â—† P R E Y â—†
[ Part Two of Six ]
[ Part Two of Six ]
â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â… â€¹ ⧫ › â†â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”
Author's Note: Part two of what I think will end up being four short parts (Spoiler alert, it ended up being six by the time I finished) total. Also written on my phone in the cramped back seat of the truck on the ride home from vacation, so not the best.
â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â… â€¹ ⧫ › â†â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”â”
"Whiskey neat, right?"
Bayard reached around behind Jaliqai to set the glass of dark amber liquor in front of her. Her fingers wrapped around it, a scowl coming to her lips when she noticed the slight trembling in her fingers. The cold, she told herself. Nothing more than the cold. Her grip tightened as she lifted it.
"Right."
"You never change, Red." The man's words held a fond, teasing tone.
"Honestly, I'm just surprised that you still remember how I like my liquor," she mused. "I would think that you would've forgotten by now."
"Ha! I chased bounties with you for how many moons?" The Highlander paused his train of thought. "Five? Six?"
"Almost six, if I remember." A slight hint of a smile came to the Xaela's lips at the memory.
"Right, we spent six moons crackin' skulls together. Like hells I would forget what you'd always drink at the end of the day." His lips split into a wide grin, his dark brown eyes watching her. Gone was the fierce anger that he had laid upon the hecklers in the alley. Now, he was relaxed, content.
His peace put her at ease. It always had. For all his hardness and his ruthlessness with a sword, underneath layers of scars, tanned skin, and taut muscle was a man who had shown her warmth when few others had. One of the first to know what she was, and who looked past her scales and horns to offer her a spot in his band of bounty hunters until she was confident enough in this foreign land to stand on her own. He had always treated her more like an old friend than an unfamiliar addition, asking her questions about her land and peoples with genuine interest, introducing her to the connections she needed in this place, teaching her things about Eorzea.
It had taken her some time to open up to him, but the trust came far easier than she could have anticipated. If there was anyone in this land that she could call a friend, it was this man. Only now, staring at him over the rim of her glass, did she realize just how sharply she had missed him when they had went their separate ways some moons back.
Not allowing herself to dwell long on the memories and emotions, Jali dropped her gaze and tilted up her glass. It wasn't a quarter as fine as the brew at the Blind Viper, the taste not nearly so complex and smooth. It burned all the way down the back of her throat, down into the pit of her stomach. Yet in this frigid land where the cold seeped into your bones and clung tightly to them, it was perfect, warming her from the inside out.
"So," she began, clearing her throat. "You called me for business?" Her glass lowered, replaced by a somewhat amused smirk. "You had a mark you're having trouble tracking?"
The man made an annoyed face, frowning down into his own glass. She couldn't help but let out a soft, low chuckle.
"Now I'm intrigued. I shudder to think what sort of mark could force Bayard Bronzeblade to have to call in reinforcements." She leaned in, including her glass towards the hunting knife sheathed in leather at the man's hip. It was his claim to notoriety in the bounty hunting world, the unimpressive knife that he had used to subdue a mark cycles ago that many others had tried their hands at and failed. "That knife of yours isn't getting dull, is it?"
"Bah! Like I would let a single blade of mine go without sharpenin'. No, the problem with this shite is findin' him to begin with." He shook his head. "I've been on this bastard's trail for a moon now, and seen neither hide nor hair of him."
Jaliqai's lips slowly pulled into a grin. These were the hunts that she loved, where the marks were hard to coax out of hiding. Finding the trail and pinning her prey down had always been her specialty, which was likely why she and Bayard had worked so well together. For all his brutish brawn, he lacked the same finesse and cunning that she did. He could brawl far better than she, but she could always find their marks whenever he was at a loss.
"Fair enough. What sort of leads you have, then?" She set her glass down, intently focused on the other.
"For the last couple moons, there's been a lot that have been playin' at bandits in the mountains, robbin' caravans and causin' all sorts of trouble for the villages." Bayard paused to eye the Xaela across the table from him. "Wouldn't be half so bad, save for the fact that he's taken up the hobby of snatchin' up the women, too."
Immediately, the Au Ra's smile began to fade. The amusement drained from her face, replaced by a coldness that matched the crisp Coerthan air.
"Slavers?" she asked, lip curling at the word. The man shook his head.
"As far as anyone can tell, no." Bayard lifted a hand, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck. "And that's the problem. If they were movin' around the flesh trade, they'd be easier to track. But by the looks of it, Ghost and his crew are just collectors of pretty lasses."
"Ghost?"
"Aye, that's what they took to callin' him. He's quiet as the dead, makes his hits fast and silent. He's in and out before anyone knows it. Not to mention that not a damned soul knows who he really is. Even if they did, it'd be hard to convince these Ishgardians to give up what they know."
The Auri woman leaned back in her chair, golden eyes falling down to her glass, silent as she thought it over. He glanced at her, watching for a moment before his brows furrowed.
"Not goin' to say 'no', are you, Red?" He leaned in to look more closely at her. She glanced back up to him, shaking her head.
"A Qulaan never turns down a good hunt, but I have to wonder.. Why ask me?"
The man seemed confused by her question, straightening up in his seat once again to level the perplexed look at her. "Because you're the best godsdamned tracker I've ever worked with."
"No. I mean, you saw those people out there. They bloody well hate me, like I was a dragon myself." She frowned deeply. "If the only leads I have to go off of are whispers, what makes you think any of these Ishgardians will talk to me? Especially if they won't even talk to you. They'd sooner spit in my face."
Once again, the Highlander was quiet as he looked her over. There was something in the way he watched her that suggested thought, maybe even a hint of worry. Yet she stayed quiet, letting him have time to work out what he wished to say.
"Red.. I've a plan. Just hear me out before you tell me to sod off, alright?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded, a slow and carefully measured gesture. "Ghost's lot have been makin' their way across a line of villages, and if the rumors I've heard have any truth to them, we know where they'll be in a few suns' time."
"If you know that much, then why do you even need me?" Jaliqai's brows furrowed.
"Because this ain't the first time me and my own have tried to cut him off. They call him Ghost for a reason, love." He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Bastard has earned it. We had him right in our palm, but never saw him. We thought the information was bad, until we woke the next mornin' to stolen goods and stolen lasses besides."
"And the part where you need me...?"
"Just listen, eh?" He opened his mouth to continue and once again stopped short to regard her cautiously. Her lips pulled into a scowl.
"Are you gonna bloody well tell me your plan or not?"
"Alright, alright.. The last few women he's taken have been Auri. We reckon he's taken a fancy to your kind. My plan was to have you lure him out to--"
"No." The huntress looked almost disgusted as she stared at him, her voice bearing the weight of every onze of cold steel in that single word. Her upper lip curled back over her teeth. "I will not be another person's prey, Bayard."
"You wouldn't be prey. You just--"
"You know how I feel about this. I won't do it."
"Red, please, just hear me out. We've got to lure this bastard out somehow, yeah? We know where he's goin' to be, and we know he fancies himself some Au Ra. And just so happens, you're the only one I know that's twice as good with a blade as she is beautiful." His look softened as he stared at her across the table. "You won't be no one's prey, love. I won't let him lay a finger on you. I'll be skulkin' around after you, and as soon as he thinks to try and make off with you, I'll have my knife at his neck."
Jaliqai stared at him long and hard, glaring, trying to steel her resolve. She had told him once, long ago, that she would never allow herself to serve as bait in a trap. She was the predator, the hunter. Not the quarry. At the time, she hadn't trusted any of them half as much as she had grown to trust Bayard. She hadn't told them of what had happened to her in Othard, to the Qulaani who had survived the Garlean attack that spelled the end of their tribe. How they had been hunted, captured.. It was a memory that she had always pushed to the back of her mind, trying to make it disappear.
Yet the man had a point. Someone as smooth as Ghost would likely go on uncaught for many moons yet if not lured into a trap, and it was a decent plan besides. Bayard wouldn't allow anyone to do that to her. He was a strong, capable, experienced fighter. Stronger than even some of the Qulaani she had known and grown up alongside. And of all the people she had met in Eorzea, she trusted none half as deeply as she trusted him.
"...Fine." She breathed out a long sigh. "I'll bloody do it, just this once. Alright?"
Bayard let out a surprised, yet cheerful bark of a laugh, clapping his left hand down upon the wooden table. Several other patrons looked over at the noise before returning to their own conversations. The grin wouldn't disappear from her old partner's face.
"We'll leave tomorrow, then. Get a head start, scout out the area, and familiarize ourselves with the land." He paused, then reached out to clasp one of his large hands over her forearm. She could feel the roughness of his calloused skin, his strength. But more than that, she could feel the gentleness and warmth, his thumb stroking fondly over the soft skin of her inner arm. "Thank you, Red. I swear, I would throw myself on my own sword before I let any harm come to you."
Redness and heat began to creep up to her cheeks before she could stop them, her heart beating a little faster. Yet when she realized it, she coughed, pulling her arm away to cover her mouth, then dropped it back down to her side out of reach. He let out a chuckle.
"Let's get some sleep. It's a long trip out to the village." Bayard pushed his chair back, standing. "I'll pay for the room."
"I can pay for my own room."
"What I meant," he began in a deep drawl, brown eyes watching her, the corners of his lips pulling up into a handsome smirk, "was that we could share one."
"No." Her answer was quick. Perhaps too quick. His drawling turned to a deep laugh that rumbled up from his chest. He lifted his hands up in a motion of surrender, turning to start towards the innkeep.
"You really don't change, do you?"
