CHAPTER ONE – LOST LAMB
"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." ~ Lao Tzu
Hundreds of people clambered at the exit points on the large ferry as it came to rest at the ancient wharf, the sailors throwing out the line and securing it in place before the gangways were readied. Men and women pushed and shoved each other in their haste to get onto dry land, drawn to the flashing lights, excited noises, and enticing smells that hit them from the mainland and beckoned them away from the chilly night air that blew in from the ocean. The children squealed and waved their arms in the air as they were let off the boat, not waiting a moment longer than their parents made them before they sped towards the festivities.
But amongst the throngs of happy tourists looking for enjoyment, there was one person who couldn't have cared less about the events ashore.
He watched with uncaring eyes as the ferry slowly emptied itself of passengers, preferring to wait until last to depart. He slowly made his way to the gangway, not bothering to show courtesy to the people who barred his way; he simply pushed the younger ones aside and waited for the older ones to hurry out of his path. As his navy-blue shoes touched down on the wharf's well-worn planks, he took a deep breath and glanced back at the boat that had brought him here, his mouth twitching briefly into a frown before he focused back towards the island itself. He had landed on Shamouti Island, the cultural and geographical heart of the Orange Islands, and it was the time of year when the residents of Shamouti did what they do best.
It was time for the annual Legend Festival, and the island was celebrating in full swing.
There were rows upon rows of food stalls that packed the sides of the streets, which themselves were full to bursting with crowds of partiers of all ages, races and sizes; everyone was moving about, talking to the people closest to them, and having fun as the festive atmosphere grew and grew. A huge paper Gyarados, held up by a dozen festival performers, was paraded through the streets as part of the celebrations, and a formation of dancers dressed in strange, bird-like costumes danced around a totem pole in the centre of a large plaza, surrounded by a swarm of applauding onlookers.
He tried to get into the upbeat mood that the island was throwing at him, but he couldn't bring himself to celebrating, so he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his indigo jacket and stalked towards the crowds, hoping to find something that was more appealing to his taste. Shouts and smells bombarded him from all sides as he came closer to the centre of the action; obese men spruiked their goods every twenty or so feet, attracting many a gullible customer, and keen-eyed magicians performed so-called 'feats of wonder' in front of bands of wide-eyed boys and girls, who all screamed with delight as they conjured Buneary out of nowhere.
He smirked as he thought whether any of the brats were as keen-eyed as to actually notice the Abra hiding itself underneath each magician's table, but he knew that they weren't, and he quickly grew bored of the spectacle. His mouth twitching downward again, he turned away and moved down the road again, still looking for something that was exciting; exciting by his standards, at any rate.
"—Drain!" shouted a voice somewhere to his left, and his ears instantly perked up as he recognised it; it was an order for a Pokémon to attack. He smirked as he realised that, at last, there was something he could get distracted by, and he quickened his pace towards the source of the noise. There was a flash as a green glow slashed itself across the open space at the end of the next street, and so he was almost jogging by the time he reached the open square and saw what he was looking for.
A Pokémon battle.
He raised his eyebrows as he saw the two Pokémon that were standing in the middle of the huge, polished wooden platform that stood in the middle of the square, their figures illuminated by a criss-cross of yellow paper lanterns that hung on strings above the ground. The first one was a huge creature with a cream-coloured lower jaw and belly, its bulky blue arms and legs coming out of a huge brown shell mounted on its back. Two large cannons jutted out from small openings behind the Pokémon's arms, and its crimson eyes gleamed as it shot a thick jet of water from its turrets, only for the torrent to be stopped short by a wide beam of yellow light that was blasted from its foe's mouth.
The Blastoise's opponent was a huge, dinosaur-like Pokémon, its wide mouth splitting into an even wider grin that displayed pointed teeth and blood-red jaws. Its bumpy green skin looked as tough as concrete, stretching all the way down to its four trunk-like legs, each of which ended in three razor claws. A four-sided fern flopped about on top of the Pokémon's back, and growing out of the centre of the fern was a gigantic, beautiful flower, its mottled pink and yellow leaves bouncing up and down as their owner stamped its feet on the ground and roared.
"Venusaaa!" boomed the Pokémon. Venusaur's Trainer, standing at the edge of the platform, was a tall man in his early twenties with dark blue hair and piercing black eyes, his gaunt chin framed by the red collar of his coat.
"Excellent work, Bruteroot!" he commended. "Now finish Blastoise off with your Leaf Storm!" he commanded, and Venusaur roared as its hefty body was covered in bright green light. A moment later, a cloud of green leaves tore itself out of the core of its flower, swarming about like a horde of angry insects before launching themselves in a frenzy at the enemy Blastoise. Blastoise roared in pain as they slashed at its armoured hide, but the effort was too much, and it fell like a stone onto the ground with a final thump, spirals in its eyes.
"Shellshocker?!" shrieked the Water-type's Trainer, who was a young woman of the same age as the Venusaur's Trainer. She had mahogany-coloured hair that fell in a spiked mess around her shoulders, and she wore a curious blue shirt with a white collar, matching her sea-coloured cargo pants. With a resigned sigh, she held out her PokéBall and returned her Blastoise to its depths, hiding a frown as she walked towards the centre of the arena. The male Trainer recalled his Venusaur as well and met her in the middle, giving her a warm embrace and turning around to face the crowd with his arm around her waist.
"Now who wants to take on Neesha and I in a double battle?!" he called out to them. After a few moments, the blue-shoed spectator who had spotted them from the main street walked forwards and onto the platform, his head tilted slightly to the side as he made his way towards the middle. "Okay then! I'm Corey," he said sharply, holding out a hand, which his challenger shook. "What's your name, squirt?" he asked, leaning his head forwards to see a pair of cold, black eyes hidden under a fringe of purple hair.
"The name's Paul."
"Right then, Paul," Corey sneered, Neesha rolling her eyes at him in the background, "this'll be a two-on-two battle. Neesha and I send out one Pokémon each, and you have to beat us with your two, obviously. Understand?"
"More than you do," Paul muttered harshly, about-facing and walking back to his end of the makeshift arena. Corey bared his teeth in anger for a moment, unnerved by his challenger's lack of respect, but also because the latter was making him look like a fool in front of his partner and fiancée.
"Corey, you've got to be a bit smoother to kids," Neesha tittered, shrugging her shoulders and making her way back to their side. Corey flexed the muscles in his neck threateningly and swiftly turned around to follow her. Once he had joined her at the platform's edge, she nodded, smiled, and threw one of her PokéBalls into the air and shouted, "Come on out, Wigglytuff!"
The PokéBall burst open, and a huge pink Pokémon appeared on the polished floor. It had huge sea-green eyes, a pink curl of fur between its long, rabbit-like ears, and two stubby, marshmallow-like arms that curled into fists in front of its white belly. Paul grunted knowingly as he recognised the Pokémon as a Wigglytuff; he didn't need his Pokédex to know that. Nor did he need his Pokédex for the Pokémon that suddenly appeared out of the PokéBall that Corey hurled forward, because it was one he was actually carrying inside one of the PokéBalls on his waist.
Corey's Pokémon was a huge, armoured shape that stood on two bulky grey legs, a long tail sliding onto the wood behind its body. A line of ridge-like protrusions wound their way up the Pokémon's back, culminating in a grey horn situated between the two stubby ears on top of its head. An even larger horn stood proudly in front of the first, shaped like a drill and situated where its nose should have been. Its thick arms smacked against its iron-hard chest, and it took up a battle stance as both it and Wigglytuff waited for Paul to call his Pokémon.
"Stand by for battle!" he shouted, tossing two PokéBalls onto the ground in front of him. The first PokéBall split open to reveal a large bird covered in steel-grey armour, the folds of its wings like knives as they opened up to show the scarlet under-feathers. Its three-clawed talons dug into and scratched the hard floor, and it tossed its head proudly, showing off the horn-like ridge rising up out of the rear of its head.
The second PokéBall opened up right next to the Skarmory that had just been summoned, and the Pokémon that came out of the ball was small enough that it probably could have saddled itself on its teammate's back; it was at least two feet smaller than the Flying-type, the majority of its body covered in short, sooty blue fur, only receding at the base of the Pokémon's claws, which were wickedly sharp and curved as well. There was a small yellow stone on its forehead, right between its tiny red eyes, and a crown of red feathers grew out of the top of its head, around its neck, under its ears, and even forming its tail.
"Wii wii!" hissed the Weavile, looking indifferently at the Rhydon standing opposite.
"Wigglytuff, use Hyper Voice!" Neesha shouted, and Wigglytuff seemed to double in size instantly as it sucked in air to use for its attack.
"Weavile, Skarmory, cancel the sound with Screech and Metal Sound!" Paul barked. Weavile let out a hideous, ear-splitting noise between its fangs, and Skarmory scraped the tips of its wings against the hard steel that covered its torso. Wigglytuff moaned and covered its delicate ears to try and stop the pain, but Paul's Pokémon continued their attack to the point that the entire square was clutching at their heads and shouting out in distress. Paul stuck his fingers in his ears, but gave no other sign for his Pokémon to stop, and soon Corey's Rhydon succumbed to the noise as well and bellowed in agony.
"Ice Shard!" he roared at Weavile, who shut its mouth and formed a glistening blue sphere in front of its claws. As Skarmory continued to hold its foes down with its Metal Sound, Weavile lobbed the orb through the air, clicking its tongue with fierce joy as it slammed into Rhydon and knocked the Drill Pokémon off its feet, crashing into the concrete beyond the wooden platform.
"Rhydon, get back in there!" Corey hissed. "And use Megahorn on that pesky Weavile!" Rhydon growled menacingly as its drill-horn started to glow with a pale green light, and it suddenly rushed to its feet and stampeded across the square, the pounding of its feet against the ground making tremors that bumped Weavile into the air every time. Rhydon lowered its head and threw itself at the Dark-type, who agilely jumped towards the moon, easily dodging the rampage and landing on the other side of Rhydon as the latter ran straight into a brick wall.
"Wigglytuff, knock Weavile flying with Rollout!" Neesha shouted, and Wigglytuff bounded forwards at once, curling itself up and speeding forwards in an arrow-straight path towards Weavile, who was caught unawares and thrown high into the sky with a pained howl.
"Skarmory, catch Weavile on the way down and use Steel Wing on Rhydon! Weavile, get ready for Ice Punch on that furball!" Paul snarled. Skarmory spread its wings wide, mercifully ending its horrendous Metal Sound attack – much to the relief and joy of the crowd of onlookers – and shot up like a bullet towards Weavile, who spread its limbs wide as it fell and used its feathers for drag. The Sharp Claw Pokémon fell lightly onto its fellow's back as it crowed and dove down towards the ground, its grey wings becoming engulfed in white light. Weavile stood up on Skarmory, its feathers blowing about, and curled one of its fists up as it shone with frost.
Just as Skarmory came within feet of the ground, Weavile hopped gracefully from its back and leapt at Rhydon, slamming its glittering clawed fist straight into the side of Rhydon's craggy face, the Drill Pokémon staggering sideways and crashing into the ground once more. Skarmory flicked its wings sideways as it flew it Wigglytuff, the glowing tips slicing along the Normal-type's flank and throwing it across the platform. Wigglytuff collapsed in a spread-eagled heap on the field, twitched twice, then slumped as it fell unconscious, and Weavile hit Rhydon with a cruel Night Slash to the stomach, rendering it unable to battle in a heartbeat.
"This battle is over," Paul muttered darkly, and, without a word of congratulations to either of his Pokémon, he returned them both to their PokéBalls. "Not that you two put up much of fight," he added nastily. But his head snapped around when, out of the blue, he heard a loud, steady round of applause coming from someone in the crowd. He pursed his lips and folded his arms, but Corey and Neesha seemed to know who the person was, because they looked knowingly at each other and recalled their Pokémon, moving over to stand next to Paul.
"Don't even think you're flattering yourself," Corey whispered dangerously, digging his hands into the pockets of his pants. "You'll be getting your come-uppance soon enough. Then that smug look will be gone quicker than if you tasted a mouthful of ash."
Paul's face twitched uncontrollably with white-hot rage, and Corey noticed it, because he sneered and turned to face the crowd just as an elderly man stepped out from the front and made for the platform. He had a mohawk of silvery hair, thick eyebrows and a ridiculously oversized moustache that fell down the sides of his mouth and seemed to go on for a long time, finally stopping at the same level as his chest. He raised his hands dramatically, and the crowd fell into a hushed silence, wondering what was about to happen.
"I have seen your exploits, young Trainer," he boomed, his voice rough like sandpaper, "and they are most impressive! Talents such as yours have not been seen on Shamouti Island for many a long time, and certainly not at this most opportune of nights! People, behold this Pokémon Trainer!" he shouted to the crowd, who, as if on cue, started cheering and celebrating, much to Paul's bemusement.
"What are you d—?" he began to ask.
"Don't let it get to your head… uh…" the old man said, turning to Corey and whispering, "what's his name?"
"Paul."
"Uh, right—Paul! You see, this festival needs a Pokémon Trainer to work, and we normally pick the first Trainer who arrives on the island! But there have been so many Trainers appearing this year, and so we've had a hard time finding the right one," he explained, "so I entrusted Corey and Neesha—" he waved his hand at the couple, "to hold tryouts for the best Trainer here! You beat both of them in such an impressive fashion, and you seem to fit all the… other qualities… that I was looking for, so I've decided that you will be that special Trainer!"
"I'm flattered, but no thanks," Paul muttered, turning away, but the man's arm lashed out and grabbed his.
"This isn't really something you can get out of," he said kindly, but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of danger in his voice; clearly, Paul was this festival's 'special Trainer' whether he liked it or not.
"Fine, I'll be your Trainer," he said ruefully.
"Then you're also cordially invited to the Legend Banquet!" he announced, to another chorus of cheers. "I'm Marius, the elder of Shamouti Island, and I'm also the one in charge of this festival!" he added cheerily. "This way to the banquet hall, Paul," he said formally, waving his hand towards a beaten path at the edge of the square. Paul hesitated, preferring to be alone right now, but he remembered the tone of Marius' voice earlier and decided against refusing the man again. He nodded, and allowed himself to be guided out of the square and up the winding path. Corey and Neesha watched the two males depart, then turned back to the audience, who were looking back at them expectedly.
"Well, don't just stand there!" Corey said loudly, grabbing Neesha's hands. "This is a festival, so let's get festive!" he shouted, jerking his head towards a group of musicians, who moved onto the platform and immediately started playing some upbeat music. He and Neesha started dancing on the platform-turned-stage, and the tourists and townspeople quickly joined in, making as much noise as they could as they resumed their celebrations.
Paul finished eating the orange pear he was holding between his fingers, carelessly tossing the core back onto the plate in front of him. He was quietly thankful to Marius that he'd been given a table all to himself; he needed some small piece of solitude on this bustling island, and between the packed ferry and the equally packed streets, he hadn't had a moment of peace all day long.
What am I even doing here? he asked himself, allowing his eyes to wander around the hall. It was a wide, spacious area, dotted with stone pillars and small, round tables piled high with bowls of tropical fruits, platters of meats, loaves of bread and jugs of sweet juices. It was an open hall, and he could feel the wind blowing in from the outside, the breeze ruffling at his hair and his face. He impatiently drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for the first chance he could get to be able to leave the hall and lodge in the island's Pokémon Center for some sleep; sleep had slowly become a rare thing for him over the last couple of months, ever since he had left his home region of Sinnoh.
He was snapped out of his deep reverie by the haunting sound of a flute being played, and his eyes whizzed around the room to find the source of the noise. Suddenly, the torches lighting the hall were extinguished by some unseen means, and a pair of spotlights pointed beams of light at a raised stage at the front of the hall. Out from behind a passage in the side of the wall stepped a teenage girl, and it was she who was playing the strange melody, from an ocarina made out of seashell and stone.
She was a very slender girl, with large blue eyes that were in stark contrast to her reddish-brown hair, which fell behind her in two distinct tails that reached down to her back. Her sideburns fell down and brushed her shoulders, which were bare because she was dressed in a sleeveless teal shirt, and a long, flowing white dress with a red brim that stopped just below the knee. She was also wearing a white veil on top of her head, held in place by a wreath of wildflowers, and it reached even further down than her dress, almost reaching her yellow, open-toed shoes.
As she played, he could see, out of the corner of his eye, the other people who were gathered in the hall as they swayed to and fro, clearly moved by the tune she was playing. He turned his attention back to the girl, and snorted, unimpressed, as he shook his head and turned away, preferring to look at the ocean outside. He heard a flutter and a falter in her music, and he smirked to himself as he realised that she'd heard him, but she continued to play that same strange melody as if determined not to let him get to her.
Paul briefly glanced back to the stage, and he saw that the musician had started to dance while she was playing. Not that he considered it dance; to him, it looked like she was drunkenly tiptoeing back and forth, occasionally running to a spot only a few feet away before starting the whole mundane process again. He'd had enough, he decided, and so he stood up to leave.
As if on cue, the music suddenly stopped, and all eyes in the hall turned to Paul; he couldn't see them, but he could feel their stares burning into the back of his neck. He slowly turned his head around, and saw that the ocarina-girl was steadily walking towards him, placing the instrument in a cloth bag that she had slung over her shoulder. He turned away again, expecting some poor insults to be hurled his way, but all he heard was the sound of her footsteps as she finally reached him, and then there was silence.
He furrowed his brow; he wasn't expecting that. Slowly, carefully, he turned his head just enough so that he could glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and planted her lips on his cheek for a quick kiss. He felt it and recoiled in shock, swinging around and his mouth half-open to shout at her, but Marius leapt up from his table some distance away and began applauding, where he was soon followed by the rest of the audience in the hall.
"Bravo, Melody! A wonderful performance, as always!" he boomed, and the girl nodded her head in thanks. "Paul, this is Melody, our Festival Maiden!" he said, introducing the two to each other.
"What the hell did you kiss me for?!" Paul demanded, his face livid and beet-red.
Marius blinked. "Why, it's nothing—" he began, but Melody stepped in front of the old man and glared at Paul.
"Hey, it's a part of the festival," she said fiercely, pointing her finger at him. "The festival maiden gives the Chosen One a kiss as part of his coronation. You should consider yourself lucky that I didn't slap you after trying to leave during my performance, you arrogant jerk! So don't flatter yourself by thinking that I gave you that kiss out of free will. But judging by how red your cheeks are, I'd say you were thinking just that!" she added with a haughty smirk, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows as Paul fumed.
"I must say, Paul, I haven't seen a Chosen One blush from this maiden's kiss for quite a while!" Marius chortled, trying to lift the sour mood of the moment and clapping a hand on Paul's shoulder. The latter's eye ticked. "Not since a young boy by the name of Ash Ketchum, if I recall!" he added, and the crowd laughed good-heartedly.
"Ash Ketchum…?" Paul whispered through his teeth, and Marius backed away when he saw the young man's hands shake as they turned into white-knuckled fists. "Ash Ketchum…" He clenched his jaw and gave Melody a murderous stare before turning on his heel and storming out of the hall, muttering inaudible curses as he left a shocked silence in his wake.
TO BE CONTINUED…