HEALER, KILLER
By Amanda Swiftgold
BOOK ONE: DRAGOON SPIRITS GATHER
Chapter Three
Worried, Shirley looked up at the sleeping child, trying to gauge her expression past the fall of her brightly-colored hair. Two days had passed since their rushed entrance into Gloriano proper, and since then Damia had been having nightmares that kept her awake. So they would still be able to keep moving, Belzac had been carrying her when she nodded off, letting her sleep over his shoulder as they traveled.
Shirley had tried, without success, to get the girl to tell her about the bad dreams; she was sure that they stemmed from the fight in the outpost, but she wasn't sure how to assuage Damia's fears. Everyone was exposed to death and dying eventually, but this particularly violent sort was hard for even adults to handle, much less someone who was still only twelve.
Half-smiling at her anxiety, Belzac shook his head. "We aren't far now," he commented, nodding toward the large hill just ahead of them.
"That's right. Would you wake her when we get there?" Shirley asked him, receiving his nod in return. "We'll be able to see Fort Magrad right over that hill, Kanzas," she announced calmly, glancing toward him before finding the sight of the hill in front of her greatly interesting. He had grown very distant since she'd refused to explain the Dragoon power to him, but she'd felt his gaze on her many times since then, just watching her closely.
Rather than bring it up, or respond to it, she merely ignored it, trying to act normal and talk as casually with him as with the other two. Still, some strange emotion inside her made her feel clumsy, and she wondered if he could tell from her voice. She hadn't felt this way since she'd been younger, awkwardly courted by the boy from the neighboring farm - but those days were far in the past, and had nothing to do with what was happening now, Shirley assured herself.
The fortress before them was huge, a great stony mass built into another high hill, its walls thick and tall. The tops of the walls were covered in spikes, long and curved like claws, which both rimmed the top of the wall pointing downward and drew together in a dome-like shape near the top, as if to protect Magrad from the sky itself. There were tall gates visible, and something of a road piercing through the snow in a northerly direction, though it was only really cleared off near the city. Small ant-like figures of people moved around and within it, strange to see after so long with just the four of them in the wilderness.
Shirley smiled, noticing Kanzas' badly-hidden start of surprise. The crunch of his footsteps in the powdery snow stopped momentarily. "Humans made that?" he asked, the sound of his raspy voice startling in its own right after he'd been quiet for so long.
Nodding, she said proudly, "Just wait until you see Vellweb."
He started walking again, immediately catching up with the others as they made their way carefully down the slippery slope on the other side. "Winglies let Humans make that?" he pressed, taking in the fort's odd design.
Belzac answered him, having over the last two days put aside his anger for the sake of the others. "Gloriano has had a strange relationship with the Winglies," the large man explained, moving ahead of Shirley so she could step in his deep footprints to help her down the steep incline. "Of course, they've been raiding villages for slaves for a long time, but only when Melbu Frahma came into power did they start declaring us," his voice dropped into a sneer, "unfit to exist."
"In the past," Shirley went on, "they were still gaining power over everyone, too. But you're right, if we tried to build Magrad today, or Vellweb too, they would try to stop us." And Lord Diaz is really risking things with his towers and his battery, she thought to herself, thinking of the construction going on in the city. They're watching us, but thankfully they don't realize just what is happening yet. "It's strong, though, and we can hold it for quite some time."
They were preparing for a war - Kanzas could feel that certainty straight through. It was almost as certain that Shirley's mysterious power was also for war. Gloriano was preparing to fight the Winglies, and she wanted him to help…no, she'd bought him so he would help. "There is no way I'm joining some useless war," the man said aloud.
"What was that?" Shirley asked, too far ahead to hear.
He shook his head and caught up again, his cold hands jammed into his armpits for warmth, as he'd left the mittens he'd been wearing behind in the mountain outpost. The large bruise Belzac's punch had left on his jaw was feeling tender as well, all combining to make him irritable. "Look, how long are we going to be here?"
"Just overnight," the short woman replied as they joined the icy trail that led to the front gates. "Vellweb is two more days to the north. We need to pick up some more supplies, and we should take the time to rest." And I can't wait to finally have a bath again! Traveling through the mountains in winter meant only undressing far enough to wash her face and hands, and she wasn't looking forward to smelling herself when she finally had a chance to take off her clothes.
The fort seemed almost tiered from this angle, as if there was another level of it lower down the hill, carved into its side. There were guards at the huge stone gates, cracked open far enough to let people and carts of goods through, and they bowed to Shirley and Belzac as they passed. "Lady Shirley, Sir Belzac," one of them said, holding his hand out to halt them. "It's good to see you back safely! Rose wants to meet with you soon, if you can spare the time."
"Oh, does she?" Belzac said, raising a thin eyebrow. "Thank you." As they continued into the fortress, he looked down at Shirley, saying, "I wonder if the news of the attacks has reached here yet."
"We can't have been the only ones to see the tower," she answered in a soft voice. Suddenly, a hand tapped her on the shoulder, and she whirled around. "Kanzas?"
He regarded her expressionlessly for a moment before raising his hand in a kind of wave. "I'm going to have a look around," he said shortly before turning to walk off.
Taken aback, she cupped her hands around her mouth and called after him, "We'll be at the inn nearest the gate!" He made no acknowledgment, disappearing around the corner of the square into a side street, and she sighed and reached up to hold her Dragoon Spirit for comfort. "Let's go meet with Rose, Belzac. I…have a feeling."
"A feeling?" he asked quizzically, glad to see the other man go. He shifted Damia down from his shoulder, cradling the sleeping child in both arms as she began to show signs of waking up again. "But we already know Rose is a candidate. You even confirmed it."
"I'll know more later," she responded with a wan smile, gazing around at the dark stone buildings nestled inside the surrounding walls. The noise of many people roared around them. The sky above the spiked 'dome' was clear and blue, the air less fresh-smelling than outside but still soothing. She'd spent a lot of time in Fort Magrad when she'd first come to Gloriano, and although most of the people here were soldiers or fighters, it was a second home to her.
Damia was whimpering softly in her sleep now, flailing around a little, and as gently as possible Belzac woke her up. When her ruby eyes flew open, she tensed in fear, twisting to cling onto the man's neck. "Where are we?" she squeaked, looking overwhelmed at waking up to this after having fallen asleep on the empty snow-covered plains.
As Belzac explained, Shirley led them toward a long, low building set near the center of the fort's upper level. Rose would be found here in the practice hall, training soldiers; she too had once been a slave, freed most unexpectedly, but she had learned the sword long before she'd come here and was now teaching others to fight.
"And where's Kanzas?" Damia asked hurriedly as she looked around.
"Not here," the half-Giganto replied shortly.
She nodded, fiddling with the fingers of her gloves. "Can you let me down now?"
"Okay," Belzac agreed, setting her down. She still kept close, however, following the two inside the practice building and watching everything curiously.
The object of their search was found in an upper corner of the large mat-covered floor, holding a saber lightly in one hand and facing a teenager with the same. The woman shook her head, a tail of black hair flying over her shoulder with the movement. She was wearing dark leggings and a long indigo-colored tunic, a winding belt holding it close around her waist like a short dress. "Not even close. Do it again," she told her student seriously.
The young man lunged, driving his blade toward the woman's stomach. It glanced lightly against her side as she twisted, swinging her own sword to the side to counter. The point of the saber flicked upward, nicking the boy's cheek, and he jumped back in alarm, scrambling to stay upright.
"Always be careful to watch for a counterattack!" she lectured, bringing her sword up again. "Now-"
"Rose," Shirley called, and the woman turned to look at them, a small smile gracing her lips.
Gesturing for the teenager to take a rest, she walked up to them with light steps. "Shirley, Belzac, I see you're back from the slave markets," she greeted, nodding to them. "Is this the newest…?"
Nodding, Shirley placed her hand on Damia's back, making her move forward a bit. "This is Damia," she introduced. She curtseyed almost automatically, and the slender woman returned the motion with a slightly exaggerated bow, quickly masking an odd look at the sight of the girl's coloring. "Damia, this is Rose, our sword expert."
Chuckling, she replied, "Oh, I'm hardly an expert, but I know enough to start training the soldiers. Zieg is the expert on swordsmanship - if you can ever track him down, that is."
"Pleased to meet you," Damia mumbled, looking at her with a little amazement. New people tended to make her nervous, especially someone as controlled as this, but at least no one was muttering under their breaths yet about her heritage.
"The same to you." Rose looked to Belzac then, smiling. "So, you saved a child," she said, "but did you also find what you went looking for?"
Stammering a little, the large man began, "Well, we - that is-"
"Yes," Shirley said emphatically, giving him a questioning look. "We found a fighter, too. He's off looking around." Shaking her head, unable to figure out why her friend was being so hesitant about acknowledging Kanzas, she looked back to Rose, feeling the other woman's dark blue eyes on her. "Anyway, I'm glad you left a message with the gate guards, because I have something I want to talk to you about as well."
"Oh, really?" Rose nodded thoughtfully, rolling the end of her long ponytail between her fingers. "Then you have heard about Flanvel Tower invading?"
"That thing," Damia said suddenly, shuddering and hiding her face in her hands. "I can't forget seeing that thing…"
Concerned, Belzac gently stroked the top of her head. "We saw it burning an outpost near Kashua Pass. Were there any others?"
"Villages here and there," she answered, suddenly sheathing her sword and crossing her arms lightly under her chest. "But it hasn't come any nearer than just over the border, it seems."
"Lord Diaz must know by now," Shirley stated, worried, and Rose gave her a nod. "What is Faust waiting for?"
Shrugging, the dark-haired woman answered, "Who knows? But, if I were you, I'd head back to Vellweb soon, Shirley. Lord Diaz is going to need all three of you with him if Flanvel advances any further."
"About that," she began, searching the faces of both her friends and giving Damia a kind look. The girl didn't really know what they were talking about, but was listening intently anyway. "I think…I'd like you to come along with us, Rose. There may be three of us now, but there are four more waiting, and I believe the time to awaken these four is close at hand."
Oh, Shirley, I don't know, Belzac thought in dismay, hanging his head a bit. He had earth affinity due to his Giganto blood, and Shirley had named him candidate for the Golden Dragon's waiting spirit. He wasn't at all sure, though, that he had the actual right to possess it. It had always somehow felt like he had been named because he was Shirley's friend, that she hoped so much it was true she was trying to make it true.
Rose too looked a bit subdued; she was the candidate for the Dark Dragoon Spirit, having been discovered by one of the current Dragoons, Zieg. However, in the years that the secret of the spirits had been known, several potentials had died trying to obtain their power. She finally said, "It'll be a race against time, then. There's Belzac and me, but what about the other two?"
"That friend of Syuveil's, Shynn, is the candidate for water," Belzac reminded her, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard by any of the practicing soldiers. "But there is none for the other." He waited for Shirley to disagree, knowing that she would.
"I'll be declaring Kanzas for thunder," she announced, raising her eyebrow at the tall man, "once we get to Vellweb. So we do have everyone, now."
Rose bit her lip slightly, tapping her foot in thought. "That's the fighter you bought? You're sure, after just over a month's time?"
Shirley nodded, though vague misgivings were making themselves known to her. Belzac voiced one of these, his pale blue-gray eyes oddly stern. "You bought him from the criminal blocks," he reminded her, making her wince slightly. "Would he make a good - knight?"
"We've never freed criminals before," Rose said, feathery brows furrowing, "though you'd think they would have as much of a grudge against Winglies as any other slave. Maybe more."
Damia's voice broke in, very softly; she was talking more to herself than them, her back turned, but it was still audible as she remarked, "He does hate Winglies. He hates them a lot."
"Damia?" Belzac asked curiously, and she spun around, blushing, before beckoning toward the giant man. He followed her a short distance away before crouching down in front of her, taking in her distracted appearance, her eyes baggy from lack of sleep. "Sorry we've been ignoring you. Is something wrong?"
She nodded hesitantly, looking around him briefly to see Shirley resume talking with Rose. "Kanzas killed Winglies," she professed, leaning forward to whisper closely in his ear. "That time, in the forest."
He blinked, wondering what she meant by that exactly, though he could clearly remember that horrible morning. "We all did. We had to, Damia."
"Not that way, not so - so cruel. The soldier's eye and his neck, and he touched the blood - I think he really hates them, and-" Swallowing heavily, the girl went on, "I look a lot like a Wingly, and I'm scared that he'll want to kill me, too."
Shocked, Belzac reached for her small hand, enfolding it completely in his. "We won't let that happen," he assured her strongly.
"Do you think he really would?" she asked, wide-eyed.
The man paused, troubled, but he knew what he had to say, no matter what he actually believed. "Of course not. We all shouldn't have to kill anyone, but the Winglies won't leave us in peace."
She scuffed her boot against the practice mat beneath her, sighing, and her gaze grew hard, almost resentful. "You were talking about stones like Shirley's, one for each element," she declared, and shock once more bloomed across Belzac's broad face at her sense of perception. "I don't think he should get one!"
"That's not for us to decide," he told her, inwardly agreeing. However, it wouldn't be right to kindle hatred within the child, no matter if it was deserved or not, and so he kept that to himself as well. "What would you like done about this, Damia?"
"I don't know," she whispered, clearly wanting him to solve the problem for her. "But, Belzac, please, don't tell Shirley!"
It was an odd request, forcing him into silence for a while, and he finally came up with, "Can I ask you why not?"
She squatted down, crouching in a miserable ball with her arms wrapped around her knees. "She likes him," Damia finally mumbled. "She'd be mad at me if she heard me talking bad about him. She might not like me anymore, like Anna, my friend in the big house. She used to be my friend but she wouldn't talk to me after I said something about Reg…"
He didn't hear the rest of her rambling explanation; it felt as though she'd taken his heart and squeezed it, the resentful pain rising up into his throat like bile. Belzac knew he was jealous of Shirley's affections, had known it for years. Because of that, he'd thought he was just imagining that there was something developing between Kanzas and Shirley, but to hear it from the mouth of a child who hadn't known any of them very long just confirmed his suspicion.
"…so I've been having bad dreams about it, ever since the forest and the fire and that Wingly," Damia finished, breaking him out of his thoughts.
He shook his head to clear it, not happy to hear that this was the reason for her nightmares. Even though she'd just asked him not to tell Shirley, the truth was that the woman would be a much better choice to intercede with Kanzas than him - at least it wouldn't end up in violence, would it? "Damia, I understand what you're worrying about, but," he tried to explain, "I still think Shirley would be able to help make your nightmares stop."
"But-" she half-whined.
"She's not going to stop speaking to you," he said softly. "I don't know what she's thinking sometimes, but I know she wouldn't let anything - anyone - harm you. Do you really mind if I ask her to help? She'd…" He swallowed his distaste for her sake. "She'd talk to Kanzas for you, all right?"
"I guess, Belzac." She smiled wanly, standing straight again, and the man did the same, nodding reluctantly. "Thanks." Turning away for a moment, the teal-haired girl stared upward, looking at the rafters. "I didn't know my dad," she told him unexpectedly, the words barely audible, "and my mom died when I was six. And now I'm so far away from home, and I miss the ocean. My skin feels itchy and dry, and I'm so tired. What's going to happen to me when we get to Vellweb? What happens to kids you bought like me?"
"There's a home for children," he said. "Sometimes families adopt them. But," Belzac began, seeing her mouth open in protest, "I teach at the school, Damia, so don't you worry, you'll still be seeing us."
She stepped forward, clinging tightly to his arm. "Belzac," she pleaded, "I want you to adopt me. You can be my dad. I don't want to go with any strangers! I don't want to be alone again!"
He ruffled her hair gently. "I wish I could," Belzac answered as happy images of he, Shirley and Damia as a real family flittered through his mind. However, the reality of the oncoming war intruded. The Golden Dragon was still waiting, perhaps to destroy him for daring to claim a spirit that wasn't his, and if it did accept him, he couldn't give her the attention she needed. Still, he felt closer to Damia than any of the other children they'd freed; perhaps it was their shared bond of being half-Human.
"Maybe after a while?" she asked hopefully.
Smiling sadly, he glanced over his shoulder, noting that Shirley and Rose were now waiting patiently for them to finish. It was time to get moving again. "Maybe. We'll see," he replied, looking back down. "We'll see."
The small group stood near the gates as dawn bloomed across the horizon, slowly brightening the sky between the arching spikes above. With yawns occasionally catching from one to another, they waited, their laden packs sitting at their feet.
"Can't we just go?" Damia finally asked, shifting her weight restlessly. She was feeling more energetic than she had been lately, having slept well the night before. Hot baths and clean clothes all around had done wonders for everyone's spirits. "Maybe he's not coming back."
"Of course he is. Just have patience," Shirley returned, looking around the still-quiet square in vain. As much as she wanted to tell herself that Kanzas wouldn't just leave them now, she knew that she couldn't be sure of that. He had not joined them at the inn the night before, and she was beginning to worry. There weren't that many places to stay in Magrad, and she'd sent around to all of them, finding nothing.
Damia gave Belzac a 'told-you-so' look, spinning in aimless circles. Rose stood away from the wall she was leaning against, raising her hand. "Shirley," she said seriously, "if this man doesn't know to meet us here now, then we're only wasting time waiting."
"Yes, but," she protested, wrinkling her nose, "I left messages, and anyway, we can't just - just leave."
"He knows we're headed to Vellweb. He can catch up on the way," Belzac pointed out. If he was going to leave them whenever he felt like it, he couldn't expect them to wait around for him to drift on back.
She nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but, the directions-"
"It's not hard to follow a road; you know the way to Vellweb is well-marked because of the snow." Rose gave the older woman a small smile, shouldering her pack. "And Vellweb itself is pretty hard to miss as well."
Sighing, Shirley leaned down to grab her own bag, the Dragoon Spirit swinging down on its necklace, and as she straightened she grabbed hold of the small silvery-white orb, frowning. I wonder… She was aware of the others behind her moving toward the gate, but she remained in place, looking at Magrad's inner weave of streets. You're here somewhere, aren't you?
There was a flicker of movement in the early-morning shadows, and suddenly the red-haired woman's face brightened. She raised her hand, waving it above her head, and shouted, "Hello? Kanzas! We're over here!"
The noise echoed in the quiet square, and she fell silent again, watching with satisfaction as a figure peeled away from the darkness of a narrow alley and walked casually toward them. The wiry man had acquired both gloves and a cloak somehow; the dark wrap of fur-lined wool swirled around his knees as he approached, and he wore an almost puzzled expression. The new smile on Shirley's face, however, was making Belzac look vaguely ill, and Rose thoughtful in turn.
"That's odd," Kanzas murmured, crossing his arms as he came to a stop in front of the group. "I wasn't expecting you to be out here so early." In fact, he hadn't even meant to walk toward the square, but his feet had taken him through the alley anyway. It sounded strange enough that he didn't feel like mentioning it, however.
"We wanted to get a head start." Shirley tucked the small jewel back under her collar, and he gave it a suspicious look, his gaze darkening at the thought that he'd been manipulated by the stone's power. She didn't seem to notice, however, pulling the edges of her own white cloak around her. "I did say we'd be at the inn last night, you know."
"Yeah, you did. You didn't say to be there at any particular time." He smiled shortly, leaving her unsure if he was teasing or not.
"Oh, that's nice," Shirley huffed. Well, whatever he'd done, at least he'd apparently stayed somewhere warm. He seemed to have washed up like the rest of them, for his beard was trimmed again, although he hadn't changed his clothes. The otherwise colorless wool of his shirt was still clearly stained with old blood. "Are you ready to leave, then? We're starting off now."
He shrugged. "Sure, whatever." Kanzas looked toward the gate, blinking once. "Who's she?"
"Who? Oh! Let me introduce you!" Spinning around, she hurried back toward the rest of the small group waiting for them, the man following at a slower pace. Reaching her friend's side, she said, "Rose, this is Kanzas, who I was telling you about. And this is Rose; she trains soldiers here for us."
"Pleased to meet you," she said politely, inclining her head.
"You don't much look like a rose," Kanzas commented idly as if he hadn't heard, eyeing the young woman speculatively.
A bit startled at his lack of manners, she gave him a stare, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, you don't much look like an idiot, but you never can tell from appearances."
Belzac choked back his laughter at that, knowing it wouldn't help things. He gave Rose an approving smile, however, before glancing to find Damia standing well away from them, waiting by the gate. His smile faded, and he reminded himself to talk to Shirley about the girl's matter as soon as he could.
"Mm," Kanzas answered in a pleased voice, not reacting to the giant man's amusement but remembering it for later, "are you willing to back that up, then?"
"If I need to," she retorted coldly, her dark hair fanning out behind her at the toss of her head.
His fingers moved toward the claw sheath on his belt, Rose's hand flying to the hilt of her saber, but Shirley's own hand whipped out and closed tightly around his wrist. Though her grip alone couldn't have kept him from his weapon, he hesitated anyway.
"Please," she said, her eyebrows knitting with such a look of sadness and disappointment that Kanzas felt the urge to step back, to look away. "What's the need for this? We still have two days of traveling left…"
"I don't need a reason for anything," he said defiantly, meeting Rose's hard glare before smirking at her. She turned away indifferently, heading toward the gate, and Belzac fell into step next to her with one final glance in Shirley's direction. He too moved to step forward, but the small woman remained firm, holding onto his wrist. "What now?"
About to say something, Shirley shook her head and sighed instead, peering at his face. "That's an awful bruise," she murmured, reaching up to touch it gently. After three days now it had turned a sickly yellow color, edged in black. His beard felt rough beneath her fingertips.
Kanzas flinched away from the contact, scowling. "Ow," he said plainly. "Tell your friend not to hit so hard next time, then."
She winced at that, finally letting go of him. "He overreacts. So do you. And there's not going to be a next time."
"Do not be so sure about that," he taunted lightly, waving his finger at her. "Do not be so sure."
"I don't know why I put up with you," she sighed in exasperation, turning to follow the others, who had long since passed through the gates.
Kanzas started walking next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders. She shrugged it off immediately, and he asked blatantly, "So, why do you?"
Shirley's face turned red, and she fidgeted nervously, struggling to find a response that wouldn't…well, start something. She still couldn't explain to him about the Dragoon Spirit, and any other truthful answers would upset the little group's delicate balance. "I consider you a friend," she finally blurted out. "It sounds silly, because we didn't meet all that long ago, but that's the truth of it."
"Is that all?" he said softly, his fingers brushing the back of her neck before falling away. "A friend?"
"I - yes!" the redhead cried out, jumping forward a bit. She looked up the road to see the other three waiting on a clump of snow-covered boulders and hastened her pace a little. Her voice grew a bit tetchy, and she put her hands on her hips. "You know what one is, I hope?"
Kanzas shrugged, looking amused. "Well, that's a shame."
She glanced at him warily. "Why?" What game are you playing with me now?
"Maybe, when we get to your city, I'll tell you." He chuckled, continuing to walk as they reached Belzac, Damia and Rose at the top of the hill.
Shirley rolled her eyes at the childish parting shot, turning to them with a helpless look. "Well, is everything all right?" she asked brightly.
"Yes, I think so," Belzac said, standing again. Reproachfully, he added, "He just went off again, you know, after all that."
"I know. It's fine." She gestured weakly before reaching out to take Damia's hand and pull her upright. There were unasked questions floating between them, but she pushed them firmly away, determined to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Shall we? The sun's up already."
They moved northward in silence for a while; in this chilly climate, even with the sun warming them high above, the snow remained piled across the flat plains for the majority of the year. It reflected the light, making it hard to see, and they trudged single-mindedly for several hours before stopping to have something to eat.
As the adults began passing out portions of bread, hard cheese and cold sausage - Kanzas joining them for once - Shirley noticed that the half-mermaid was keeping away from the rest of them, huddling dejectedly on top of a fallen log. Belzac had told her on the way the reason why Damia had been having nightmares, and everything had suddenly become clear. She'd agreed to talk to Kanzas about it, but how to go about that was the real question. Now was a good time to do it, though, before he went on ahead again.
Taking a bite of biscuit, she rose from her seat in a clear spot under a pine tree, crunching her way through the drifts toward Kanzas. Silently, Shirley offered him a piece of cheese, which he took with similar quietness. Swallowing hard, she murmured, "Could you do me a favor?"
"Oh, really?" he exclaimed in mock-surprise. "This is sudden."
"Come on." Frowning, she continued, "Damia's afraid of you now, since we had to fight in the outpost."
He looked unsurprised, finishing his lunch calmly. "Is that why she's been lagging around? It's not my fault she got scared."
Shirley gave him a stern look, the best she could muster. "She thinks it is, because she looks a bit like a Wingly. Tell her that you won't hurt her. It's really bothering her. Could you just talk to her, Kanzas?"
"To ease her mind, or to ease yours? We'll be there tomorrow, and then she'll go off wherever she's going and never see me again. She'll get over it."
She didn't want to think about that, about suddenly losing the feeling of…of family she'd felt since leaving Mekadris. "Well, then, do it for my sake," Shirley said persuasively, taking his bare hand and squeezing it. It was funny how his nails always looked slightly reddish, as if old stains had been ground in somehow.
Kanzas stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown a third eye before tightening his own grip, rigid enough to make her fingers turn purple. "For you, hm? You won't even answer my question."
Aware of the subtle power struggle, she tried to ignore the pressure. "Please, just talk to her. You'll find out what you want to know soon enough."
He blew out a breath of air. "Fine, but you owe me for this." He let go of her hand suddenly, turning and stalking toward the girl's hunched form, and she shook it to get the blood flowing again.
"You trust him to say the right thing?" Rose asked softly, leaning against a tree trunk behind the red-haired woman. "He might just make it worse. He doesn't seem to have patience for children."
Shrugging, Shirley felt Belzac approach as well, putting his hand on her shoulder. He didn't approve, she knew, but he couldn't protect Damia forever, either. She rested her weight against him slightly, answering, "He tolerates her more when she is being a child rather than a fighter. I think it'll be okay." They fell silent, watching to see what would happen.
Damia flinched a little as Kanzas came near, turning to look at Shirley questioningly. The woman gave a gesture for her to carry on, and warily she gazed upward again, saying nothing.
"I'm supposed to talk to you," he said in a dull voice, crossing his arms over his chest. Such a damned chore. "You're afraid of me."
Very hesitantly, and with another glance toward the others, she nodded. In explanation, Damia lifted her finger to her neck, tracing a jagged line across her throat. "He was a Wingly," she whispered. "But you…I…I didn't want that!"
"It's what fighting is." He shrugged. "Shirley and Belzac killed those soldiers, too. And you helped them do it."
Damia stared down at her feet, leaning forward and hugging her knees. "It's different," she mumbled in a low voice.
Kanzas dropped into a squat, regarding her thoughtfully closer to her level. "Maybe it is," he conceded, eyes narrowing as she jerked back at the motion. They didn't enjoy it. "Look, I'm not going to kill you, kid. I don't really feel like having an arrow through my head."
The corners of her lips quirked in a smile she tried to repress. "Or an axe?"
"That too." The man scratched at his beard near the bruise on his jaw, rising back up to his feet again. "Are you going to keep up now? You're slowing us down."
She sighed, rocking back a little and tilting her head to the side. The look she gave him was old, momentarily aging her face beyond its years. He was suddenly reminded that Damia was half-Human, maybe even less of a child than she seemed. "Are you gonna promise you won't - won't hurt any of us? Even if you get mad?"
Blinking, Kanzas retorted automatically, "What kind of question is that?"
Damia slowly stood up, looking nervous, her hammer held loosely in her hand. He glared at her impatiently, and she stared at the ground before lunging forward into a swing. Kanzas raised his arm to block the blow, the mallet slamming hard into his forearm, and Shirley gasped, taking a step forward with Rose and Belzac not far behind. I can't believe she did that! the healer thought, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.
A moment after the strike hit, Kanzas flicked his hand forward, grabbing hold of the hammer's shaft and wrenching it from Damia's sweaty hands and into a snowdrift behind him. Though he'd raised his other fist, he made no further move to retaliate, simply watching the girl as she danced backward several feet away.
Relieved, Shirley held out her hand to stop Belzac, shaking her head at him. "They just need to work this out for themselves," she told him under her breath. He growled softly but acquiesced, hoping she was right. Rose also gave the redhead a skeptical look for her trusting.
"Are you gonna kill me now?" Damia goaded in a rush, her body full of scared adrenaline.
"No," Kanzas answered, rolling his eyes and flexing his aching arm, "but I hope you realize how really stupid that was. What if I'd…got mad?"
A small smirk rising on her face, flushed now with satisfaction, she raised her hands, pantomiming a bowshot. "They'd stop you," she said confidently.
His chuckle began low in his throat, rising into a bark of laughter. He shook his head in vague amusement before stepping closer; Damia once again flinched but then held her ground, trying to keep hold of her courage. Kanzas leaned down to tell her softly, "Gamble your own life if you want, kid, but be careful about the others'. Maybe…if I'd got mad, you know…I'd have killed all of you."
The teal-haired girl was momentarily taken aback, looking shamefaced, but then shook her head emphatically. "Not Shirley," she whispered impishly. "You like her."
Kanzas pulled back as if her words had actually stung him, his brows knitting sharply. "What?" he spat, almost bewildered.
"I can tell!" Damia laughed, the nasty giggle of a child who has just figured something out. She instantly looked a lot more confident than before. "If you hurt us," she told him smugly, "she won't like you back."
Not sure how to react to this kind of youthful teasing, the russet-haired man turned away. "Whatever."
Giggling once more, she called out, "I'm going to tell!"
He whipped back around, glowering, and she shrieked, retreating toward the other three, who were now baffled at the sudden change. However, her screech held little fear in it, and Rose snorted when the girl hid behind her, stepping out of the way. "I'm not going to be your shield," she remarked, amused.
"If you say anything, Damia," he shouted to her, raising his fist up, "I'll-"
"What, kill me?" Leaning out from behind Belzac this time, she stuck out her tongue.
Shirley held up her hand, her quiet laugh joining the others'. "I think that's enough," she advised the twelve-year-old quietly. "Don't push it." The snow crunched under her feet as she walked forward to join Kanzas. She gave him a smile. "Thank you. You've…really eased my mind."
"Don't expect me to make a habit of it," he retorted sullenly.
Nodding in acceptance of that, she pressed, "I do mean it. With the Winglies, and traveling and all, she doesn't need to fear her…her friends. She's too young for all of this…"
He snorted, waving his hand dismissively at her before turning and walking off on his own again, her disappointed sigh reaching his ears as he left. What does that have to do with anything? Kanzas answered her silently, his gaze hard and unmoving, looking straight ahead. You want to start a war with the Winglies, Shirley, and not even a child is going to escape something like that.
"I've never seen so many people in my whole life! And look - there's some Minintos over there! Aren't they tiny? I've only seen them before once ever. Mm, what's that smell? It smells like bread! Fresh bread! Can we get some, Belzac? My mouth is watering!"
"I don't see how it could be," the man answered lightly, laughing at Damia's excitement. "It's been open to the breeze since we got here." She didn't pay much attention to the joke, however, gazing around in awe, and he kept an eye on her as she wandered down the street a short distance ahead. The busy noises of Humanity washed around the small group; voices, sights and smells became a vague roar, a rush of scent or color.
Where Magrad looked as though it had been built into the side of a hill, Vellweb appeared to have been carved by godly hands from a cliffside, shaped out of brownish rock as if sculpted from a single slab. Enormous walls several feet thick ringed the city; its stone buildings, built close and sturdy, rested inside them. Rising far above even the tallest dwellings below were seven towers. Three of these were completed, the other four broken off at their summits like snapped bones piercing through the thin layer of snow that covered everything.
Damia stopped her rambling, forced to lean backward to see to the top. "Seven towers," she said thoughtfully, whirling around to look at the others, who were moving more slowly, taking it all in. "For the seven elements?"
"That's right," Shirley answered absently, her gaze and thoughts elsewhere. She smiled gently, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt a presence surrounding her mind, the soft warmth she'd come to know as the consciousness of her vassal Dragon, Eremi, welcoming her home. It had been over a month since she'd last felt that presence, and she'd missed it greatly. /I will see you soon./ Briefly closing her eyes, she shook her head to wake herself before moving to catch up.
Kanzas, despite himself, was completely amazed by Vellweb, or more specifically, the fact that the Winglies allowed it to even exist. Apart from those Minintos, which he didn't count, not one platinum-shaded head, not one flashy hair color but Damia's showed itself amongst the crowds trudging their way through slushy streets. First a slave and then a bandit, he had never seen so many free Humans together in one place before.
Feeling a finger prodding him in the back, he whirled around to find Rose there regarding him coolly. Despite their rocky start, Kanzas had grown to appreciate - if not respect - the woman's skill with a sword after watching her obliterate a white ape that had attacked them on the way. So, merely giving her a glare in return, he snapped, "What?"
"There are knife holes in that cloak of yours," she remarked offhandedly, wiggling at him the finger she'd poked through.
He knew that wasn't why she'd stopped him. "Oh, really? The former owner didn't notice."
"I bet not," she answered in an emotionless tone. "Don't let Shirley see."
Kanzas shrugged, scanning the crowd to avoid meeting her face. Why was it everyone seemed to think they knew what was going on between him and her? "She's aware of what I am." He said it defiantly, proudly.
"Is she really? That's debatable." Rose folded her arms. "Anyhow, you don't look very impressed with our capital," she went on, changing the subject abruptly.
"This place? It's like you're daring the Winglies. I'd be afraid to live here," Kanzas said, running his fingers through his mess of russet hair. "You're standing on a mountaintop in a thunderstorm." He raised his arm skyward, craning his head to see the towers above. "Just like this."
As she nodded, Rose's lips curved gently into a smile. "That's exactly it. But you, afraid?"
The wiry man snorted in amusement, glancing back over his shoulder at her. "I'm not scared of thunder."
"Then I'm satisfied."
She said it as if he'd just passed some kind of test, and he raised an eyebrow. Shirley and her magic stone were leading him somewhere, and he didn't like the thought of where it was taking him. But, if he truly was free now…he certainly didn't have to go.
"Hello!" Shirley's voice called from up ahead, the sound almost swept away by the noise of the market crowds around them. "Are you coming or not?"
With no other words to each other, they caught up with the other three, but before they could start off again Rose said, "Actually, if you don't mind, Shirley, I was going to go take care of something. Lord Diaz doesn't need to see me yet."
"I'm sure Zieg will be happy to see you, though," Belzac told her, flashing an innocent smile. He, like Shirley, seemed greatly relaxed in these surroundings, almost off-guard, as if knowing nothing could threaten them here.
She tossed her head, pretending to be insulted. "That wasn't necessarily-"
"It was!" Shirley finished brightly, clasping her hands in front of her. "Go on, don't let us stop you."
Smirking at them, the dark-haired swordswoman gave a light wave with her gloved hand. "See you later," she called, turning and striding back toward the square.
When she'd gone out of sight, Shirley looked at her companions, nodding to Belzac before facing the others. "I'm taking you both to see Lord Diaz now. His throne and administration lies beneath the seven towers."
"You'd think it should be at the top of one," Kanzas said belligerently, noticing the way she kept glancing at him, trying to judge his reaction. She wants me to like it; she wants me to be so impressed I'd lay down my life for this city. Just like all the other freed slaves, no doubt.
"He is the foundation," Belzac answered vaguely, squeezing Damia's hand as she slipped it into his.
Kanzas rolled his eyes at that, but still waited patiently for them to precede him up a walkway leading to a stone ramp. There were a great many flights of stairs leading toward the upper wall, and sets of guards at each long landing. They stood aside, bowing to Shirley as they passed - a fact that was most interesting to the former bandit. Apparently, this power she held made her well-respected indeed, even if the reason for it was probably kept a secret even here.
The young half-mermaid clung closer to Belzac as they ascended, glancing warily at the rooftops growing increasingly distant beneath them. "It's too high," she murmured, her knuckles white as she held onto the hem of his tunic.
"Just don't look down," he advised her as the inner wall seemed to suddenly fall away, leaving the steps and pathways apparently hanging in midair with no rails at the sides. The occasional rope that was stretched along the edges seemed a poor substitute. "We're almost to the upper city now."
The flight of stairs ended at the top of a circular wall almost ten feet thick that ran alongside some of the incomplete towers. Shirley led them a short distance down this strange walk before stopping in front of a large, arched double door.
The two guards in front of this one bowed to her, each taking hold of the rings and pulling the door open before them. "Welcome home, my lady and esteemed companions," one said.
"The lord is here this morning?" she asked, more for confirmation than as a real question, knowing him as she did.
"As always," the man answered with a smile. She returned it, stepping inside, as Belzac nodded to them as well. The doors closed behind them, making a deep, final thud.
Underneath the towers and protected from falling snow, there was a long path leading over the city that lay far below. Damia closed her eyes, trembling a little, but then opened them and continued to walk forward quickly as the other three moved ahead in silence. There didn't seem to be anything to say, leaving the whistle of wind blowing over them to howl in place of their voices.
The building on the other side of the bridge opened to reveal more doorways and stairs leading downward. The entire place was larger than it had looked from the outside, and it had a hushed feeling to it. Although a few men, their arms full of papers and books, were moving about, up and down and into several other rooms, they were all speaking quietly.
"Please wait here," Shirley said, also keeping her voice down, "while I go tell Lord Diaz we're back." Gesturing at some benches set nearby, she turned to go; Kanzas opened his mouth to retort, but she moved away quickly so she wouldn't have to argue with him. Heading downstairs, she followed the twisting path and stopped at the first door there, knocking lightly before entering.
The man inside looked up from his chair by the small window, where he was poring over a book, and smiled upon seeing the woman. He had curly brown hair and a kind face behind a full beard, but his shoulders seemed hunched with worries despite his contented appearance. "Shirley, my dear," he said, standing and laying the tome on a table before clasping her hands tightly. "I am glad to see you have returned safely from Mekadris at last."
"We have, Lord Diaz," she replied happily as he released her. He sat back down again, arranging his embroidered white robe more comfortably, and she took a seat in a chair across from the first after shrugging off her traveling pack and setting it to one side.
"I also see that you came straight here," he went on, glancing at the pack. "It is important news?"
Shirley nodded, taking a breath to try to sort her thoughts. There was a lot to tell her benefactor, but she began with, "You must have heard already from others, my lord, but as we were crossing Kashua Pass, we saw Flanvel Tower. It was," she choked back the quaver in her voice, "setting fire to villages, and Wingly soldiers below were slaying the people. We were…too late to save the outpost there."
Diaz nodded slowly, leaning forward, elbows braced on the arms of his chair. "Yes, I have had reports of this, of villages destroyed all along the border. There have been rumors of our hidden power, rumors that have reached the Winglies' ears. They are growing nervous and are trying to scare us back." He shook his head, his intelligent, piercing dark eyes meeting hers. "We must begin opposing them soon, Shirley."
"It is as you say, my lord," she returned formally, bowing her head before looking back up again. "And on that subject, I do have good news. I believe one of the slaves I purchased in Mekadris could be the bearer of a Dragoon Spirit."
Diaz smiled faintly, though the deep line between his brows did not ease. "That is good news. You have brought him here with you?"
It was almost a ritual for the newly-freed slaves that came to Vellweb with them to meet the lord of the city, but she humored the idle question, nodding. "Yes, sir. But…" Shirley fidgeted slightly. "I should warn you that he…might not be, um, polite, when you meet him." Her face flushed in embarrassment, and she went on, "The Winglies had sold him as a criminal, and he's not like the other freed slaves you've met. But I'm - I'm so sure that the Dragoon Spirit called me to him."
"I trust your feelings, my dear. They have not led us wrongly yet, and have given us Zieg and Syuveil, have they not? The Grand White-Silver Dragon is working through you and your spirit, I suspect." Diaz sighed, his eyes losing focus for a moment. "Such a marvelous creature." Shaking off the memory, he stood again, and the red-haired woman did as well. "Is Belzac with you too? Please, do call everyone."
"I'll bring them to the audience chamber, my lord," she said before letting herself out of the room, almost running back up the stairs to the entrance hall of the building. Belzac and Damia were seated on one of the benches, Kanzas leaning on the wall nearby, and they all looked over at her as she approached.
Pushing the gray hood off Belzac's head and almost absently smoothing down his ruffled hair, Shirley said, "Lord Diaz will see you now. Please, come downstairs."
"It's about time," Kanzas complained, crossing his arms and falling into step next to the woman as the other two preceded them down the stairs.
Just who does he think he is? "If you're rude to Lord Diaz," Belzac announced shortly, not bothering to look back at him, "I'll-"
"You'll what?" he snapped back immediately, his raspy voice ringing through the quiet spiraling halls; the clerks and servants who passed all stopped and turned to look and, as if someone had broken a vase in a crowded room, it grew almost unnaturally quiet.
Shirley frowned, and as they stopped in front of the second door, this time to the audience chamber, she hissed, "Please!"
Sighing, Belzac moved to open the door. Allowing her face to relax, Shirley gently ushered Damia inside, the girl hesitant and nervous to meet such an important person. Kanzas stalked in as well, stopping to take in the large torchlit room and the throne set at the end of it, and most of all the Human sitting upon it, a golden crown now adorning his head.
"My lord Diaz," Shirley said in a ceremonial tone; she stopped in front of the throne and bowed low, Belzac taking his place next to her. "Your Dragoon has returned."
"Your servant has returned," Belzac echoed, doing the same. "Your will has been done."
Dragoon, Kanzas thought, his eyes narrowing in a spark of realization. What an odd word…
Diaz nodded deeply, gravity in his eyes for the small rite. "With the freedom of all shall your loyalty be rewarded," he answered, the formality falling away as the two straightened up again. His gaze turned upon Damia, and he smiled. "Step forward, child, and welcome to Vellweb. Please, speak your name."
Shyly, the half-mermaid stepped forward and, at Shirley's silent urging, took a place within a semicircular pattern carved into the stone in front of the throne. "My name is Damia," she said softly, giving him a jerky curtsey.
"Greetings, Damia. You are not…entirely Human, I understand?"
She kept her gaze down, nodding, as a bright flush spread across her pale skin. "My mother was a Loreley, a mermaid, sir."
"Ah, yes." Amusement crept into his tone. "Well, I should not be surprised; Belzac always manages to free a child when he is sent to the Slave City, and I can see why he might have chosen you."
Belzac shrugged awkwardly at that before gently drawing the girl back from the pattern she stood on. "They have the most to lose, my lord," he explained.
"Indeed," Diaz agreed, nodding in understanding. "And who is this last guest of ours?"
Kanzas felt the touch of Shirley's hand at the small of his back, prodding him forward. For a moment, he pondered not moving, but finally he stepped ahead and onto the semicircle. Starting to cross his arms again, he stopped in mid-motion and let them drop, hanging awkwardly at his sides.
Shirley waited nervously to see what he would do, and was surprised as he finally just said, "My name is Kanzas. I have a question for you." He made no move to bow, or even lower his head, staring the lord directly in the eyes, but despite this, she had to feel relieved that he hadn't been any more disrespectful.
Diaz regarded him thoughtfully. "You are very direct, Kanzas. Please, ask your question."
"I was promised that you could tell me about the magic stone Shirley wears. I've seen it heal, and I've seen it become a - a winged armor. I want to know what it is."
"Ah," the man responded. "This is the power of the Dragoon Spirit. It is the soul of the Grand White-Silver Dragon, and its strength has been given to Shirley for her to command."
He looked over at the woman automatically, Damia's wide eyes also staring suddenly. "A Dragon? Why her? How?"
Diaz too glanced toward her; flushing at the unexpected attention, Shirley inspected the floor. "Among Humans are seven incarnations of Dragons," he replied, "corresponding with one true Dragon of each element. Each one may rule a spirit. With the power given us by the Dragons, the Dragoons shall lead Humans to true freedom. This is the vision that has been given to me, and the future we shall claim. Does this answer your questions?"
"Yes," Kanzas said shortly. He stood there a moment longer, scrutinizing the lord, before suddenly turning on his heel and striding toward the door.
Shirley felt her jaw dropping, and with a gasp, she held out her hand. "Wait! Where are you-"
Ignoring her, he stopped anyway and snarled to Diaz, "You were going to offer me a place in your army, weren't you? With these - these Dragoons or whatever, you're going to rise up against the Winglies. Well, I don't want anything to do with it. It was your money that bought me, so I'll just buy myself back."
"Kanzas, no!" the young woman hissed, staring at him. Divine Tree, isn't he even going to listen?
Reacting quickly, Diaz didn't even change expression, merely nodding at the angry man. "We do not simply free slaves in name," he told him. "You are right, I did plan to invite you to fight for me, but you are free to leave if that is what you wish."
"Good. It is." He turned again, dark cloak flapping as he flung open the door and slammed it closed again, the echoes within the chamber slowly dying away.
Belzac tried not to smile, knowing how inappropriate it was. I wish we hadn't wasted our time, or the money, he thought, fighting away the smugness. Shirley was disappointed; he shouldn't feel so pleased about finally seeing the back of that man.
Suddenly, Shirley spun to run after Kanzas, hoping to catch up before he got too far. "Forgive me, Lord Diaz," she gasped out over her shoulder as she too slipped out the door, missing the way Belzac's expression melted into a look of anguish. She hadn't come this far just to have this happen.
She found him just outside the building, standing there with his back turned, and she stopped to catch her breath, her legs aching from taking all those stairs so fast. "Kanzas, listen to me…I didn't know you felt that way," she began.
"I will not die for a hopeless dream," he said evenly, looking out across the walkway, the snow-covered capital spread out in the valley far below. "I won't die for this heap of stone you call a city, or for your lord on his throne." When he spun around to face her, his eyes looked like glowing coals. "You, however, will die, Shirley - you'll die in vain, fighting against an enemy you can't possibly hope to defeat!"
Stung, she hugged her arms a little as if for warmth, the bite of the wind seeming to go right through her despite the traveling gear she still wore. "I didn't think you were the type to give up so easily," she murmured.
Kanzas was lost as to how to answer that, memories of the Magic City Aglis flashing through his mind. The dull remembered pain of years of spells crashing through his body made his hands shake slightly, and he tucked them beneath the drape of his cloak until it stopped. "When I was your age, I might've still thought there was a chance, but I've learned better since. There's too many of them! Even with Dragons, you think you can stand against their magic? It's stupid!"
Shirley shook her head slowly, closing her eyes. "You don't…really realize the power of the Dragoon Spirit," she told him, risking grabbing hold of the edge of his cloak. "And - oh, Soa, Kanzas - I think you're one too! You're the Thunder Dragon! You can't leave, not now!"
"Me?" he echoed, stunned. "How in the world do you think that?"
"My own spirit leads me," Shirley said breathlessly, encouraged by the response. "It led me to you on the auction block, just as it led me to the other Dragoons here now. Please, you must-"
The russet-haired man snorted, brushing her hand away. "I must? I must? Shirley, your lord said I was free; am I free to take this spirit for my own, then, if it really is mine? Or am I bound to serve him if I want to use it? Will you pull out the papers and say you really are my owner, and I have to do it?"
Shirley tensed involuntarily, remembering that she really did carry his ownership papers, tucked into the bottom of the pack she'd left in Diaz's antechamber. "Even if I tried," she replied warily, "I'm not your owner anyway, nor is Lord Diaz. Winglies have a law against Humans buying slaves in their own names."
"Then who?"
"Charle Frahma owns you in name, the same as me. We have her backing in this, Kanzas."
"Frahma's own sister would betray him?" he asked skeptically, intrigued despite himself.
She nodded slowly. "She does not approve of what he's done, and she has the support of the other moderate Winglies who think the same way. They will aid us as they can, the Dragons have blessed us with their support…" Her voice grew warm, almost laughing. "How can we not win?"
Kanzas fell silent, lost in thought. "Let me see that spirit thing," he demanded finally, holding out his hand.
Hesitating, Shirley reached back for her necklace's clasp, letting the small orb fall and placing it in the cup of his palm. The brief, horrible image of him suddenly pitching it into the air over the lower city flitted through her mind as a real possibility, but nothing of the sort happened. He didn't even look at it, simply holding it tight, his eyes closing briefly. She watched him, wondering, until suddenly he held his arm out again, dropping the chain and pendant back into her hands.
"I'm not saying I'll join your war," he told her unexpectedly. "But if one of those belongs to me, then I want it. Okay? I'll see what I want to use it for after that. You owe me, remember? This makes it twice over."
She felt a bit uneasy at that, for the secret of gaining the spirits had been given to Diaz especially for use against the Winglies, who also abused and enslaved Dragons along with the humanoid races. The thought of the kind of payment he might claim in return made her face burn as well, but she pushed that aside. "It's not simple," she confessed. "A Dragon does not give its life easily, even if it has agreed to sacrifice itself."
"They must die for the orb to be given?"
Shirley nodded sadly, gazing at the cityscape below as she refastened the fine chain back around her neck where it belonged. "Some candidates have died as well. In the end, the Dragon did not accept them as being a true incarnation." Standing there, she suddenly felt an arm around her shoulders, and her gaze jerked over to the man next to her.
"That won't happen to me." He looked back at her, giving her a crooked smile, and she decided he could leave his arm where it was. "You said there are others besides you who are already Dragoons?"
"Two. Want to go meet them and see what they have to say about it?" Ducking out from under his arm, Shirley reached up and grabbed hold of his hand as she moved, slipping her fingers between his.
He held it tightly, giving her an oddly knowing grin, and, blushing, she turned, tugging him gently toward the walkway before them. He went along with her easily, as if his concerns had just fallen away. "Yeah," Kanzas said softly. "Let's go do that."
Belzac was napping lightly in his room later that evening when he heard the door open and close. Instantly awake, he peered through one open eye at the small figure that was quietly slipping inside. Oh, so she finally deigns to come back, he thought sourly, sitting up and stretching. "Shirley."
Her hair almost aflame in the light of the bedside candle, Shirley came over to him. "Here you are," she began brightly. "I hope I didn't wake you. I've been looking for you."
"I wasn't sleeping," he responded curtly, the tone of his voice surprising her. "Where else did you think I'd be? Did you expect us to wait for you to come back? Lord Diaz has better things to do, you know."
Her brown eyes flying wide, she interjected, "Oh, Belzac! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to just run off and leave you there, but I…I couldn't just let Kanzas walk off like that."
Observing her friend's irritated expression and lack of response, she looked away. Hopping up to sit next to him on the edge of his huge bed, she pretended to scrutinize the place. The beds in inns and lodging-houses were always uncomfortable for him, being much too short, and though this one fit the half-Giganto's size, it filled a good portion of the small, windowless room he lived in. It was attached to the school, and so there were also confiscated broken toys left about, contrasting oddly with the stand holding the heavy bronzed chest armor that he rarely wore and the battleaxe hanging on the wall.
Finally, Belzac cleared his throat. "Well, I hope you two enjoyed yourselves."
"Enjoyed ourselves?" she responded sharply. "I had to persuade him to at least try to claim his Dragoon Spirit - let's not even mention fighting for Lord Diaz yet, because he won't. It wasn't easy! Then I took him to meet the other two before coming here. I don't know what you're implying…"
Though he usually tried to defuse arguments, right now Belzac was ready to take this one on. "I'm just thinking, Shirley," he told the woman next to him, still not looking at her, "that there's something odd about the way you act around that man. You were never like this around any of the others we brought here."
"And you certainly watched out for Damia especially, yourself. We couldn't take the ship back, so it was a hard trip, worse than usual," she defended. "It made us closer to them than we were with any of the others, Zieg and Syuveil aside."
Yes, but Damia went to the orphanage still waiting for you to come see her off, Belzac thought at her, fiddling with the stack of books lying on his end table. "I always watch out for the children, you know that. You didn't go to such great lengths for Zieg and Syuveil's spirits, either."
"Well, I didn't have to! They wanted to join Lord Diaz against the Winglies! They were - polite!" she retorted inadequately. "It's a completely different situation."
"Help me to understand this, Shirley," Belzac said slowly, lifting the worn cover of a storybook with his index finger and letting it drop again. "You've fallen for a man who tried to kill you - twice, as I remember - before you'd even exchanged names?"
"Fallen…for?" she repeated, her brows knitting as she tried to switch mental tracks. Fighting for the words, she blurted out, "Oh, Belzac, it's not like that at all!" She twined her fingers together, rubbing at her knuckles. "The Dragoon Spirit calls me to him, like when we met the others. I want him to help us fight, that's all, and if he's a Dragoon too, then we all need to get along, don't we?"
"Well, it's obvious that he doesn't think that way." Belzac sighed, and the argument suddenly cooled; neither of the two had the ability to stay angry at each other for very long.
Rising to her feet, she wandered aimlessly around the small, cluttered room, poking at the familiar things. Picking up a torn child's doll and cradling it absently in one arm, the woman murmured, "And I suppose you asked him? Really, if you have a fault, it's that you get too jealous. You always have."
"If I have a fault?" he asked lightly, making a joke out of it and as usual masking what he was really feeling. I don't have to ask. He looks at you like he's devouring you with his eyes - and no, I'm not just being overprotective again, he went on silently, glowering at the wall when she didn't answer. One mistake he'd made that would follow him around forever, it seemed…
He and Shirley had grown up on neighboring farms, the best of friends, and as he'd gotten older, he'd found himself falling in love with her. Shirley, however, was several years younger than he and had never seemed to love him back, at least romantically. There'd been an innocent kiss or two, but it was obvious in hindsight she'd thought of it as just a game, although to him it had meant much more.
Years later she'd lost her innocence to another neighbor boy who was courting her, and Belzac, in a hurt, jealous rage, had gone after him and beaten him severely, events which ended with the boy being sold to a new owner across the continent and Shirley herself sent to serve at the temple in the Life City. There had always been a part of her that never seemed to forget that, though she had long since forgiven it.
Shirley finally put the doll down, poking some of its straw stuffing back in through the tear before she sat on the bed again. "I can take care of myself, you know," she told him quietly, sliding her arm through his and leaning against his massive shoulder.
"You can," he agreed, suddenly shifting to enfold her tightly in his arms. "That doesn't mean I can't still take care of you too."
She caught her breath a bit, since Belzac usually hugged her rather gingerly, afraid he'd hurt her without trying. However, she soon just held him closer, her head on his chest, his strong heartbeat ringing in her ear. "You're so dependable," Shirley said dreamily, as if just noticing the fact. "I feel like nothing in the world can hurt me when you're around."
"Thank you," he answered, though his mind grumbled, But if I was dangerous and unpredictable, maybe you'd smile when I showed up…like the sun was coming up in your face…like you did in Magrad for him.
Her next words startled him with how close they were in responding to his thoughts. "I've not been treating you well, dear one, have I?" With a forefinger, she traced the seam of his vest, the fabric rough to the touch.
"I know you love me," he answered fondly. "I remember it all the time."
"I never forget it either - even if I might seem to."
He rubbed her back gently with his fingertips. "I know that too."
Shirley fought back the urge to cry, not sure what she was feeling. They sat in silence for a while, holding onto each other, until she finally thought her voice had returned to normal.
"I thought that this trip wouldn't be any different from the others, and now suddenly everything's changing. I wonder what it'll be like when all seven Dragoons have been found?" He didn't answer that, thinking about it himself, and she sighed deeply. "Well, it's getting late…I should go wash up and get ready for bed."
"Yeah, all right." Lightly kissing the bright red of her hair, he let her go, watching as she stood up and crossed the room. "Have a good night, Shirley," he told her helplessly, everything he'd been trying to say flying from his mind.
She gave a little wave, swinging open the door. "You too, Belzac. Thank you for understanding. I'll see you tomorrow."
When the latch clicked closed again, the man waited for a minute before suddenly lurching upright and pounding his fists down hard on top of the nearest piece of furniture, the old dresser across from the bed. The cloudy mirror on the wall above it shook as the cabinet creaked from the force of the blow. It slipped from its nail and slid down to the floor, where it shattered.
Hissing at himself in anger, he sank to his knees, gently reaching his fingers beneath the rickety piece of furniture to draw the shards out. "Great, go and lose your temper and that's what you get," he berated himself in an undertone.
Holding one large piece of glass in his hand, he looked down at the wavy reflection it still showed. His own eyes stared back at him, as cloudy as the mirror, pale and strange against his tanned skin. "Damn you, Dad," Belzac said aloud, picking out the rest of the features of the Giganto in his own face: the thin, almost nonexistent eyebrows, square jaw, and high cheekbones. There were few hints that he had other blood besides the light color of his hair. "Why couldn't you have been Human too?"
Ashamed for even thinking it, much less saying it, he bit his lip, scraping up the broken bits of the mirror into a heap. He knew Shirley didn't care about his heritage, but the thought remained all the same. I can't just sit here feeling sorry, he told himself, wrapping the shards into a rag to throw out. He knew what he had to do - he just didn't want to do it.
Getting to his feet decisively, Belzac grabbed his cloak, snuffed the candle, and left his room. The sunset was muted by the overcast sky ahead, making the long winter night seem to come on even earlier. Slowly taking the stairs around and upward, he headed for the towers where the three Dragoons had their rooms, though for once he was not going up there to speak to Shirley. Instantly recognizable to the guards, he moved freely through the upper city, lost in his unsettling thoughts.
Climbing the long flight of stairs beneath one unfinished tower, he turned to the right and went upward again toward a large wooden door. Taking a breath, Belzac squared his shoulders and knocked hard, the sound echoing loudly within the room on the other side.
It was several moments before the door swung open, the figure of a young man coming into view, gazing up from behind a pair of glasses. He had a pleasant face and a mop of brown hair, which he brushed absently out of his eyes. "Belzac!" he exclaimed. "This is a surprise. Please, come in!"
"I'm sorry to bother you, Syuveil," he apologized as he followed the Jade Dragoon inside and back down a shallow flight of steps, glad of a door he didn't have to duck through for once.
"Oh, it's no problem," he returned, the echo of a Wingly accent in his voice. Smiling, he moved a stack of papers away from a spare chair, pulling it out for his friend before taking his own seat at his desk. "Please don't mind the mess in here. I haven't had time to clean up for all the visitors lately."
Belzac, however, did not take the proffered chair, glancing around the inside of the tower room. The entirety of the large space was taken up by the scholar's studies, leaving no room for even a pallet; he actually slept on the floor below. Books, papers and experiments, both abandoned and in progress, littered much of the room and were even tacked to the wall, and the odd mingled scent of blood and preservatives tinged the cool air. "Oh, it's fine, Syuveil. Thank you, but I really just came to ask you a favor." Cracking his knuckles absently, he finally said, "I've decided to challenge the Golden Dragon, and I need a support - I'd like to ask you to go with me, if you can spare the time."
"I'd be glad to accompany you, Belzac," he said, blinking behind his spectacles, "but, truthfully, I'd always assumed Shirley would be supporting you against your Dragon."
"She, well…has another," he mumbled, hating the way that sounded. "Another to guide, that is. Kanzas needs watching." He shook his head, a scowl creeping onto his face as he dismissed the subject. "It's time for me to face up to whatever my fate is. I need to know now if I'm a Dragoon. And I…need to do it without Shirley's help."
Syuveil nodded, leaning forward over his desk, his fingers steepled. He'd met the new candidate earlier that day, and Kanzas had seemed very interested in his studies of life and death. "I understand. The Golden Dragon's cave is in the desert, the Death Frontier. It's very close to Vellweb, but it's also near enough to Mayfil that I think we should ride my vassal Dragon there. If we encounter any opposition, he'll give us an advantage."
The half-Giganto's look was full of wary interest; the three Dragons commanded by the Dragoons had always intrigued him, but at the same time they seemed like nothing but enormous mindless beasts, capable of so much destruction. What in the world was he thinking, going off to challenge one of these creatures? "It sounds good, Syuveil."
"When would you like to leave?" the man asked, twisting in his seat to look out the window on the far wall. The sunset was barely visible now past snow that was just starting to fall. "With Tsavor coming along, it would be advisable to depart under cover of darkness."
Belzac gave a sharp nod. "Yes, let's leave right away. I'll just go get my things. Thanks." He barely heard Syuveil's 'welcome', his hands curling into fists as he turned away. I'm going to do this. I'm going to be accepted by the Dragon and win its spirit. I'm going to win. I have no other choice.
He was not going to become a Dragoon merely to save Humans from the Winglies, but rather to win back the woman he loved. How selfish it was - but he knew it was true. The only thing he could do now was fight.