Wild Justice
Summary: Valter was out searching for Ephraim and instead found a lone wyvern rider. A dark, scarred past lingers around her and something plagues her. What is she trying to fulfill? Rated ValterxOCxEphraim
Seven: The Cursed Lance and An Unexpected Meeting
Summer is here and you know what that means, kiddies? Freedom! Absolute, pure, sheer freedom. From school, of course. Now since I performed superbly on my exams and achieved my goal for the second semester (just incase you're wondering what I got I received all As) I can hopefully update quicker than usual, providing the dreaded writer's block doesn't stand in my way.
Caellach Tiger Eye: Thanks again. I made up the name Slivegio because to be perfectly honest, I highly doubt even the creators of TSS had a name for Valter's mount. Thanks for the info on GameFAQS; it will help me out a lot. Enjoy this next chapter, you'll get into more of Zecilys and her family. P.S. Glen's one my favorites generals as well but Selena is another personal favorite of mine (like Valter and Caellach, as you already know).
Text:
"Speech"
Thoughts
Flashbacks/Lyrics
Disclaimer: Ich besitze TSS nicht. Translation: I don't own TSS.
"Hell's fires!" cursed Zecilys as she ran, hearing the guard's footsteps not too far behind. She ran with all her life's worth, racing like the Reaper himself was at her heels. For she knew if she was caught, there'd be hell to pay. And she wasn't planning on seeing that brown-haired hero any time soon.
Let's hope the next turn I make will offer me a means of escape.
"Don't let her out of you sight! Faster, men!"
Thanks for telling me that, fools. You guys go fast, and I'll just go faster.
The chase was on.
"Those who plot the destruction of others often fall themselves."-Phaedrus
Zecilys never ran more than ever in her entire life. Of course, there was her freedom a stake and a whole myriad of Grado men hunting her down relentlessly through out the keep. With them raising the alarm of an escaped prisoner, Fate didn't seem to be smiling too kindly on the turquoise-haired wyvern rider.
"We can't let her escape! Get men to block all possible escape routes and exits!"
Hell's fires! They're really serious about recapturing me. If only they were just a little slower….
She pushed herself harder, breaking past the maximum limit of her stamina. All her wyvern training had trained her body to be adequate and sufficient in endurance, agility, and speed. Those three were needed in combat or in any possible life-threatening or dire situations that one may come across in his or her lifetime. Like this one, for example.
Thank the gods for Xias's strict, tyrannical exercising code! All those laps, sprints, and drills are in the process of possibly saving my hide.
She swerved to one direction, taking sharp turns whenever needed in high hopes of losing her pursuers. The rapid, metallic clanks from the soldiers' running feet grew fainter and their desperate, panicked shouts faded from Zecilys's hearing. She ran a few more meters before slowing down and stopping completely. Her hearth thumped violently inside her chest and she inhaled excessive amounts of air to gather up all the oxygen she had been so previously denied during her little race of life. Now, the next thing she craved for was water. …Which she wasn't going to be able to obtain any time soon.
Taking a good look around her, the wyvern rider studied the hallway surrounding her and warily treaded pass the closed doors with delicate care. She wasn't going to take any chances in case there were still some residents unaware of her escape and were residing in their chambers behind any of these doors. The quicker she passes through this void, eerily noiseless hallway, the closer she will be towards freedom.
But in order for that to happen I have to find an exit of some sort leading out of enemy sight and range and near enough to the stables to find Eroniz and get out of this wretched place!
"Check this corridor right here! She could be anywhere!"
Zecilys eyes widen at voices of soldiers nearby. Mentally cursing, she slid behind a darkened corner of the hallway, behind a statue and held her breath. Straining her ears, she listened attentively to the soldiers' set of plans.
"You two, search the rooms, she could be hiding out in any one of them! And I want your three to patrol those two sections over there, where the others lost sight of her. She could be still lurking about in that general area. As for the remaining lot, all of you will be following me as we continue to search for the escapee. Move out, men!"
Zecilys waited for them to pass and the remaining men disappear into the rooms and close the door behind them before making her move. She bolted out her corner and lightly sprinted through the hallway as quickly and silently as she could, seeing to the fact she had a fair amount of armor on and armor tends to slow ground movement down and make certain noises depending on the movements. In which running would surely make the armor squeak a number times more than necessary. Zecilys wished she had oiled and clean her armor beforehand, before or in between getting captured by Grado forces. Much to her amazement, no soldiers came out of the rooms to inspect the blatantly obvious noisy sound bouncing back and forth against the stone walls. Then again, maybe it was just vociferous to her.
Her brief sprint was cut short when she heard more voices up ahead in her direction and ducked behind a curtain just as two soldiers clad in rusty brown armor and carrying lances appeared from where she once was standing. Flattening herself up against the open window, Zecilys held her breath and waited for the men to pass. As the men approached closer towards her hiding spot, their voices become increasingly coherent. They talked in a regular but an obnoxious tone of voice.
"Checked the armory, the prisoner wasn't there. Wonder if the boss will let us have her for a bit if we find her first." His companion chuckled dryly.
"I'll find her before you do, Jin." The man called Jin joined in his partner's laughter and playfully punched him in the shoulder.
"Keep on dreaming, Bart. The prisoner is mine once we find her. Let's check these sets of rooms out, I bet the others haven't gotten to them yet."
As the two soldiers walked away from her current location and entered into the rooms along the left, Zecilys withdrew from the current and went in the direction those men had taken. Remembering their crude words she shook her head, part amused, part disgusted. Was their body or physical needs all that the Grado soldiers think about?
Hopefully they have other interesting topics on their mind. Though given to my past experiences with some, however, does leave me wondering.
The turquoise-haired wyvern rider furtively crept through the darken hallway, hoping to get through it unseen. As she neared the end of the hallway and it broke out into the open, more ringing voices and mad dashes awaited at the end. Groaning, Zecilys looked wildly around her, praying to find an empty room where no one would think about looking for her in there.
"Checked the armory, the prisoner wasn't there…."
"That's it! The armory! It's already been searched once and I can restock while hiding in there! This is perfect!"
Inspecting her surroundings, Zecilys noticed off to a small, seclude region from the hallway was a door slightly opened, its hinges ajar off to one side. Her eyes lit up in relief when she gently pushed the door forward and the array of weaponry gradually came into her view. Wasn't her luck just simply amazing or what?
Decorating every side of the room were weapons of every material, every type. One side of the room was completely dedicated to the art of magic. Spell books and staves galore littered the area, joined by other miscellaneous items with special properties. The other three walls supported lances, javelins, and spears; swords, blades, killing edges, runeswords, and shamshirs; long bows, short bows, regular bows; axes, battle axes, hand axes, tomahawks. There were even some brave weapons! Just about every weapon or item possible was stored in this spectacular room and Zecilys was currently, at the moment, in pure bliss.
"How they managed to obtain all these glorious weapons is beyond me but it seems that I hit the bull's eye," she muttered joyfully to herself and began the restocking.
Much to her surprise, she found her pack that was taken from her-after when they tossed her into the dungeons-right by the elixirs and vulneraries. Smirking at her success, she shoved in two elixirs (she couldn't pass up the opportunity to lay her hands on these; they were extremely hard to come by in shops. Also, they were painfully expensive) into her pack before helping herself to the weapon department.
With adoring eyes she gazed approvingly at the gleaming end points of the lances to the spears, iron to silver, slim to heavy, killing to brave. Snatching up a fine-looking and sturdy steel lance, she tied it loosely but securely to her pack. Eying greedily at the killing lance, Zecilys was torn to either get a javelin like the one she had prior to the second capture or try out a killing lance. In the end, she decided to take both to be on the safe side.
"Besides, the boys and I can share them, providing I will be able to find them in time," she said quietly to herself.
As she reached to remove a killing lance and a javelin from their resting places, a brief dark glare caught the corner of her eye. Turning her head slightly to locate the caliginous, lackluster glow, Zecilys cast her golden orbs onto one truly remarkable lance she has never seen before in her life.
The elongate, wielding section of the lance was a smooth, polished metallic black and the lance tip was of pure silver with opal designs decorating the point's sides. All along the black pole of the lance were white markings addressed in ancient, long-forgotten words but they were engraved on the metal quite artistically and beautifully. Tied by a thin piece of string was a crinkled, quarter sheet of paper. Zecilys flipped the paper over and discovered writing messily scrawled in ink. With curiosity gnawing, she read the note.
Ye who disturbs the resting place of this accursed lance shall be warned of the doom that will befall ye's head. If ye's wields this lance in combat then ye will be possessed by the demonic spirit that is locked within.
Many of capricious soldiers have tried to master this damned lance and either lost their lives or their minds and die soon after. Only one man managed to survive the complete possession of the wicked spirit yet tragically ceases to be the man he previously was. His soul has been twisted by the creature. Nothing more is known about him.
Ye has been forewarned.
Do not touch this lance of evil.
There another set of writing at the bottom, only it was in red, not black, and the words were by far clearer than the first writer's.
It is with my deepest regret to any one whom so stumbles upon this cursed lance to leave where this weapon is and let it collect dust.
The story about the only man who survived against the demon's possession is true. He happened to be a very close friend of mine and was a true warrior on the battlefield. Now he is something else altogether and it pains me to write how terribly he has changed from his encounter with the spirit. If only I had never found this treacherous lance and innocently kept it with the belongings for all to touch and see I could have prevented so many lives being lost and saved a dear companion of mine.
Remember this and if you have heard of the Moonstone, then you know exactly of who I speak of.
-Regrettably yours,
General Duessel, the Obsidian
General Duessel, the Obsidian? He has a similar title to General Mooncalf…. What, did he mention the Moonstone? The Moonstone? The same Valter who has been popping up into my life for the past two days?
"Impossible," Zecilys breathed, rereading both sets of warnings again to double-check her assumption. When it was crystal clear the words 'the Moonstone' were there, she let the paper slip through her fingers and turned her back slowly on the weapon. Just imagining the thought that she was so close in wrapping her fingers around the lance to test it out and could have been taken over by a demon that was trapped inside it was purely appalling. Yet what was even more appalling, Zecilys noted while gathering up a javelin and a killing lance, was the notion that she was acquainted with the sole man able to break free from the spirit's hold and in the end result had his soul tarnished into someone he wasn't. Imagining Valter has an entirely different man than what she knew him to be was shockingly intriguing, definitely worth a thought or two. She wondered what kind of man he once was. Maybe a whole lot more decent than he was now? Less lustful? Less sadistic? Less insane? …Less complicating?
"I wonder if there's a way to reverse the damage—"
Her sentence was cut off suddenly by the vociferous noise of the armory's door slamming open. Zecilys whirled around to face a fairly young and striking blonde woman in her mid-twenties staring quizzically at her.
"Who are you and what on earth are you doing here? There are preparations being made for Renvall to empty out most of its residents. Surely you got the message."
Hell's fires! Am I found out so quickly? Hurry, hurry, think of an answer!
"Uh, yes, but I was sent here to gather up a few more supplies for the wyvern unit," Zecilys lied, making her voice sound smooth and even. The woman nodded though still remained partially unconvinced.
"Who sent you?"
Zecilys blurted out the first name of a Grado general that came in mind. "General Moonc—stone." Whoops, almost gave away my little nickname for him. That wouldn't bode so well for me, now would it?
At Zecilys's answer the blonde woman's face soften a little and a semi-sympathetic look emerged on her unblemished features. "Oh. I see. Well, I better not keep you from performing your duty, I don't want to be the cause of your late arrival when your finish this task. I heard how impatient Valter can get."
Zecilys allowed herself to grin from the woman's words. "Here, here! Despite that, he is quite tolerable. ...Most of the time." Whoa, whoa! Where did that come from?! Did I just shed some positive light on General Mooncalf?
Her new-found "ally" strode away from the doorway and approached her in the friendly, curious manner at this new set of information. "Really?" she inquired, "I always thought anyone under his command were either miserable or bloodthirsty as he."
You forgot extremely beastly, sadistic, insanely lustful, and contains a gigantic, confusing, complicated, and complex personality!
Ignoring her spewing thoughts, Zecilys continued the chat with this interesting woman. "He does have his faults but underneath that dark guise he uses is something…else," she finished rather lamely. Lovely, now I'm defending him. Things just can't get any stranger. The woman arched an eyebrow.
"Something else? What do you mean by that?"
Zecilys shrugged her shoulders to feign ignorance of that subject. The turquoise-haired rider concluded she was either so caught up in the act of being a diligent, loyal soldier of Valter or the note about the cursed lance and Valter's connection to it was slowly affecting her view on Grado's Moonstone. Or maybe she is starting lose her sanity. Yes, that could be the reason as well.
"All I am saying is that there is more to General Valter than what he displays on the outside. There's something in the inside him that reveals the 'real' him, per say."
Regalement washed over the lady's face and it tugged the corners of her mouth. Seeing this, Zecilys sighed and attached the killing lance and javelin to her pack. Opening her mouth to retort to the woman's disbelief, she was interrupted by the female soldier when she asked Zecilys for her name. Knowing full well of the circumstances and the danger of offering her real name, Zecilys used the false name she conjured up long ago for situations like this.
"Alcyone."
A brief pang clutched her heart and faded rapidly as it came. She didn't understand why she decided to use that name as an alias, it just seemed so right at the time. Maybe the reason was she wanted to still have a thin, invisible connection with her former life, her childhood. No matter how much she suppressed all those heart-wrenching memories of her old life she desired to remember the names of the people she once knew and existed in that timeframe of her life. She especially wanted to keep and cherish a piece belonging to her dearly beloved older sister yet her wish was unfulfilled. Her name-save all those memories of them together-was all she could ever possible have as a memento, a keepsake of Alcyone Eithlinn Melkbane. I'm still missing you, big sis. Like always.
"What's yours?" she quickly asked, trying to mask the sudden silence that grew among them.
The older female hesitated, her body language debating whether or not disclose such information, especially to a solider under Valter's control. The lady knew how much spite the Moonstone secretly has harbored for her and that was no secret. Deciding to toss all caution into the wind and flirt with disaster, the blonde mage knight replied to "Alcyone's" question.
"I am Selena, the Fluorspar, one of Grado's Imperial Six as it is recently called now."
"Another general, eh?" A curt smirk barely graced Zecilys/Alcyone's lips before disappearing. Selena nodded; a grin of her own beginning to form. The Fluorspar was already taking a liking into this gal and enjoyed her company. It was inquisitive indeed how she could find such company in a soldier of Valter's. Oh, how Mother Irony was probably laughing at her now.
"You better get going and not keep your general waiting. I'd hate to be the reason of any consequences you might have to face when you return to your officer."
Zecilys forced a fallacious laughter from her lips. "Hah, don't worry about that. Just between you and me, you can kind of say I'm in Valter's good graces." Which, in a bizarre and twisted way, I am.
Winking at the flabbergasted mage knight, Zecilys waltzed out the armory before realizing the danger she still was in. When it dawned over, she swore furiously with fervor prior in coming to a decision on the current dilemma.
"I'll just have to keep my head down and try to lurk in the shadows. If a lone guard finds me, I will knock him out before he has chance to alert any soldier near by, take his helmet, and that will be enough for the time being to disguise myself." she whispered so softly only she could hear her own voice.
Needless to say, in the end, she and an inexperienced soldier collided with each other and Zecilys came out as the victor, not that is was a surprise. The youth she so easily knocked out was a bit on the timid side and was scrawny as twig. No wonder he was placed on guard duty! To top it off, he was an abomination with a lance, she couldn't count how many times he either dropped or fumbled the lance or displayed such poor posture. It was evident to see how frighten he was. Such a disgrace…. Zecilys wasn't sure whether to snort in disgust or chuckle amusingly at this, though his helmet came quite handy when avoiding the other Grado forces within the castle. All it would take was a few more turns, find the stables and she and Eroniz were out of here.
…Providing if she doesn't get lost first in this hebetudinous, aggravating maze of a keep. Why did Grado have to make their keeps to be bloody confusing?
Or it can just be my terrible sense of direction. Too bad they don't keep a map lying around here….
"You! Soldier! What are you doing?!" barked a voice behind. Zecilys whirled around to face the owner. It was the same captain from before, the one issuing out orders to his men to split up in hopes of finding her sooner.
"Yes, sir?" Zecilys replied deeply, doing her best 'masculine' voice possible.
"Have you seen any signs of the prisoner?" the captain asked. She shook her head.
"No, sir. Haven't seen nor heard the prisoner at all. Sorry, sir."
The captain cursed loudly and mentioned something about Tirado have their hinds for rugs. "Search every nook and cranny! Do not stop till she is found!" he bellowed out at her before departing from the hallway.
"Yes, sir!" she called out to him but he didn't acknowledge it. Shrugging, Zecilys ran off to the direction she was heading at and hoped she was going the right path that will lead her straight towards freedom.
Gold eyes scanned the horizon intently as wisps of long, navy blue strands swayed gently in the owner's face. The young man's eyebrows furrowed deeply, increasing the depth of the tense lines creased on his brow. Concentrating on his target, the youth did not release the flow of dark magic until the timing was ripe.
The open, careless, and death-marked horseman galloping through the scattered out trees, oblivious to the danger his life was in was more than enough to convince the druid to issue the attack.
"Foolish dolt. So eager to die." he muttered and unleashed his thundering wave of dark magic.
He watched emotionlessly as his Flux assault flawlessly overpowered the startled cavalryman and crashed into the horse and its knight. The roan stallion let loose an agonizing wail before collapsing to the ground while the amateur knight's excruciating screams echoed through out the countryside, stirring nothing out of the stoic druid.
"Assignment complete. Frelia won't be getting any messengers any time soon."
He was about to turn back and go down the path where he kept his horse tied up when air in the atmosphere shifted and a swirling vortex of magic appeared in front of him. Keeping his Flux book at bay in case it was the enemy but he doubt it was so. It has to be his teacher with another task for him to finish.
"I see even when the danger passes you are still on your toes, Irthos. I expect nothing less of you."
The magic vortex vanished and in its place stood Riev, the Blood Beryl. Irthos bowed his head out of the usual respect, knowing how much his teacher loved it when he did it. Every time he pleased his teacher he would eventually get rewarded, whether it was learning another spell or something else of his interest. Irthos, the apprentice of the Blood Beryl, was ready to serve at any given time. He was at Riev's beck and call.
"The Frelia messenger is dead. Frelia won't be getting that special information as planned." Riev smirked at this bit of news.
"Finished him off so quickly? My, my, what careless idiots the Frelians are becoming. They are worse than I imagined." He sighed yet cracked a grin at Irthos. "Then again, the Frelian fools are no match for you, my skillful apprentice."
A hint of a simper was evident on the druid's face. "That's because I was taught by the best," he answered dutifully, watching the satisfied expression being enrolled on his master's features.
"Quite right you are, Irthos. I'm here to tell you of your next assignment. You must travel to Rausten and visit an old place of yours." Irthos frowned at Riev's words, troubled greatly by where this was going.
"By that you mean I must return to my former…house?"
"Exactly, Irthos. Everyone has to return home sooner or later, even if it's just for short time. Don't worry, it won't be long, I just need you to obtain something in there for me." The druid arched a caliginous eyebrow at the bishop, conspicuous to where this was leading.
"And pray you, do tell, what am I suppose to be retrieving?"
Basking in his apprentice's discomfort, Riev didn't reveal anything until he and Irthos were only inches apart. His moist, beady eyes watched carefully at Irthos's calculating gold ones as if they were trying read the druid's mind. Believing he held the suspense up long enough the Blood Beryl explained Irthos's next assignment.
"You will be traveling back to your old home to recover your family's sacred relics," he stated officially. Irthos continued to frown.
"Teacher, I am afraid those blessed artifacts are long gone now, since the day my family ceased to exist." Riev shook his head, preparing to share the recent information he just discovered.
"The prince-with the help of the Dark Stone, of course-has received many peculiar magical vibes somewhere around the remote region of Rausten and after investigating it further, we have pinpointed it to your family's house. The relics your family hid long ago have awoken from their slumber and are emitting this mystical aura to attract attention unto themselves. However, as you know, only you are capable of touching them so that is why I'm giving you this mission. You're the sole person who can. Does that answer any of your questions?"
Irthos nodded and the frown sank instantly from view.
"Excellent. Go get your horse; I'm going to warp you and it to Rausten. It will go a lot quicker this way."
"Understood."
Irthos walked away from Riev and back towards his mare, his thoughts swirling chaotically in his head. First of all, no matter how much he likes performing tasks for this teacher, he was going to hate this one. Riev knew how much he resented returning back home with all the memories that lied there and he was forcing him to confront them head on. It was like he was testing him, to see if he could handle going back to a place where he assisted in its absolute destruction and downfall.
Then I will just have to show Master Riev that I can cope being in my former house, relics or no relics. I have no regrets.
He would be stepping on the ruins of the Melkbane House, passing by the graves of the Melkbane family and its relatives. He will be going back to the very place he himself helped to grind to dust, effacing it clean off the face of Rausten history. He will be revisiting all those ancient, buried memorials long ago, reminiscing on all the faces he either indirectly silenced or had done the heinous deed himself with his own two hands. Like what he did with Mother, Father, Xais, Alcyone...and Zecilys.
Irthos closed his eyes, distant sorrow etched on his features. If there was one person he deeply repented in killing on that ominous, gory night was Zecilys, the older sister who watched over him, protected him, and cared for him like no other sister. When he was young, he looked up to her and always asked for her guidance for Pete's sake! Together, they were close, closer than he was with Alcyone or Zecilys with Alcyone. Perhaps it was because they once had shared the same dream…to serve and defend the Melkbane House with all costs and be the best in their trade. She craved to be one of the best wyvern generals in the house while he wanted to be one of top druids. It's ironic how it all ended. In the end result he was the one who snuffed his idol, his protector. His own flesh and blood. The best older sister any younger brother could ever have. And he slaughtered her with his own hands, so caught up in his lust for power he extinguished the light in her that he was attracted to, the light that was the beacon that once banished all his childish fears away and picked him up when he fell. Now he repaid her back by making her fall, permanently.
"Zecilys," he whispered deploringly, "I never thought your death would affect me so…yet it has…. I don't think any amount of apologies can make you forgive me and the crimes I committed against our family."
As he approached his horse, a single, lone tear slipped past his defenses and slithered down his cheek. Touching it tenderly with his hand, Irthos allowed the wetness of the teardrop to absorb his agony, the bottled torment he chained inside him for three years. Yet that was all he had for Zecilys. Just one, sole tear. He couldn't cry anymore, it had been sucked out of him ever since he agreed to become Riev's apprentice. That's the way it will be forever more.
He untied the reins from the tree branch and tugged his horse along with extreme docile and care. The mare obediently trodden behind him, hardly stopping to nibble on a blade of grass within reach. He had trained her well. When Riev was again in sight, the sickening knot lurking in Irthos's gut grew, as well as the hole in his heart.
Today he, Irthos, will be coming home and visit the ghosts that live there. He hoped he would be able to find the relics before the image of Zecilys's fallen figure engulfs him completely.
Well, there you go. I wanted to get another chapter up on this story quickly so it had to be shorter than usual yet I was determined to have it reach 10 pages, which it did. I was having trouble on how Zecilys would escape Renvall and who would she meet along the way. After solving that problem and overriding that tiny writer's block, I also wanted to introduce the other surviving member of the Melkbane House, Irthos. From him you can gather he and Zecilys are siblings and can draw a couple other conclusions but I won't go into it. You also learned a little bit of another member of the family, Alcyone, the older sister of both Zecilys and Irthos. Both Irthos and Alcyone's introduction had a purpose; this was most certainly not a filler chapter.
On a side note, Irthos's name means 'secret' in dragon language from a book about dragons that I was previously reading. As for Alcyone Eithlinn Melkbane…. If someone of you haven't brushed up on your Greek and Roman mythology, Alcyone was the daughter of the king of the winds whose husband had died at sea and his corpse was later washed to shore. In Irish mythology, Eithlinn was in love with a man who her parents would have-if they found out about the relationship-killed, especially her father. Later, she has a boy who she names Lugh and he ends up killing Eithlinn's father and his grandfather in war, just has it was prophesized. (If you would like to read more about these myths and legends look up Favorite Greek Myths retold by Mary Pope Osbourne-the story about Alcyone is called "Lost At Sea". For the Irish mythology, check up The Names Upon the Harp by Marie Heany-the Eithlinn story is in "Moytura")I like using symbols in my stories, especially in names. Don't fret, I only do this when it fits so not every chapter is going to have some symbolism. Eh, just thought that should be explained. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! Adieu!
P.S. Mooncalf means 'fool'. It was a type of insult used the Elizabethan times. Zecilys has been calling Valter 'General Fool'.
