoint.”
Daikid (dah-KEED) tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement and left without a word. He strode through the crowded and dusty market near the border of Kahlderra and Ina Tathen, avoiding both the sumptuously clothed merchant-lords and the filthy beggars. A street hawker snatched at his arm, but he twisted free without pausing.
He arrived at the outskirts of the market and slipped into a small, dark building. For a moment the only object visible was a lantern set in the center of a table. As Daikid’s eyes adjusted, roughly two dozen large cloth sacks were revealed set against a wall.
“Are you the escort?” A woman stood in a corner of the room, robed in traditional Kokkan style.
“Yes. Are you Nupan Tjaiki?”
“Aye.” She clasped both hands and bowed.
Daikid did not return the gesture. “When do we sail? I can be ready within the hour.”
“We leave two hours before dawn. Go to the pier and walk three miles north.”
“Excellent. I will be there. Do you have your disguise? And is the boat ready?”
“Of course. These gems have been shipped from Aizdihar. We would not risk anything at this point if it can be helped.”
“I will be there in the morning, then.”
Daikid arrived at the small pier while it was yet dark, clothed in the garb of a Kokkan peasant and carrying several throwing-spears along with his glaive. He also wore a long wig like that of a Kokkan man, covering his shorn hair. The feel of the long hair on his shoulders after years of cutting it was disconcerting, and brought back memories both good and bad. He approached the large fishing boat that was run aground at the arranged location. Two figures were barely visible moving about on the surface, quickly rigging the sails. As he came closer a third figure rose and spoke. It was the woman from the market, Tjaiki. “You have arrived. We will sail shortly. I have hired two sailors to sail the craft. Come look around the vessel and prepare to begin your duties.” Four hours later Daikid was standing near the bow, scanning the horizon. Behind him and beneath the deck were several sacks filled both with rice and rare Aizdiharian gems. Jewels are strange things... just pieces of glittering rocks, really. Yet one of the most prized possessions of their owners. They are displayed at symbols of status and given as collateral. Rarely do we stop and simply appreciate the beauty in each gem. We say we do, of course, but not really. The only thing we see in its crystal heart is the potential that lies within. The potential of wealth, power, security, and status. These gems are merely an arbitrarily appointed package. How would crystals be viewed without this lens of social power? Just pretty rocks. He felt a sudden and momentary urge to drop a ruby into the water and watch the crystal ember descend into the infinite deep... “What are the main dangers in these waters?” Tjaiki’s voice broke into his thoughts. He turned toward her and placed the javelin he was holding across his shoulders and let his hands grab either side, in a style that was common among the deto. “Not many dangers, actually. The water belt between Kokka and Ina Tathen is largely free from the pirates that plague lower areas. Occasionally pirates do venture this far north, but it is unlikely. There are tales of sea monsters as well, but they have been mostly hunted down by the deto of Kokka in years past. Few remain. “The tengu are also known to hunt in these parts, as you know. The sky demons often seem to strike lone fishing vessels in the midst of storms, for whatever reason. Because of the weather we are not able to watch the attacks, but tengu sightings within storms are very common and fishing boats often never return. Fortunately, however, the weather looks excellent. We should be able to deliver the gems promptly and we will both be paid.” Instinct, training, and the look on Tjaiki’s face all combined to warn Daikid to duck. The wooden rod whipped above him and slammed into Tjaiki’s abdomen instead. She fell backward and hit the railing. Daikid spun around and struck at the sailor, who was preparing for a second blow. This took the man off-balance, giving Daikid the time to jump backward and ready the javelin. One sailor had a wooden rod about four feet long and the other held a harpoon. Daikid was backed into the corner of the bow, with Tjaiki between him and the sailors. Now that the first attack had failed, the assailants were readying for a second. Apparently there would be no grandiose proclamations of their intentions. These were practical men, not ones prone to speeches. They charged, swinging and jabbing without co-ordination or strategy. Daikid parried a few blows from the club before knocking the long harpoon toward the club-wielder, entangling them for a moment. He blocked another blow from the club and kicked the harpoon, which was horizontal in front of both men. They stumbled backward. Now with a few extra feet of space, Daikid thrust the javelin into the stomach of the man with the club, risking exposure. The thin javelin went completely through the man’s abdomen. He dropped to the deck. The other sailor released the entangled harpoon when Daikid thrust, and ran back a few feet to grab the glaive which was leaning against the rail. Perfect. The glaive can be a magnificent weapon and deadly in the hands of a trained warrior. But any warrior knows both the strengths and weaknesses of his weapon—with a glaive, there are plenty of both. Daikid lunged forward in a feint, which was easily blocked by the sailor. As he returned from the strike, the sailor slid both of his hands to the back of the glaive to gain distance and reached forward in a counter-thrust. This caused the weapon to become off-balance. Daikid stepped into the over-extended thrust, knocked it aside, and stabbed the man through the throat. He fell to the deck. Some say that it is quiet in the aftermath of a battle. Not so. The screams of the first sailor had lowered into groans, the second was sputtering and choking in his own blood, and Tjaiki was still gasping for air. Daikid walked over to the man with the gut-wound. “I think I know why you did it, but maybe you should tell me anyway.” “Money... just money... maybe not worth it...” Daikid nodded. “Tjaiki, look away.” “What?” She sat stunned. He firmly pulled her to her feet and turned her to face the ocean. “Stay there.” He returned to the man with the gut-wound. The sailor watched him without moving, slipping into shock. Daikid stabbed the man through the eye, killing him instantly and silently. Better this way. He would be too far gone before we could reach a healer. This is better than a slow, painful death. I’ll pay for it tonight, though... somehow even actions I know are right come back to haunt me. He looked over at the other man. He had ceased twitching, and only his eyelids moved. Not long until death for him. “Look...” Tjaiki pointed toward something above the island of Kokka, which was now visible on the horizon. Daikid saw nothing at first, but then glimpsed a large rod falling from the sky directly in the center of Kokka. It was too far away to see a color, and it fell too quickly to process what exactly was happening. The rod disappeared silently into the center of Kokka. A low rumble began, like that of an avalanche. Then a cloud slowly rose from the place the bolt had landed. Daikid strained his eyes to make out what was happening to the buildings and trees that were barely visible on the edge of the island. He sucked in a breath. They were collapsing from the ground up.. Like some island-wide earthquake had shaken every building, they splintered and fell. Large chunks of earth rocked skyward, only to fall back and crush those who had fled the buildings. Tremors now shook the boat. The water was strangely dimpled from the subaquatic vibration and behaved as if a musical note were played loudly nearby. Daikid dropped to his knees. “The rumors were right... I didn’t think it possible.” Rumors had spread during the past weeks that a new radical group, the Sanctified, had acquired a supercannon that used a secret technology to destroy large areas of land. The idea had seemed too spectacular to believe, then. But now? Ripples and waves of increasing strength began hitting the side of the boat. Daikid struggled to his feet. “We need to leave.” His voice shook. “We could capsize if the waves get any larger.” Tjaiki did not respond. He ran to the sail and untied one side. He swung the boom around to catch the wind the push them away from the island and tied if off. Not a professional job, to be sure, but it might hold. Thankfully, the wind was with them. Daikid returned to Tjaiki’s side. She had not spoken since pointing out the coming destruction of Kokka. He had not given much thought to the Sanctified until now. But this fringe religious group had just destroyed his childhood, his culture, and his people. Kokka might not recognize him as one of their own—he didn’t recognize himself as a Kokkan anymore—but nonetheless the Sanctified had just destroyed his birthplace. He turned and began cleaning his blood-splattered glaive.
Daikid arrived at the small pier while it was yet dark, clothed in the garb of a Kokkan peasant and carrying several throwing-spears along with his glaive. He also wore a long wig like that of a Kokkan man, covering his shorn hair. The feel of the long hair on his shoulders after years of cutting it was disconcerting, and brought back memories both good and bad. He approached the large fishing boat that was run aground at the arranged location. Two figures were barely visible moving about on the surface, quickly rigging the sails. As he came closer a third figure rose and spoke. It was the woman from the market, Tjaiki. “You have arrived. We will sail shortly. I have hired two sailors to sail the craft. Come look around the vessel and prepare to begin your duties.” Four hours later Daikid was standing near the bow, scanning the horizon. Behind him and beneath the deck were several sacks filled both with rice and rare Aizdiharian gems. Jewels are strange things... just pieces of glittering rocks, really. Yet one of the most prized possessions of their owners. They are displayed at symbols of status and given as collateral. Rarely do we stop and simply appreciate the beauty in each gem. We say we do, of course, but not really. The only thing we see in its crystal heart is the potential that lies within. The potential of wealth, power, security, and status. These gems are merely an arbitrarily appointed package. How would crystals be viewed without this lens of social power? Just pretty rocks. He felt a sudden and momentary urge to drop a ruby into the water and watch the crystal ember descend into the infinite deep... “What are the main dangers in these waters?” Tjaiki’s voice broke into his thoughts. He turned toward her and placed the javelin he was holding across his shoulders and let his hands grab either side, in a style that was common among the deto. “Not many dangers, actually. The water belt between Kokka and Ina Tathen is largely free from the pirates that plague lower areas. Occasionally pirates do venture this far north, but it is unlikely. There are tales of sea monsters as well, but they have been mostly hunted down by the deto of Kokka in years past. Few remain. “The tengu are also known to hunt in these parts, as you know. The sky demons often seem to strike lone fishing vessels in the midst of storms, for whatever reason. Because of the weather we are not able to watch the attacks, but tengu sightings within storms are very common and fishing boats often never return. Fortunately, however, the weather looks excellent. We should be able to deliver the gems promptly and we will both be paid.” Instinct, training, and the look on Tjaiki’s face all combined to warn Daikid to duck. The wooden rod whipped above him and slammed into Tjaiki’s abdomen instead. She fell backward and hit the railing. Daikid spun around and struck at the sailor, who was preparing for a second blow. This took the man off-balance, giving Daikid the time to jump backward and ready the javelin. One sailor had a wooden rod about four feet long and the other held a harpoon. Daikid was backed into the corner of the bow, with Tjaiki between him and the sailors. Now that the first attack had failed, the assailants were readying for a second. Apparently there would be no grandiose proclamations of their intentions. These were practical men, not ones prone to speeches. They charged, swinging and jabbing without co-ordination or strategy. Daikid parried a few blows from the club before knocking the long harpoon toward the club-wielder, entangling them for a moment. He blocked another blow from the club and kicked the harpoon, which was horizontal in front of both men. They stumbled backward. Now with a few extra feet of space, Daikid thrust the javelin into the stomach of the man with the club, risking exposure. The thin javelin went completely through the man’s abdomen. He dropped to the deck. The other sailor released the entangled harpoon when Daikid thrust, and ran back a few feet to grab the glaive which was leaning against the rail. Perfect. The glaive can be a magnificent weapon and deadly in the hands of a trained warrior. But any warrior knows both the strengths and weaknesses of his weapon—with a glaive, there are plenty of both. Daikid lunged forward in a feint, which was easily blocked by the sailor. As he returned from the strike, the sailor slid both of his hands to the back of the glaive to gain distance and reached forward in a counter-thrust. This caused the weapon to become off-balance. Daikid stepped into the over-extended thrust, knocked it aside, and stabbed the man through the throat. He fell to the deck. Some say that it is quiet in the aftermath of a battle. Not so. The screams of the first sailor had lowered into groans, the second was sputtering and choking in his own blood, and Tjaiki was still gasping for air. Daikid walked over to the man with the gut-wound. “I think I know why you did it, but maybe you should tell me anyway.” “Money... just money... maybe not worth it...” Daikid nodded. “Tjaiki, look away.” “What?” She sat stunned. He firmly pulled her to her feet and turned her to face the ocean. “Stay there.” He returned to the man with the gut-wound. The sailor watched him without moving, slipping into shock. Daikid stabbed the man through the eye, killing him instantly and silently. Better this way. He would be too far gone before we could reach a healer. This is better than a slow, painful death. I’ll pay for it tonight, though... somehow even actions I know are right come back to haunt me. He looked over at the other man. He had ceased twitching, and only his eyelids moved. Not long until death for him. “Look...” Tjaiki pointed toward something above the island of Kokka, which was now visible on the horizon. Daikid saw nothing at first, but then glimpsed a large rod falling from the sky directly in the center of Kokka. It was too far away to see a color, and it fell too quickly to process what exactly was happening. The rod disappeared silently into the center of Kokka. A low rumble began, like that of an avalanche. Then a cloud slowly rose from the place the bolt had landed. Daikid strained his eyes to make out what was happening to the buildings and trees that were barely visible on the edge of the island. He sucked in a breath. They were collapsing from the ground up.. Like some island-wide earthquake had shaken every building, they splintered and fell. Large chunks of earth rocked skyward, only to fall back and crush those who had fled the buildings. Tremors now shook the boat. The water was strangely dimpled from the subaquatic vibration and behaved as if a musical note were played loudly nearby. Daikid dropped to his knees. “The rumors were right... I didn’t think it possible.” Rumors had spread during the past weeks that a new radical group, the Sanctified, had acquired a supercannon that used a secret technology to destroy large areas of land. The idea had seemed too spectacular to believe, then. But now? Ripples and waves of increasing strength began hitting the side of the boat. Daikid struggled to his feet. “We need to leave.” His voice shook. “We could capsize if the waves get any larger.” Tjaiki did not respond. He ran to the sail and untied one side. He swung the boom around to catch the wind the push them away from the island and tied if off. Not a professional job, to be sure, but it might hold. Thankfully, the wind was with them. Daikid returned to Tjaiki’s side. She had not spoken since pointing out the coming destruction of Kokka. He had not given much thought to the Sanctified until now. But this fringe religious group had just destroyed his childhood, his culture, and his people. Kokka might not recognize him as one of their own—he didn’t recognize himself as a Kokkan anymore—but nonetheless the Sanctified had just destroyed his birthplace. He turned and began cleaning his blood-splattered glaive.
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