Chase of the Nightingale

Again, these stories are based on an idea that is not originally my own, based on the character of Nightingale in the Royal Thieves in the game “Evony; The King’s Return” by Top Games.  And the picture I use is from the Deviantart artist aipixelmaster and used with his permission.

Nightingale tore at her dress some more.  Whose idea was it again to have her in this ridiculous, long, silky dress that clung to her legs and made it so she couldn’t move?

She ripped some more as she tried to run, thinking back on the last 120 years with her partners.

Sure, after that initial introduction, Duke was clearly wanting to sleep with her.  That wore off after a couple of decades of her consistently telling him “no.” I mean, sure, children would never enter into their lives, but these other two immortal people were her partners.

I mean, sure, sex was the only thing that felt better than dying, but she was NOT interested in having it with either of them.  Still, she knew she was the kind of woman that almost every man fantasized about taking to their bed, but she knew more than they did.

Every time they died, it felt SOOO good.  Sure, three days later, they’d wake up not far from where they died, which also felt wonderful, but they weren’t in the business of dying.

And, as Nell told her shortly after they partnered up, he understood the desire Duke had for her. After all, she was very attractive. But, for Nell, she reminded him of his little sister that was killed when he first died.

So here they were, running one of Duke’s many cons in village after village, all of them variations in order to keep doubt from them.  They’d go in, claiming to be performers.  Nell would work his magic with a sword, showing off many techniques and even besting village champions.  Duke would do magic acts, really just misdirection, and Nightingale would sing.

But their real jobs were far different.  Sure, Duke might work the crowd a little as she sang, practicing the pickpocketing she taught him all those years ago, but they’d keep their ears open for corrupt officials in each village and town they came to, listening for laments and cries of the poor class.

Then, somehow, these officials would find their coffers robbed, and the citizens they ruled over suddenly a little happier and a little wealthier.  Then they’d be off.

They tried not to kill the officials as much as possible.  After all, murder was still a capitol offence and, although they knew they’d get away with it, they didn’t want to have their names besmirched by the negative press.

Instead, they were like the legendary Robin Hood, or they saw themselves like that.  Nobody would ever be able to catch the thieves because they’d always seem to slip away.

Sure, they all learned from each other.  Nightingale picked up the art of fighting from Nell quickly, him not even going easy on her because she’s a girl, but it took a little longer to learn the subtle mind games of being a con artist from Duke.  And the other two also learned the art of being light on their feet and slipping into and out of the shadows during the darkness in order to spirit away with a prize.

But then they came here, to this larger town.  This town even had a stage, and Duke had the idea that Nightingale should wear a fancy dress.  She was NOT okay with it.  The dress he picked out for her was too tight, accentuating her natural features, and wouldn’t allow her to run it was so tight around her hips and legs.  And the material felt way too soft.

And what was with all the frills?

Duke just told her it made her look even more beautiful, but she scoffed at that.  What kind of singer would use such a ridiculous outfit?

But now it was worse.

The performance started out nicely, Nell showing off, as usual, how good he was with a sword by besting the town champion.  It didn’t take long before the crowd, hearing they had a singer in their midst, was begging for Nightingale to come out.

About the middle of her second song, seeing all the men in the audience totally enraptured by her voice, the alert sounded, but it was different.  One of the other townsfolk came in, shouting, “They’re back!”

Without any further explanation, the entire audience ran for the exits as the three of them got off the stage.  Nightingale was totally confused so stopped one of the fleeing townsfolk. “Who’s back? What’s happening?”

The man gasped for a moment, out of breath, before hurriedly explaining. “Every few weeks, we have an army of undead soldiers come to our town.  We have no idea what they want, just that they come here.”

Undead? Curious, Nightingale went out the door to be met with a stench she could only remember from places where people died. The memory of her first execution came up.  The stench was similar, but far fouler.

She heard the moaning coming from the sound of many horse’s hooves beating against the ground, like it was an army marching on the town, before she felt someone grabbing her hand.

She turned to see Nell, looking at her intently. “Remember your training.”

Nightingale nodded, knowing what was being asked of her, and the three of them decided, almost unilaterally, that they had to stand their ground.

The first of the undead soldiers came into view a moment later before they all came in, almost a hundred of them.  They all, as if by some unspoken force, dismounted and just stood there.

Nightingale felt her heart racing, watching the faces of these abominations.  Were they still faces?  She didn’t know.  They all wore various shades of decay and all of their eyes, what eyes there were, stared dead and cold ahead.  A shiver crawled up her back as the soldiers of the town moved forward, ready to defend the innocent. “What do we do?”

Nell watched for a moment. “You know they can’t actually kill us, so let’s just see what happens.”

Unilaterally and without any warning, the undead surged forward, running and almost screaming as well as they could without any real vocal cords.  The soldiers braced and started to parry, but Nightingale elbowed Duke to look at the sides.

She saw undead sneaking around the main army, almost as if they were searching. “We have to do something about them.”

She realized she shouldn’t have spoken so soon as some of them ran towards the three of them.  Nell drew his sword, ready to strike them down as did Duke.  Without any sort of armament of her own, Nightingale crouched behind them, constricted, again, by that awful dress.

One of the undead broke from the pack and she felt her flight response kick in.  As she got back up, she started tearing at her dress, desperately wanting to get away from that awful smell.  She got the bodice off, revealing the leather one she was wearing underneath, the one that allowed her to move, but the skirt kept refusing to follow her commands. “C’MON!!”

One of the undead grabbed her around her waist and she started kicking and screaming, trying to get it off of her, before it threw her to the ground.

There was no wonderful feeling as it pinned her down.  Still struggling, she turned away as it bent in closer to her.  She could feel its fetid breath on her throat as was ready to…What?  Kiss her? Bite her?  She had no idea, but she did know the fear she felt.  Where was that feeling of ecstasy they felt when they were facing death?

Without any warning, it reeled back, almost like it was being repelled.  It sprang up, making a sound of disgust, something that amazed her since it was disgusting, before it shambled away.

With the rest of the dress in ruins, Nightingale tore the skirt away.  She wondered if Duke would be surprised she had on her normal leather outfit underneath, but that only lasted a moment before she scrambled to get back to the other two.

As she got to where they were, she spotted them, moving forward, just moving toward the undead army. The undead scrambled out of their way, not wanting to come near them.

In a few minutes, the battle was over.  The town’s army lay dead or wounded, many of the dead with gaping holes in their bodies as the surviving townsfolk moved in.  Nightingale elbowed Nell and Duke, pointing this to them. “There will be a lot of funerals in the next couple of days, many of whom would have things they cherished buried with them.”

Duke smiled as he caught on. Same with Nell. “But won’t really miss in the long run.”

He looked at her. “What happened to your dress?”

Nightingale just glared at him. “We really need to go over your style choices Duke.”

And they knew their performance, although delayed, would go on, although the town cemetery might find itself inextricably robbed very soon.

Yes, life was good, although Nightingale wondered what it was about the three of them that really drove the undead away.