Adventures of Captain Xdey by Laura Dasnoit

up by a shimmering metallic cane that was fastened together with square nails. “I do hope I am not interrupting this glorious creation,” Nix said as he gestured around him. The lingering crowd’s attention clung to the leader in awe. He could do no wrong in their eyes. “I would like to see a preview of the main event.”
    Much like the bronze statue, Nix walked upright, shoulders back, chest out. He always seemed to be on the prowl, like a fox ten steps ahead of the hounds. His thumb and forefinger glided along his thin mustache as he took the arm of a redheaded tattooed lady. The painted lady licked her hand and sliced the salvia down his cowlick. Xoey crinkled up her nose and cringed at the sight. She had heard rumors of relatives licking napkins and using the spit to wipe smudges off one’s face. Nix wore a crisp silver jacket, matching pants, and fabric-covered buttons to match. A small copper gear was pinned neatly on his lapel. Under the flaps of his white shirt, a black ribbon rested in a soft billowing bow.
    It was pure madness. In many ways, it was electrifying for Xoey to watch. People pushed through the crowds, costumes in hand, some half on and half off. One man attempted to jump into his striped pants. Xoey cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to erupt at the sight.
    Animals of enormous strength and magnitude were coaxed into tutus and red bows. She could see a man in a blue jacket with tails that curled to avoid touching the floor. He had radiant emerald eyes, thick rosy cheeks, and a dashing white toothy smile. With such a personable presence, Xoey did not expect his voice to be demure in his attempts to calm the crowd. He noticed he was failing and failing miserably, so he grabbed a chrome plated microphone. “Settle down!” The resounding bass in his voice was unexpected, and Xoey banged her head on the thick wood above her.
    The tattooed lady tapped Nix on the shoulder and pointed intently in Xoey’s direction Afraid of being discovered, Xoey slid out of the hole. She hissed at getting her hair caught in a bent nail. Out of the hole, she saw a ladder that led down into the unknown darkness below.
    Unwilling to be caught, she pulled her sleeves over her hands, grabbed the outer railing, took a deep breath, and slid down. The ground was murky, damp, and smelled like sweaty socks mixed with dead rodents. She looked down at her red, raw hands and made a mental note to find some Yaw Ointment. If Grittle was anything like her home, the Yaw plant was found in dry and sunny regions. The thick hide was centered at the base as the branches spiraled to harbor red and yellow delicate flowers that dripped with the healing sap. Jesco, with the aid of his tail, jumped down the stairs.
    “Find her!” she heard a voice from above say. Xoey gulped, replaced her hat which had fallen half way down the slide, and ran down the long dark tunnel. Metal carvings on the stone walls signified warnings that she did not understand. A sound behind her clanged as she weaved past the first awning and ducked down into the next. The echo of footfalls drummed in her direction. She could hear her heartbeat pounding through her skin.
    From the darkness behind her a gentle noise tickled her ear. “This way.” She froze in terror. The footsteps were growing closer and Xoey turned back to the voice to see a man in battered clothing that looked to have been bashed against a sharp edged rock face for weeks. “Decyl sent me…just in case.” Xoey nodded to the dark man. It wasn’t odd for her to see those of the midnight skin. They were the assassins, built for keen sight, and remained in tune with the natural world. He bent down to her level. “Follow me.”
    “Won’t they see us?” she muttered under her breath, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear. The man paused long enough to pull her ahead of him. The men who were chasing her ran down the corridor and parted, subconsciously it