TRASH - Act 1: The Spinner

There was a whispering wind crawling through the built up town, chilling it to its wooden bones and sinking into the soft flesh of its dozing villagers. The breath of night was almost soothing, speeding and slowing with the natural whispers of a drifting song that the wind carried with it. Like long forgotten spirits rising through the darkened cracks to hum nostalgic lullabies, and coax the living to their hold.

Maddison wasn't thinking this when he woke up, he just needed to take a leak.

After adjusting his vision to the cramped space Tarson had stashed him in, he carefully rolled over, squinting whenever the weak frame of the almost child sized bed let out a pained groan.

He gingerly placed his feet on the stone floor, lifting up with a drawn out creek and soft thunk as he smacked his head on the roof of the space trying to stand up.

He muttered a curse, rubbing the roots of his tingling hair where he'd hit the hard wood. The space certainly wasn't welcoming for more than a day, but it was still an extremely generous lodge compared to most of the contract dealers he'd bunked with. He stood in the small storage space, directly beneath the stairwall to the basement choked full of deadly weaponry, which somehow didn't manage to put him at ease.

At least not in this town.

He sighed. The lingering dread that smothered the town, from its flush green grass to awful pastries had softened with the small slot of shut eye Maddison squeezed in, but he still had a dagger at his hip and an ear on every rogue noise that sounded in the night.

Tarson hadn't told him where the bathroom was, if there even was one, but he did recall passing a lonely shack with two split off doors near the center of the town. It was spiffed up, but it had the same design as some of the lavatories armies would pop up for lengthy stakeouts.

He wouldn't mind a nighttime stroll. It had been his intent to slip off at some time in the small hours to cut his quest short, and here he could kill two birds with one stone.

It was time to sneak in to Maynard's towering hut of a house and get the deed done with before committing to the insanity of the village. Maddison smiled, nodding at his own thoughts as he grabbed an extra dagger to stuff in his boot. The sour tang of the bun Cindy had forced on him was still lingering at the back of his tongue, thick and pungent. Needless to say, he stuffed Tarson's trash pail with the rest of them, hoping Sajus would take the garbage as a treat.

With a final sigh he rose to his feet, smacking his head on the low-cut ceiling yet again and biting his bottom lip before he could get the string of profanity out of his head. He gave the ceiling a deathly glare, as if it would cause the entire structure to rise a foot and accommodate his height. He then slipped on a jacket and made his way up the small flight of creaking stairs, pausing at the flickering candle lights dancing beneath the simple door cutting him from the chilled basement and Tarson's warm hearth.

Someone was still up.

Maddison took extra care in opening the small door, closing his eyes in prayer that the aged hinges didn't decide to announce his presence for him. For some reason the clear presence of another person proved to lighten his step as he feared to interrupt their mysterious business. The things a person could do at this hour in the night were minimal, but since Tarson was alone with his sister, he could thankfully, and hopefully, cut one contender from the list.

As he neared the source of the flickering light, a faint scratching met his ears. It was familiar to him, the sound of a pen's nib scraping parchment, the faint string of noise drawn out as the writer favoured precision over speed. He peeked around the corner expecting to see Tarson clutching a fountain pen, drawing back a little in surprise as he met Endris' gaze.

She was sitting alone at the table, sheets of decorative parchment strewn about its entire surface while she held the pen in preparation to dip it into a pot of ink, her motion cut frozen while she stared at Maddison with her head still tilted down to her work.

"You're horrible at sneaking."

He gave the scene a few moments to process, stepping closer in an attempt to make out the contents of the gold trimmed pages. "Didn't think anyone was up."

"Oh?" She rested the pen at the lip of the ink pot, leaning back in her chair with her legs lazily sprawled outwards. Maddison swallowed his discomfort, keeping himself from focusing on how her nightdress stretched up dangerously above her knees. "And what is Mr. Sungard doing up at this hour?"

"Bathroom. What about you?" Maddison replied plainly, growing comfortable as Endris eased the tension with a careless smile.

"Twisting the script a little."

He finally gained enough distance on her to make out the pages. Long strings of dialogue perfectly penned with the eloquent art of a noble fairytale, a few pictures shy of being a masterpiece worthy of the king's bedroom.

He reached out to pick one up, hesitant to lift it from the table and risk damaging the masterpiece. Knowing his luck, the thing would find a way to snap in two from his gaze alone.

Endris' amusement only grew as she viewed Maddison's fixed gaze, wondering if he realised his mouth was hanging open. "I was redoing a page, but the extra dialogue ran into the next one so I had to squish the sentences a little." She grabbed the pen again, carefully flicking the sharp point across the fine surface to create some eloquent dialogue tags. "Now it says Endris Grey will accompany you to ensure the gargalnox will never rise again. Should be a small enough change to shirk Maynard's gaze."

Maddison grabbed the page Endris held out to him, skimming the phrases set to specific people, one such being the adventurer who was primarily ordered to nod at specific parts. "How many of these do you have to change?"

Endris watched him blankly, taking a couple blinks before she barked out a laugh. "Oh no! It's just this one. These pages are special, and the ink." She tapped the nub of her pen against the crystal pot. "The villagers under whatever spell this town is suffering from will pick these new lines up immediately." She scanned the pile of artistic papers and grabbed two, holding their perfection up to the flickering candle. "They will of course, if I do this."

The small flame leapt onto the generous meal Endris had baited it with, crawling across the expensive parchment and shriveling it up to worthless black scraps. Maddison gaped at the seemingly pointless destruction, shooting a confused glare at Endris as she held up the two brand new pages of script, the letters glowing with a silver sheen before fading to black.

Despite the tiny abnormality, Maddison took in the sight like he'd just witnessed a murder, drawing back and grabbing for one of his daggers. Endris flinched at the reaction, her short lived fear melting into an amused smirk as she wiped her pen and carefully placed it in a wooden box.

"Town's under a spell and you react to glowin letters?" She shook her head with a light laugh, scooping up the ashes littering the table and bumping past Maddison to reach the closest garbage pail. "I didn't do that, if that's what you're wondering."

Maddison didn't relax, watching her like she was a feral cat that had prowled into his room, taunting his every move with a tail that flicked mockingly, and talons that hid behind fluffy paws, ready to kill.

Endris went back to the table, scooping up the scripts and shooting Maddison another glance that fell to a disappointed glare. "Stop looking at me like that, I didn't make the letters glow you dimwitted oaf."

"Then who did?" Maddison replied coldly, flinching again as Endris moved to grab the pot of ink.

She caught his tense reaction, her shoulders shaking as she sucked her lips in to fight a pitying smile. "It's the ink, the ink's got some strange magic in it." She watched as Maddison stuck his hand out for the fragile pot, shaking her head and placing it on the table. "I know you're gonna smash it, but hear me out."

Maddison slowly pulled his hand back, curling it into a tight fist as he folded his arms. He didn't speak his thoughts, but the disdain had pent up on his face.

"The ink's from Old Man Maynard, it's not mine." Endris started, immediately softening the hostility in Maddison's gaze. "He got a small group of us to write up the script as a tourist attraction, but he was real specific about us using his ink for the final copy." She looked at the small vile, biting her lip with a guilt ridden sigh. "I didn't know it was magic, none of us did."

"Until the town went crazy?"

Endris nodded, corking the pot of ink with a victorious smile. "But we shouldn't break this, we can use it against him, like I'm doing right now."

"That's not an excuse to use magic." Maddison spat.

"Oh?" Endris replied, clicking her tongue as she folded her arms and popped her hip out. "So you'd rather follow the script and let it fool around with you, as opposed to standing above it and twisting it to your will?"

Maddison pursed his lips, standing rigid as a statue.

"Burn all the pages, smash the vial, and free all the villagers from the spell."

"Afraid one of us tried that. It didn't free them, it made them stop altogether. We were lucky Cindy was quick enough to write a short script and remind everyone to breath." Endris mused, searching Maddison's scowl that refused to chip. Endris shrugged. "Alright." She grabbed the two papers from the stack, heading straight for the candle when Maddison crumbled, letting out a defeated sigh as he waved his hand carelessly at her.

"Do whatever you want, I need to go to the bathroom." His indignant frown hardened at the snorting start of Endris's laughter, strengthening the sound into obnoxious cackles as he greeted her with a pouting glare.

She tried to swallow her uncontrollable fit, blinking away a few stray tears before seating herself at the table to hide her face. Her bouncing shoulders proved that she clearly wasn't done, still face down laughing as Maddison rolled his eyes and left through the front door with a less than appropriate slam.

"Everybody's insane." Maddison growled, stealing a lung full of fresh air and staring up at the twinkling stars. At least they were still normal, shining through the clear pockets of purplish clouds sleeping in the sky. He looked to his left, Sajus was gone, with the withered remnants of his fire still rested in a bed of rocks. Tarson'e girlfriend had probably taken him inside, since she was designated with taking care of him and his brother.

Maddison started his calm stroll, allowing his thoughts to aimlessly explore his situation. He hadn't seen another child since he entered the town, giving him room to wonder where Sajus' brother actually was, if he was even alive still.

Maddison stared at the empty streets. He hated to imagine them once filled with bustling townsfolk, poor, yet free. Ignorantly happy with their wills and thoughts to pursue their simple dreams. The townsfolk that knew everyone, from Tarson the blacksmith to Sajus and his brother, motherless yet cared for under the wings of security. The townsfolk that had never done anything to deserve punishment, let alone their current fate. And if the spell couldn't be lifted then they were nothing more than soulless puppets, living a sad mockery of a life, in which death would stand as the better alternative.

The magic had stolen everything from them, their freedom, their thoughts, and in some cases, their lives.

It had destroyed yet another family with its endless hunger, a lurking beast that devoured everything in sight and raged like a wild grass fire.

A beast that never died, that fed off unholy anchors and raised demons from the soil.

A beast, that in Maddison's eyes, the world could do without.

Maddison gritted his teeth, rounding a corner as he masked the clacking of his thick boots against the paved cobble. The night was dead, void of its singing birds and chiming symphony of grass jumpers, dead as the fallen leaves scraping along with the breeze, and cold as a corpse left to rot in the sea. The silence played with his mind, showing puppet shows of strange shadows dancing through the magic lamp lights. They would always shrink away when he cocked his head in their direction.

After a darkened alley had stolen his attention for several minutes he cautiously pulled his gaze to the center of town, examining the small silver statue of a toned steed nestled off into a corner of the clearing. He had been so intent on finding the bakery that he didn't notice the stables were close by. The statue was regal in its own way, the surrounding lights dancing off its toned muscles and flowing.

It reminded him of Horse, and not in a good way. He'd ditched the thing for a whole day without feeding it, leaving it leashed up outside of Tarson's house as the strange town forced him to forget about his stolen mount. He stopped, brow scrunched as he tried to recall leaving Tarson's house. Was Horse still there when he walked out the door? He sighed, dismissing the thought and the worry that came with it.

The dumb thing was slower than Sariel anyways.

He kept to his course, looking without seeing. He really had to stop thinking such things, or they would slip off his tongue if he saw her again. He had met plenty of stupid people, they often died first on missions. You couldn't fix stupid. But Sariel was naive, not stupid, and there was room for improvement there.

Maddison approached the very center of the town. If he cut past the stage, he could make it to Maynard's front door without risking waking any cursed villagers that could still be in the surrounding shops. He walked carefully when he reached the paved path, fixed to the towering statue. She was a dark maiden now, with nothing but the starlight to reflect upon her body. The birds had emptied the bounty in her hands, and with the way the shadows stretched across her brow, she almost looked sad because of it.

Before he reached the grass, there was a movement.

He froze, violently torn from his thoughts. They had been crouching in the shadows at her feet, partially obscured by one of the cages on the stage. But as soon as the figure rose, Madison crouched to hide himself by a bench. It was poor coverage, but he could tell from his distance that the form of the man standing a couple yards away had their back turned to him. He was tall, relatively well built, and expensively dressed in dark blue robes.

He turned from the statue, leaving the stage and facing Maddison only momentarily before rounding the base of the stadium and turning back to the statue. Nothing in his demeanour gave away that he had seen Maddison. His sharp chin was angled upwards to the stars, blind to his guest as he soaked in the twinkling sight. There was empathy in his soft gaze, wisdom in his layers of silvered hair, and leadership in his upright posture and combed appearance.

He wasn't like the other townsfolk. An unseen pedestal shadowed his every step, like the hundreds of others Maddison had met, and promptly offed for a sack full of glistening coins.

The man standing before him was a leader.

Old Man Maynard.

Maddison's throat went dry, his feet glued to the polished rocks as he stroked the dagger at his hip. He was out in the open, a sitting duck if the sorcerer so much as turned his gaze and focused for a mere moment. This wasn't an opportunity, it was a trap without a person to blame spare his dimwitted self.

He grinded his teeth in hard thought, painfully tearing his bloodthirsty fingers from the dagger's hilt. He could run, but there was no telling what the mad sorcerer would have the cursed villagers do to him if he saw him flee. He could stay in his poor hiding spot, and pray for the unlikely chance that he would go unnoticed.

Maddison frowned at the final option. Or...

He quietly rose, his heart jumping as a small brown bird landed on the bench, chittering frantically. Maddison eyed the distressed animal, disappointed that it wasn't Crow come to deliver his dagger. He hadn't seen any birds in the town, or animals for that matter. It made sense, crows and black cats brought omens, and the animals would leave with them before curses and tragedy took the people. This single bird mustn't have gotten the memo.

Maddison waved his hand to try and shoo it off. Maynard was still glued to the twinkling stars, but Maddison didn't want to risk a surprise. His plan was a gamble, but it was his best bet in leaving alive. He mocked the emptied look of the villagers, and slowly approached the man.

The bird chittered again, swooping inches from his face and forcing a flinch out of him.

A growl of frustration slipped from his throat, but he remained strong. If he wasn't so committed to selling his lie, he would have slapped the damn thing out of the air.

When he'd successfully closed a couple feet, the man dropped his gaze, slowly looking to Maddison without a flicker of surprise. Maddison paced himself, not allowing his panic to show as he continued forwards. A few more strides and he would be able to plant his dagger in Maynard's heart. He only planted his feet when Maynard paid him an expecting smile, the sorcerer turning to face him fully.

Maddison played a colourful string of curses in his head, frantically grabbing at his next best option, when a voice crawled into his mind. It was a woman's, and did not enter through his ears, it simply echoed in his mind.

"Turn back."

He eyed the statue, it did not fit the youth in the voice. The order had come from someone else, a child.

Maddison cursed under his breath, his facade fading as he tried to stare through Maynard's piercing gaze. The sorcerer had not taken his eyes off him for a second, the smile still on his face flipping Maddison's stomach as it mocked his choice.

He knew.

"Turn back!" The voice called again, this time filled with urgency.

Maddison swallowed his fear, his shoulders relaxing as the two unblinkingly shared gazes. To turn his back now was an invitation to meet his end. Maddison drifted his hand to his dagger, holding Maynard's gaze as he lowered his body in preparation to dive or dash. Maynard's smile drifted away as he watched Maddison move, and his eyes dropped to the weapon. Instead of moving to attack as Maddison had anticipated, his eyes widened, and his hands shook. He tried to hide the fact by concealing his hands behind his back, but his emotions were clear in his fidgeting lips.

He was... scared?

Maddison took a step back, Maynard mimicking his actions as the two sat chained to the mirror between them, a flurry of questions raking at Maddison's mind as he frantically scanned the sorcerer.

What could he possibly be afraid of? Could he hear the girl as well?

That couldn't be it. It wasn't as though it was threatening in its tone.

Maynard was a man with an entire town under his boot, and a flurry of spells at his fingertips. But he had turned cold, filled with a dread that sucked the blood from his face, and chased his gaze wherever he threw it. And he was throwing it everywhere. The statue, the ground, the shops, the sky, Maddison. Eventually the way he jerked his gaze around disoriented him and he tripped over his own feet backing away from the mercenary, the pedestal crumbling as he held his head in dumbfounded confusion, attempting to pace his rapid breathing by staring at the ground.

Maddison wasn't going to gawk at the show of weakness, seizing the opportunity to draw his sword instead and raise it above Maynard's head. A swift kill would leave Tarson less than satisfied, but given the pressing moment, it was all he could manage. He took in a sharp breath, closing his eyes in preparation for the execution, when a weak and broken voice wriggled into his ears.

"Where... am I?"

He opened his eyes, looking down at Maynard in puzzled silence as the man lifted his gaze, quickly drawing back in terror at the close proximity of the blade and raising his palms above his head in surrender.

"M-m-money! You want money?!"

"What?" Maddison whispered, his arms slowly dropping in confusion at the wreck of a man beneath him.

Maynard felt his pockets, his hands trembling so much he even struggled with turning them out as a drawn whimper escaped his trembling lips. "I don't- I- where was I...?" He felt the ground, only able to hold Maddison's gaze for a split second before he dropped it again in numb terror. "There's n-nothing- I... I can't, can't find anything..."

Maddison was tranced by the spectacle, his hands refusing to steal the man's life as he groveled around the grass, sobbing in fear at his lack of valuables. But as his tears reached their stride, his shaking shoulders rested, the last of his dried sniffles swallowed up as if an invisible force had offered him a soothing hug. Maynard slowly lifted his gaze to Maddison, who was still thunderstruck with confusion as he tried to comprehend the scene. His dark eyes glinting in the circling lights, and clearly lighting his gentle smile.

That same smile.

The fear inside Maddison jumped awake, casting his confusion away and ripping at his arms to steal the man's life.

But they wouldn't move.

He couldn't move.

A human statue anchored to the ground by a malicious hug of magic, the blade slipping from his stiff fingers and clattering to the ground. His mind screamed to run as Maynard rose to his feet, casually brushing off the expensive drapes covering him as he held a hollowed stare with Maddison's frozen gaze. The smile never faltered, even as he slowly waved his hand, and his gentle voice rose with a baleful wish. "Sweet dreams, Mr. Sungard."

And just like that, Maddison's world went black.