Chapter Two: Fate's Deja vu

A few days passed, and Girsham and Falda traveled on dirt roads, and through thick forests, traveling by carriage whenever generosity would allow them to. It was the farthest they'd ever been from Lohan, and were totally clueless as to where they were. Girsham felt uneasy about it, but Falda was ecstatic. She was finally pushing forward, going somewhere.

It even nearly destroyed the awareness that half their money and food were depleted.

Yet as fate would have it that was to become one of their smaller worries as the sun set on the fourth day of their journey northward. They sat on piles of hay in the back cabin of a passing carriage, as the two horses clopped their way into Hoax. Falda stuck her head out of the side of the wagon and looked around.

"You'd think they'd make a famous place like this look a little nicer," Falda said. Girsham agreed. The two had lost their parents when they were three, and never received proper schooling, but no one, NO ONE didn't know about the Dragoons, who fought the fate given to the world by Soa. Nearly a century ago, seven warriors, weilding the power of Dragons, as told only by what the people of Endiness thought of as legend, killed a god, the god which was 'destined' to end the world. At the end of that campaign, the Dragoons seemed to just disappear. They swiftly wove back into the crowd that sought to deify them, and were never seen or heard from again. No one knew what became of the Dragoons, other than Albert, who married his love, Emille, but it was widely known that he grew old, and senile, and lost his Dragoon Spirit on a walk some sixty years ago.

Hoax was one of the few places that still held testament to the great courage those seven people used to fight fate itself. But one would never know that from the outside. The heavy wooden doors unlocked, and slowly swung open to welcome the carriage into the town.

The twins hopped off the wagon after a quick "thank you" to the driver, and took a gaze around the town, back to back. The town was rather small, mostly absorbed in the barracks that made it evident that the town also served as a fort in times of conflict.

The outside base of the town was nothing more than dirt, packed very hard from constant treading for over a century. The homes were modest, containing the families of the knights on duty. However, this modestly constructed town provided a dim surrounding for a beautiful sculpture along the back wall. The entire piece was made of brass that was obviously shined daily. It was a depiction of the moment that one of the Dragoons, Rose, woke up the spirit of the Red Eye Dragon, and made the young warrior, Dart Feld the first fire Dragoon in eleven thousand years.

It had Rose's figure hanging from the wall itself, in her Dragoon armor, to make the viewer see that she'd been in the air. She had her blade, a rapier, pointed at Dart's chest, but all that was shone was the young man's head, and his outline in a wide, shocked stance. But his body was wreathed in flames, but his expression was quizzical, not a wince of agony, or a scream, that someone would obviously expect to see on someone being scorched by fire. Girsham looked closer, and saw that the fire covering Dart's body had all sprouted from the gem around Dart's neck.

"Wow, somebody spent a lot of time on that," Falda said in awe.

"Someone was a huge fan," Girsham said with a chuckle. "After all, who wouldn't be? The planet owes the Dragoons their lives." Falda shrugged.

"I'd be more thankful if I met them in person," she said.

"Too bad they're all dead then, huh?" Girsham said.

"Yup, too bad."

"Girsham looked around, until he saw a small door with 'HOTEL' scribbled meekly at eye level. He turned to his sister, who was observing the watch tower on the eastern side.

"Hey, let's check in and stay the night," he said.

"You know, we dont have that much money left," Falda warned.

"Yeah, but we'll make due, like always," Girsham said. "We'll have to."

Falda looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. "All right."

They checked in and walked into their room, and threw what little baggage they had on the beds. They each grabbed some bread and took a swig of water from their canteens.

"Well I dont know about you, but a warm bed beats the bales of hay and rustled leaves we've been sleeping in the last week or so. I'm hitting the sac for a while. What about you?" Girsham asked.

Falda looked at the bed thoughtfully, then shook her head after a moment. "Nah, I'll wait awhile, I wanna look more around the town. Nothing's happening, right?"

"What do you mean?" Girsham asked, tilting his head quizzically.

"Well it doesn't ring pleasant with me that a town would be so…I dont know…well fortified if it wasn't in any danger. What about you?" Falda asked.

"…I dont think there'd be any danger we wouldn't have heard about in Lohan. It could just be an extension of that statue," Girsham said.

"What do you mean?"

"Like they could be keeping Hoax looking the way it did a century ago, to preserve the style of its greatest moments. Just a guess." Girsham said, flopping down in bed.

Falda looked around the room. There were cobwebs decorating the rafters, and the room definitely smelled old, like rotting wood, somewhere on the floor and behind the walls. Girsham's theory was a definite possibility, but why keep guards on the lookout?

"Yeah I guess I'll just sight see for a while," she said. Girsham shrugged, already nestled into a comfortable little niche in his bed.

"Go ahead, but you're missing out on something very nice," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'll find out about that soon enough," she said. Girsham closed his eyes as she closed the door behind her and passed out immediately…

When he opened them again there was no light shining through the circular window above the doorway. Through it, however, he saw the blue veil of night and the twinkle of twilight. He smiled. He'd slept several hours, and felt refreshed.

He made his bed, took another gulp of water and walked outside with the canteens, filling them with water from the town well. After placing them back in the room, he walked outside, and scanned the ground level of the fort for his sister. His eyes fell on her own ice blue pair, as she sat on the ground in front of the brass figure.

She'd been sitting there for a half hour, admiring the detail given to the monument. Girsham approached her, and sat down. "It's a really nice sculpture, probably worth a few hundred in gold," Girsham said with a chuckle. Falda elbowed him lightly.

"Yeah. But for one, we dont have the means of getting it away. And for two, it's got to be some kind of sick taboo to steal or desecrate anything pertaining to the Dragoons," she said.

"Maybe," Girsham. "But if we had our own wagon."

Falda elbowed him a little bit harder, and they laughed together. This was nice, this was…

FLIT!!!

Directly between them, an arrow struck the dirt, with the feather at the end, covered in blood. The twins bolted to their feet, but saw not arrows coming down at them, but the body of one of the guards. From the tower above them, in the darkness a voice shouted.

"THE UNDEAD!!! THEY'RE HERE!!"

"The what!?" Falda said. Just then, a soldier came out of the house to their left, with an insignia that the twins figured was a symbol of authority.

"Where are they!?" the man bellowed.

"Coming from northeast, Sir! I count thirteen!!" the watchmen shouted.

"Allan!!! We're under attack! Sound the alarm!" the knight ordered into the night. Then he looked around, and saw the twins. "You!! get inside! Now!!"

"What's going on!?" Girsham demanded.

"The Undead are upon us, with all of thirteen soldiers!" The knight said with a curse. They heard a whistle and he pulled the twins out of the open, into a corner.

"You must seek shelter!" he said.

"What do you mean by the Undead?" Falda asked.

"Where have you been!? Something is keeping the dead from staying…well…dead!" he said. Somewhere outside the wall they were up against, they heard screams. "They've been a plague on Endiness for nearly a decade, and what's worse is they're becoming organized!"

"Well we can help," Falda said.

"Can you now? What are your names?" The knight asked.

"Girsham."

"Falda."

"I am Edward Junesporough, Head of the Seventh Knighthood of Serdio. Do you have weapons? I wouldn't typically allow civilians to fight, but numbers are some of the only ways to fend off the dead."

"We have weapons, and we're…experienced," Falda said. Edward gave her a strange look after hearing her hesitance, but disgarded it as a soldier fell before them.

"Take his head off!" Edward ordered.

"WHAT!?" Girsham said.

"If you want to fight for me you have to be able to do that, it wont kill them right off but it will destroy his ability to balance himself if he comes back. Cut his head off or find shelter!" Edward said.

Falda stepped forward, with her tomahawk in hand. She raised it, but Girsham could feel that she didn't want to bring it down on that corpse. He didn't want her to, but at the same time was afraid of the consequences of her not taking action. He remained silent, it was her choice…

Just then three people jumped off the wall, and landed on the ground before Falda, who jumped back in shock.

"How did they do that!? Their legs should be broken!" Girsham said.

"They probably are," Edward said. "I've seen greater injuries be ignored by these monsters."

"Who are you calling a monster?" said the person in the middle. He turned, and Girsham fought the immediate urge to vomit. The man was as tall as he was, but hunched, parts of his face were decayed, revealing rotten muscle, and a few teeth. His eye lids were gone, which gave him the look of a sad sad soul. "We meet again, Edward."

Girsham and Falda looked to Edward, who was awestruck, and speechless.

"D-Donald! No, no not you!"

"Yes, me. Are you surprised? The grave you dug me was so shallow," he said, he raised his sword, and charged at Edward, who barely snapped out of it in time to defend himself. Girsham whipped out his knives, and threw one into the neck of the man on the left. He coughed, and pulled it out, wielding it as he'd had no previous weapon.

Girsham had never really killed a person. He'd injured a few insolent bastards in knife fights in the alleys of Lohan, but nothing serious. He thought that trick would work for him if he ever really needed to take a life…obviously he'd need a little more.

"You must do your best to incapacitate them! If we live until morning we will bury them deep in the ground!" Edward said as he locked swords with the one called Donald. The reference to a deep grave seemed to enrage Donald, so he began to fight harder.

In a second, Girsham was in a world of pain. The undead man that he'd stabbed with his knife had cut him across the chest. Blood began to poor from the wound. Girsham cried out angrily, and stabbed back at the creature.

The man was obviously trained in handling knives. He parried all of Girsham's blows, and suddenly had his hands around Girsham's throat. Thinking quickly, Girsham gave a strong slice the man's hand. The man grunted, and flailed, and his blood dribbled all over Girsham's forehead. Once again, Girsham had to fight the urge to vomit.

Flada was locked in a battle with the third undead soldier, and totally unable to help her brother. No matter how quick she tried to be, nothing was stopping this creep.

The angry undead swung Girsham around with inhuman strength, and threw him clear across the courtyard, right into the statue of Dart Feld. The blood on his forhead ran down his face as he fought to stay conscious, and he found himself looking down ad the blood dripping onto Dart's chest…

It was funny, the now red looking gem resembled something, but he was far too confused to think of what…

Finally, it hit him, as the undead man grabbed his throat with the other hand, and began pummeling Girsham in the gut with his bloody stump, Girsham realized that Dart's Dragoon Spirit looked just like Falda's gem…But could it be?

There was only one way to find out. Girsham did something he didn't believe to be very honorable, but then again, lives were at stake. He planted his boot right into the soldier's groin. That blow still seemed to hold some sway with him, as he cringed and fell over. Girsham picked up his dagger, pointed it at the now surrounded Falda, and shouted.

"Wake up!!! Dragoon of the Red Eyed Dragon!!!"

Falda, and the two undead cornering her for that matter, stopped. They all looked at Girsham, as if he was a fool.

"Did you hit your head REALLY hard on that statue? Because it sounded like you just called me the-"

FWOOOSH!!!!

Suddenly Falda was covered in flames! The heat was nearly unbearable to Girsham, but the undead were flaking away, being in such close range. She flew into the air!

Girsham stared in awe at his sister, watching her blossom into a red suit of armor, with a green reptilian eye in the center. The armor fit tightly, with short paldrons that ended in razor sharp blades, curved upward. There was a red bandanna around her forehead, and under her hair, with what appeared to be five other green eyes, smaller than the one between her breasts. Her biceps were uncovered, but she had red gaunlets that reached up to more spikes on her elbows. The waist down was rather like a battle gown, with hip and thigh guards traveling down to the knee, where they met up with a high heeled boot. Yet the most amazing feature of the armor were what looked like wings. They were spires of red steel protruding from her back, spouting white hot flames, in the shape of wings! She looked at her hands in awe as her tomahawk became bigger, and more fierce, and on her left wrist, a crossbow fired into existence.

Falda shouted out of shock and excitement, and looked down at the two undead that had previously cornered here. Her hands glowed orange, and then white, as she gathered magic, and fired down on their heads. The two soldiers burst into flame, and collapsed on top of themselves, no more.

She looked down to Girsham, and with a sudden shout cried, "You know what this means right!?" She pointed her tomahawk at Girsham. "Darkness Dragoon! Awaken!"

Girsham suddenly felt a pulse of power plow through his veins, so strong it was almost painful. His gem…Dragoon Spirit emerged from his pocket, and plunged into his chest. The power he felt before increased tenfold, as he felt cold darkness surrounding his body, and thickening. It wrapped around his forehead, and around his legs and wrists, and when the darkness subsided, thick yet light armor covered his body. His own wings were orange, and made to look rather translucent, but not of his element. His armor was much the same as his sister's, but tinted indigo, and the gem in the center was brown. He looked to the undead man named Donald, and threw both of his now much flashier knives. They caught him in both sides of his chest as he was preparing to deliver a death blow down onto Edward.

Beams poured out of the gems at the hilts of his knives, and into the gem on Girsham's chest. Beneath his armor, he felt the cut closing and healing, as well as much of his stamina returning.

"Well that's a useful trick," he said to himself. He willed his knives to return, and they did…after cutting Donald several times. He fell to the ground, lifeless.

"Remarkable," Edward said.

Girsham flew up to his sister, and the grabbed hands. Neither one thought much, it was as if they were following the influence of their armor. They began to spin, and the fire of Falda's wings began to spread. Then, out of every crease in Girsham's armor, black smoke poured out, all the while the twins spun faster.

Edward watched as suddenly the twins were wrapped in a maroon flame, and then saw that fire spread out over the entire fort. It passed right through him, but he saw every single undead cringe in fire that seemed to be burning the very souls that inhabited them. When the fire dissipated, there were no undead left…undead.

"Oh, my god," Edward said. The twins landed, and an indigo and crimson light filled the area, and when that light died out, the twins were themselves again.

Girsham and Falda suddenly felt more fatigued than they had ever felt in their lives, they passed out onto the ground together, taking no heed to the dirt, or the blood.

Author's Note: Sorry about the wait, guys. Busy busy busy. What do you think? A century has gone by since Endiness has seen action like that. Is there more in store for Girsham and Falda? You bet! Please Review! It really will make the next chapter come up faster!