The Trader

~It Wants The Girl~

Credit for the amazing new cover goes to reederistic!

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The Trader was not at all pleased. 

It gazed into the empty, silvery plates of its scales, watching a slightly distorted image of the current proceedings inside the city of Under. As usual, Oren Emberwood yapped on and on about its horrid nature and evil intentions. That monster defamed it shamelessly before the Councilors of Under themselves, raising his arms as he delivered a passionate onslaught of insults. A frown crossed the Trader's face at the sound of his words, and it hissed, baring its teeth beneath the thin surface of its metallic mask. 

As if banishing it from his city for a nonexistent offense wasn't enough, Oren just had to ensure that it was hated and feared by every single one of his passive, oblivious citizens.

Yet, its annoyance was very quickly replaced by a deep satisfaction, as the tide of the meeting turned. A new speaker now stood before the leaders of Under, speaking in a cool but commanding voice that, to a great extent, mirrored its own. 

It laughed softly along with the members of the Council as they ridiculed their leader for his belief in the existence of dark magic. 

Carefully, it observed as Lorianne Winters, its favorite member of the Council, exited the room with great confidence. Everything had gone according to plan. 

However, instead of returning to the party downstairs, Lorianne stopped just outside the meeting room to speak to a girl who had been previously reading a book. The Trader narrowed its eyes in recognition and mild confusion as it pondered the cause of this particular girl's presence in the hallway. It had seen that girl many times before. 

Arylline Emberwood, daughter of Oren and Deirdre Emberwood.  

Other than the family from which she hailed, there was nothing particularly remarkable about Arylline. Except...

The Trader's face lit up underneath its thin, metal mask as it recalled one of the girl's most defining characteristics. Her love of the land above. 

Perfect. 

The pieces began to slide together in its brain as it formulated yet another section of its greatest plot yet. With the success of this, it would finally avenge the wrongs the Emberwoods had done. It would finally be at peace. 

"Fyn-Ling! Jareth!" it yelled authoritatively, not caring to leave its stony throne to look for its assistants. 

Within seconds, the two spirits had materialized before it. They bowed simultaneously, their seaweed hair floating around their heads like a pair of greenish halos. 

"I want the girl," The Trader said simply. 

"What girl?" Fyn-Ling scrunched up her face in confusion. 

"That girl!" Jareth replied. 

"Wait...you mean that one or the other one?" 

"I'm certain it's the other one. Or maybe the other other one."

"Arylline Emberwood, you imbeciles!" The Trader bellowed, bringing their conversation to an abrupt halt. 

"An Emberwood?" Fyn-Ling smirked. 

"Looks like Tradey's lost its brainey," Jareth snickered. 

The Trader was not amused. 

"As I was about to tell you, Arylline loves Land more than anything else, and wishes with all her heart to visit it. And, when someone wishes strongly enough for something..." it paused, giving the two spirits a chance to complete its sentence. 

"We give 'em some pink caramel popcorn!" Jareth grinned. 

"We Trade," the Trader sighed with frustration. "Councilor Winters has already presented her with a Trading Pin. The magic housed within it will grant her access to this cavern. All I need from you is a little...coercion." 

"Ooh, torture?" Fyn-Ling clapped her hands together in excitement. 

"I would like her here in one piece, and agreeable to a Trade," The Trader hissed. "And, if she arrives in any other condition, there will be severe consequences for both of you." 

"Can't hurt what's already dead." Jareth blew a raspberry, holding up his translucent arm so that it was in The Trader's field of vision. 

The Trader smiled slightly, though this was not visible through its mask, which constantly maintained a stone-cold glare. 

"I can." 

"How?" Fyn-Ling stuck out her tongue. 

"Would you like to find out?" The Trader asked simply, slowly standing up from its seat on its rocky throne. The moment it had risen to its full height, both spirits were immediately tossed against the jagged back wall of the cavern. The Trader tapped the precious scales that sat beside it twice, and a jolt of concentrated pain shot through their bodies. 

"We get it! We understand!" Jareth squealed as he unsuccessfully tried to wriggle out of The Trader's magical grasp. 

"Good," The Trader spat, releasing them. They fell unceremoniously to the floor, groaning as they rubbed their sore limbs. 

"Keeping the current situation in mind, the girl will most probably come to us of her own accord. She is, after all, quite dissatisfied with her family. Lorianne Winters has also quite cleverly placed the notion in her mind that her father is not so honest a leader as she believes him to be. Doubts will grow into suspicions, which will grow into distrust. Soon, she shall honestly feel that her family is the enemy. And that, my friends, is when we will strike." 

Jareth and Fyn-Ling looked at each other, taking a moment to fully comprehend The Trader's words. 

"However, there is the chance that she will be too timid to approach a deep, dark cavern alone," The Trader continued. "That is where you come in. You shall befriend her and keep her company on the long journey. You shall make her feel at ease. After all, fear coupled with an unknown environment and unknown people produces paranoia. And nobody makes a deal when they're paranoid."

"Could we, perhaps, assassinate Oren Emberwood while we're at it?" Fyn-Ling pouted, her eyes pleading. 

The Trader scowled. "No! I want him to be alive until the very end. I want him to watch his carefully guarded empire collapse right before his eyes. No, I shall not allow him the mercy of an early death! His hopes shall be dashed upon the foamy rocks of the beach, just as mine once were. He shall be driven to the very brink of insanity, and perhaps over it, before he is allowed to rest in his salty grave."

The two spirits stared at their master with a mixture of excitement and horror, as they thought about what it planned to do to Under's beloved leader. 

"Yes, I am aware that my speech was quite mesmerizing, but do stop staring at me like that with your undead mouths agape." The Trader dismissed the spirits with a wave of its hand. "Now, begone! I have much to do." 

With that, it turned back to its scales, zoning in on its target as it prepared to scrutinize Arylline's every move.