Chapter Nine: When Tomorrow Comes

Glenn placed a hand on Guile's shoulder, the latter turned his head without fully looking at the shorter man, and after a moment he removed his own hand from Serge's shoulder. The two left, forlorn etched across their shadowed faces, and allowed the young man time to him. For his part, Serge just stared at the empty cot, then to his working hand. He felt numb, stupid, as he watched his fist ball up and open again ineffectually. And then he would look at the cot again—sometimes hopeful that Kid would materialize out of thin air, like the blonde angel, at least in sleep. But the dark and moonlight were his only companions.

No one came to relieve him; no one interrupted his vigil. Eventually he walked across the last part of the room d sat down on the edge of the bed, the one that once held her. Serge sat there as if she were still there, though he didn't go so far as talk to a figment of his wellworn imagination.

The need to avenge Kid churned beneath the heavy weight of just wanting to go home. He had no idea if he would ever see his home world again, and he had a sinking feeling that this one would never be a home. Not now.

Brushing his palm lightly over the surface of the blanket, Serge idly wondered; the thoughts themselves were fragmented and semi-coherent. Flighty half-things that caught his attention but wouldn't drift by long enough to gather any true meaning.

The sound of the drapes being drawn aside tore through the wreckage of his mind. With slow, jerking movements, Serge turned head and body to finally see a blonde woman standing half-in and half-out of the shadows. Was it her? Could it be? His heart skipped a beat despite the fact that he realized it was Orlha before she even spoke.

"Oh, you poor thing," she said in a hushed, sympathetic voice.

No delay was given as she went to his side. There was a moment when she may have been about to say something, but she sat down instead. With a hand lightly on his knee, she finally did speak.

"I had to come through your bodyguards to get here, you know."

His confusion was shining through the internal pain he felt.

And so, Orlha amended, "Your friends. They're loyal to you. They wanted you to have all the time you needed to mourn." He turned away and she squeezed his knee, continuing without rushing, "But I think some fresh air and a drink will do you well."

There was a noncommittal sound from Serge as he stared at the cot, at nothing.

"Come," she urged a bit, accentuated by a gentle tug of his arm. When he didn't move, she stood and repeated the process.

Now guided outside, Serge looked blankly ahead, not acknowledging Guile or Glenn, even when the soldier tried to quietly—valiantly—defend his honor. Orlha shooed them off and beckoned them at the same time. She was back to coaxing Serge along as they walked the docks and bridges towards the main gathering area.

The makeshift stalls were gone now, and more fires burned in metal bins set upon thick leather hides. There were few people about, a mixture of both humans and demi-humans; they were coalesced together as if the bindings severed by the Acacia army had had no effect in Guldove. The darkness of the ocean banked on the docks, lingering just outside the firelight; it was a drastic opposite to the view and feel of the village's center during its daylight hours, albeit the vastness and aloneness were palpable in both extremes.

Orlha lead Serge, and Guile as well as Glenn, alongside the edge of the bar, passing its entryway to eventually deposit them at a now-vacant table. The clinic doctor stood from the table to allow them the seats, but only Serge did—even that was done by the will of dominance that Orlha administered kindly onto him.

She left to speak with a server and the doctor was assaulted with questions from both of Serge's companions, where the soldier took his lead from the magician. The doctor waved them off, looking to Serge with emphasis.

Orlha returned after the man disappeared into the tavern. She smiled a bit. "I have to run for a few. Do me a favor and make sure he doesn't jump off into the sea." This was stated to all three men as she gestured nonchalantly to their near-comatose friend.

And on queue Serge looked up with a blank expression.

Glenn began to protest, but the silver-haired man stilled him.

"Good," she said sweetly. "I'll be back shortly." As she was walking away, she turned around as she backpedalled. "Why don't you explain the box to our doctor here while I'm away?"

Glenn looked down at the box he was still holding and gave it a good, long stare before letting his gaze drift over to Guile who was watching Orlha drift into some nearby residence.

"What's in there?" the doctor inquired.

"'Tis the poisons—and what we hopefully thought were the antidotes—which Lynx used," replied Glenn.

The man who had disappeared into the bar returned to the table with a tray of drinks. After dispensing them, he nodded and left; only saying "Sirs." Their conversation continued.

"May I?" inquired the physician as he accepted the case from the soldier. He continued to speak as he looked over the contents now in his possession. "This demi-human carries a lethal weapon if he carried the poison. While I know the panacea is near priceless, so is the venom of a hydra to a killer."

"We figured that—well, Serge did—that the antidote would be within his stores of poisons. 'Tis a logical assumption," stated Guile, taking his own mug in hand.

"That it is," concurred the doctor as he examined different vials by holding them up to the firelight. "How was it you came by these?"

A look was shared between both soldier and magician before Glenn said, "A friend of mine acquired them."

The doctor slipped the recently examined vial back into its nook, closing the case with genuflection. "You know about poisons?" he asked the two men. "Well, what is taught is that there is a cure, somewhere, for it. This is the belief from those in my field that science and medicine will always prevail, given time. Time mainly is never on the side of the infected, unfortunately. So what you have is faith in science—in medicine." With a shake of his head, the doctor became morose as he murmured, "Aah, the wonders of the modern world."

A breath, and then the physician continued: "There has been a cure-all antidote all along. This panacea is created from the remains of a hydra. While the varying looks you give me show that you remember a bit of what I spoke about before, so I shouldn't need to press the importance of this upon you. Yet, it does seem that each vial here is a poison matched with its anti-virus. It would not surprise me very much if he housed some of the most sinful drugs within that box."

The doctor held up a hand as Guile was about to speak. "I must run tests first to be sure, but what I feel is that you have a bonafide treasure trove on your hands. And if I am right, most of this should have been harvested from hydras."

The scarred youth couldn't contain him any longer, his honor making up for him being the latest addition to the hodgepodge group. "Meaning we could've saved her!"

Through the whispered cry, Serge looked up to Glenn, the gap between emotions bridged.

"This was a condition from the start," hissed Guile, gripping the other man's upper arm in a fierce grip. "Let us not fret Serge more than we already do!"

Glenn shot daggers at the doctor as if he were to blame for their ineffectiveness, although the somewhat amused expression on the physician's face made the soldier feel no qualms about it. "What're ye so smug about?"

The doctor brought his eyes back from behind the pair back to the soldier's face. "No you don't understand. You've so much more than you realize. There's enough wealth in this box to take on the entire Acacia army."

Glenn snorted. "To purchase the uses of the Acacia dragoons—let alone the Devas—is more than a country's worth, let alone the year or so 'twould take to conquer what 'tis ye sought."

"You misunderstand me. I do not mean rent; I meant buy. The entirety of the world is at your beck and call, if I am correct—and that is worth praising."

The physician had constantly been looking past the other men as if trying to delay the moment. Guile saw it first, and when he brought it up, the doctor shook his head with a faint smile. "The point, my friends, is that you have much, much more here than you bargained for."

"You said that before," snapped Guile.

That was when Orlha stepped up to the makeshift table, attempting to gain Serge's attention without touching him. His companions saw what was happening and that helped pulled the young man from his stupor. "Hey, you. I've got someone here that wants to say hello."

The change in the tide proved too much as Serge swiveled his gaze around to the blonde—only to see another flaxen-haired woman with blue eyes. There was an expression that passed over his face that revealed how he would have disregarded the image if she hadn't spoken first—if she hadn't touched him on the arm.

"Hey, mate, heard y'ain't up to no good wit'out me."

It was too much for him. The dam broke as he jerked to his feet and scooped Kid up in a hug.

"Oi! Lemme down, ya goof!" Kid cried, slapping his back with her fists. When he set her down, she adjusted her white linen gown. She was muttering something to the effect of what good, decent folks would think about her in such a position.

It broke the ice for both magician and soldier, but Serge continued to stumble over an explanation to Kid, to let her know that she hadn't been abandoned. Try as she might, he wouldn't let her get an edge in word-wise, and it took Orlha nearly manhandling Serge into his seat to get him to shut up.

"She knows—or at least she will, in time," stated the older woman firmly. "But you need to relax, Serge, before you throw yourself into an epileptic shock."

There was a broad grin plastered on the physician's slim face. "Kind of what I was saying before about what you have. Sit, sit. I'll run a few tests tomorrow to identify these vials."

Orlha joined them at the makeshift table as everyone shifted to accommodate the newcomers. "We've been needing some good luck with the run of bad things going on here lately," she said with a gesture towards Kid.

"What do you mean?" inquired Glenn as he propped his sheathed sword against the wood-paneled wall of the bar.

"Well, Lynx had come through this way a couple of weeks before the incident you folks had up at the manor, and…well…" Orlha propped her elbows onto the table while she cradled her mug between her palms. "The thing is that we don't know if he stole the Dragon Tear or not, but I'm banking on the bet that he did. It's too much of a coincidence, since he came and left, and we noticed it missing."

Now Guile spoke, "Oddly shaped blue gem inside a metal casing resembling flames?"

"Huh?" Orlha blinked, and when it sunk in, she slapped her palm flat on the table. "I'll be damned! That's it!"

"Saw it up at d'manor when we slipped on in," said Serge, stealing a glance at Kid as if the topic was a soft spot with her.

There was no need as she smiled wistfully. "Thought it was duh Frozen Flame meself, at firs'. But what's he wantin' it fer anyhow?"

Orlha shook her head as the doctor chipped in, "We do not know. But when that other stranger passed through, we thought he was going to be trouble. Instead he saved Kid's life."

Both Glenn and Guile inquired about the man. The blonde man shrugged and leaned back. He pursed his lips in thought. When he started to speak, he leaned forward again, brushing his bangs behind an ear.

"Well, first off, no one knew he was here until after he was here. Used a ferry, not a motorized boat or skiff. When he came into the clinic, he inquired after Kid. Said he heard about her at the pub. It's odd, really, since we put it together that you guys were the ones who broke into the manor. It was Orlha's call on not giving you up. So Kid's condition—hell, her presence here—was kept a secret."

"And none of us said anything to him about her when he came in." Puzzled, Orlha added, "And he ordered a drink but left it full when he took off. I could've sworn he drank some, but sure as not, he didn't so much as sip it."

The doctor continued when she was done speaking. "His peculiar way continued with me. When he asked about her, I tried to stall him with my own questions. I didn't want dragoons to get a hold of her if I could help it. But he assured me that he wasn't from here, and when I questioned him about the mainland, he smiled a bit and said that he wasn't from there either. So he wasn't a part of the Acacia or Porre armies. I gave in a little and sought information on a medicinal level.

"Strange, too, because he answered me truthfully and with a knowledge that, if I didn't know any better, felt to me like it was greater than my own. Curiosity got the better of me as I went in for it. I showed him the knife and my tests, and he questioned me on my findings. At first I indulged him; later I was awed by his insights. He had—get this—said that the inconsistencies in my findings were accurate despite the anomalies. He told me that his guess was that it wasn't hydra venom, but a synthetic replica."

Guile whistled appreciatively. "That is indeed a scary thought."

Grimly, the soldier nodded. "It changes war entirely."

"Where'd he git it den?" asked Serge.

The doctor put down his mug. "He didn't say, and I'm not sure he knew. The stranger—who wouldn't give me his name—asked to visit with Kid. With what he said and told me, I didn't feel right rejecting him. He told me he had knowledge of an amulet she wore. When I retrieved it, he idly toyed with it for a while as if lost in thought. Then he set his satchel down and went through a couple of compartments. I thought he might try to take the necklace, but he didn't; instead he gave me a small package wrapped in waxed paper.

"'What's this?' I asked him. He said it was for her, Kid. I then inquired of him as to why he would help, and he replied with 'a brother's duty'. Of course I tried to find out if they were related, but all he said on the matter is 'she is not my sister.' So, then I assumed that he knew her, but he didn't answer me. I let him see you, Kid, and he spent the better part of an hour with you. I heard him talking quietly, but it was too soft for me to catch any of it. When he left, he had put the necklace around her neck. He never asked for payment."

"That is strange," muttered Guile.

No one said much of anything for a while.

Later, while it was still night, though the time was moving into the early morning hours, Serge and Kid sat alone on the edge of the dock, their feet hanging off and into the water. There was a cool breeze blowing.

"So we're goin' aftuh Lynx," Kid stated quietly.

Serge merely nodded.

"Good, 'cause I wanna git 'im back fer dis."

Turning his head some, he looked closely at her profile lined by the light of the moons. "Wha's wit' y'two anyhow?"

Sighing, she continued to stare out over the calm sea. "Far back as I 'member, I'd always been wit' sis. She ran duh orphanage I grew up in." A soft, nostalgic smile twitched, faded. "Dere were a bunch o' us. We ran like mad through d'place. Playin' wit' stuff she invented fer us, an' tryin' not t'git caught playin' wit' what we weren't 'posed tuh be messin' wit'." She sighed heavily. "Damn, was them good times."

Now Kid shook her head, quiet for a moment. Her countenance became stony as she stared across the water glittering with white and crimson lights. "Dat bastard came one day an' jus' burned d'place down." Each word was spoken carefully, as if she tried not to choke on every syllable. "We was left tuh burn alive. But they beat 'er, an' beat 'er. They made sure she couldn't help us."

She stopped again as she swallowed, closing her eyes and turning away from Serge as if to hide her pain. It was a futile attempt. She stiffly refused him when he tried to hold her, but it was a half-hearted attempt from her, because his sympathy was quiet and genuine. He held her against him, her back to his chest, and rocked her gently.

"I watched 'er die," she whispered so quietly. "I 'member dat. Den, I was jus' watchin' me only home burn. Watched it burn from far away."

Kid turned in his arms and looked up with pleading eyes. "He saved me—I dunno who. Oh, Serge, why'd he save me?"

There was no answer, and he could see she was crying and fighting the tears that were staining her cheeks. She looked so much younger and older at the same time. She loosened her arms and entwined them in his, her head crooked in between his head and chest.

"I miss 'er." The words were softly spoken.

He simply breathed into her hair.

Without changing her tone, she asked him, "Do ya miss home?"

Tensing at the words, Serge felt drawn and repelled by the question. "Aye. I do."

"Wha's it like? Like here?"

He gave her a hidden smile. "Quietuh wit'out cha."

Kid pulled back long enough to eye him, slapping him in the arm. "Dat so, eh?"

A soft laugh escaped him. "Thinkin' I'd be missin' it, back home."

"Will ya stay, if y'had duh choice?" she inquired.

Her words were soft but heavy. "Do ya want me tuh?"

Blue eyes flickered away and then she looked back to him. "I—I'm glad yer here now. I dunno how long me luck'll hold out, but I be bettin' it's bettuh wit' cha here."

Serge searched her eyes for something left unsaid, undone, and then he kissed her. She didn't fight him. The gentleness was like a secret she kept beneath the surface. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and as their first kiss broke, she initiated the second. Afterwards, she rested her forehead against his.

"Y'know," the lass whispered to him, her breath splashing against his mouth. "I feel—I dunno—good wit' cha here." A breathy laugh was followed by her stating: "An' I ain't bein' all mushy, bub."

Serge stroked Kid's cheeks with his thumbs. "Whateva happens, dey got Records o' Fate. Figger I should make summat fer yuh t'have."

She wet her lower lip with her tongue. "Memories are bes'."

"Mem'ries fade," he countered.

Kid then removed her necklace, sliding it over the top of his head, cradling the gem in her palm tenderly as she settled it around his neck. She looked at him as his fingertips slid across hers to the amulet.

"Mem'ry," he murmured with a small smile.

She nodded minutely. "Aye; memory."

The sun was cresting the peak of its summit by the time Kid and Serge entered the pub. Both magician and soldier debated fiercely over a game of cards, but it was of a jovial banter; the two had become fast friends in their short time together. Orlha was behind the bar, putting things away. As the beads rattled she looked up to the doorway.

"Hey, you two. Got some sandwiches made up on the table, if you're hungry."

Serge thanked her as Kid plopped herself down at the table and cut off the bickering men.

"Oi, watcha blokes arguin' 'bout?"

"Who is arguing?" asked Guile, shuffling the deck.

Glenn grinned. "'Tis a friendly debate on Table Etiquette."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she cooed, "Cut me in."

Serge sighed mellow dramatically as he sat down to tuck into a sandwich. Guile shuffled the deck again, this time with a flourish. Things got tense for a while. It was the kind of tension that snapped as poker faces melted into raucous catcalls. It soon became apparent that neither of the men stood a chance against kid. She was a hoyden bent on destruction and the targets within sight were their coin purses. Eventually the scarred man leaned back and eyed his friend. "Magic me some coins."

Guile pinched the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. "If I could, I would. I would do so for myself."

Kid grinned. "Fact is, won't do yuh blokes no good, seein' as y'd jus' go on makin' me richer. Ain't dat right, bub?" she asked Serge.

He shook his head and gave a half-smile. "Why'd jah think I sat dis out?"

"Alright, alright," sighed Guile as he flashed a pretty shuffle that had the cards airborne as they flew from palm to palm. In the end, he did a flick of his wrist that caused the cards to vanish. "Business 'tis."

Glenn looked pointedly at Serge. "And one wonders why I inquired of magicked coins."

Serge merely chuckled.

"A'ight, bubs, we've gotta prop'sition fer ya." Kid looked sidelong at Serge, but didn't hide it or the smile that came with it. "Me an' Serg here figger we'd smack Lynx on duh nose like duh bitch he is."

"Female dog," Guile mused as he looked at one empty hand, and then to the other one, "Cat man."

"We understand," Glenn tossed in quickly as if to stave off any ill-will that could have come from the correction.

From the look on the young woman's face, he was dead on.

"Anyways!" Kid spat. "Thought we'd give ya d'chance tuh jump on board or sit it out."

"Tricky business, with him being at Fort Dragonia with almost the entire Acacia army at his beck and call," said Guile as he rubbed a fingertip along the rim of his mug.

Kid switched her gaze to the soldier. "An' yuh?"

Glenn shrugged his shoulders. "Wont as we are to get at him, Guile has a valid point. Ye see, 'tis more than the army; there is Mount Pyre and the fabled puzzles within the fort itself. Should we make it there, the way cannot be blocked. 'Tis the only feasible way as I see it."

Serge chipped in, "A'ight, den. Le's walk through it."

"'Kay, there's d'lava," began Kid.

"Depending on how tight the defense is...dragoons will've set up bridges as a means to traverse the floes."

"Glenn has it," stated Guile. "Do we steamroll our way in? As it stands, we would last but a few moments without an army of our own."

"Git tricky or sneak in," Serge suggested.

Glenn sat back, lost with his own thoughts.

The lass leaned forward. "So'd we gots bridges; it's a start. We can use the mountainside, too, if we gotta. So, we git inter d'fort isself."

A smirk tugged at Guile's mouth. Amused, the magician spoke to the trio. "From what is known of the place, it is said that there are puzzles and traps to shun unwanted guests. There is a good bet that the path has been left open. Why isolate oneself in a part, when reinforcements can be locked out?"

The young woman grinned. "Been thinkin' 'bout dis fer a while, eh?"

Guile replied casually, "Glenn and I spent a bit of time on the subject, aye. He is enlightened with military campaigning, and I just another outlook added to the mix." With an arrogant nonchalance, he concluded, "And I do so love a challenge."

"That's it!" the scarred soldier burst out. Suddenly, he was very animated. "'Tis as Serge suggested it. Trickery is the key! If I pose as thy captors, then new shan't be questioned. In fact—"

Kid jumped in, "We'd be taken right on up!"

The blonde woman clapped him gleefully on the shoulder as he nodded his assent.

"Besides the details, it could work," Guile said. "Well done, my friends."

Plans began to unfold, each putting in advice where it could be given, though it was obvious to all that Glenn as the mastermind. He would work with Guile on rigging the shackles, and the gear would be kept with the soldier until they were clear of the troops. They aimed for a guideline that left much up to chance. The dragoon stressed that a fake capture could easily become a real one. Obviously, Kid didn't seem to care. After a couple hours, as they were wrapping up the discussion, a newcomer arrived through the beaded cords.

Glenn looked up and surprise took him. "Radius! What brings ye here?"

The two men clasped forearms. "I bring a parting gift, if ya'll still intend to meet with Lynx."

"That we do," replied the scarred dragoon.

"Well, then, may I?" Radius inquired, although he sat himself down without waiting for a response. "Now, Lynx is no fool. And to be honest, he could very well be a match for the Devas. So, what I figured was that a bit of help on your side could make all the difference. Firstly, I bring elements. I trust that each of you knows how to use them? Good. Secondly, I wish to offer advice on your course of action."

Once it was explained to him, he took Glenn off to the side. As they were speaking, Serge went outside. The air was still hot despite the shade in the late afternoon. It relaxed him nonetheless. A short while later he was joined by Orlha.

"Seems like everything is coming to a head," she said, leaning against the doorjamb, her arms folded across her midriff. "You know I'd go with you if we weren't forbidden by our shaman. Just…if you can, bring the Dragon Tear back with you?"

"Sure," replied Serge. Now he looked at her. "Dunno why y'don't come anyway. We coul' use all d'help we coul' git."

She sighed forcefully. "You must think I'm a coward for turning down your offer."

"Course not."

"Just all this talk floating in about Porre—how Lynx has already infiltrated the highest part of the Acacian army. The shaman wants all available hands here."

"I git it. Ain't gonna sweat it, hon, seein' 'ow y've done so much already."

Kid slipped out of the pub and went up to Serge. "Blokes be gittin' friendly. Too much male blood fer me tastes." She glanced at Orlha with a flicker of a smile before kissing Serge on the corner of his mouth. "Ain't stayin'. Gonna hunt down Mel. See ya tonight."

And then she was gone.

When they were alone again, Orlha stated, "Girl has some deep sides to her."

"Hmm?" Serge came out of his partial reverie.

"Just that she's as crass as they come, but there's a tender side to her. What she shows you, what she shows gives to Mel."

The young man smiled and ran his fingers through his hair absently. "Iss a good side. Both are. Jus'—I dunno…It's hard tuh 'splain."

Orlha placed a hand on his arm. "And you don't have to."

They shared a long, searching look.

"Thing is," she began with quiet hesitation, "I've been thinking about what you said, about how you're from…"

"Anoth' place?" offered Serge.

A smile and a nod came from the blonde woman. "Exactly. Well, you remember me saying I always feel half myself, half alive?" At his nod, she continued, "Well…I know I don't have any right to ask, but, if you do go home, could you find yourself in Guldove?"

"Fer yer sistuh?" asked Serge, facing her, giving her his undivided attention.

Orlha bit her lower lip and nodded.

Now it was his turn; the young man placed his hands on her shoulders. "Course I will."

She couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, she pulled a small satchel pouch off of her belt. Without looking up, she took one of his hands and placed it within his palm. Biting back emotion, she said, "Show her this; she'll understand. She'll know."

With his free hand, he tipped her chin up.

"Thank you," she said.

Their eyes made contact.

"She's lucky to have you." Orlha didn't wait for a response. Instead, she fled back inside.

For a long time, Serge stood leaning against the wall, eyes drifting about, seeing those around him as they lived and haggled, and saw those who weren't present. His mind drifted over the past and the possible future. He thought of his mother and, eventually, of Leena. The pain was a dull ache inside of him, almost as if he had somehow betrayed her by lying with Kid.

Honesty belied the truth; he didn't care.

That night as he was lying next to Kid in bed, he told her about what he promised Orlha. She never stopped trailing her fingertips lazily over his chest as he spoke. It was then he knew she agreed and accepted his choice. It was what she said after that made his justifications for leaving his past behind make sense.

"We'll do dat."