Chapter LXIV

"So, all we have to do for yer trial is… carry ye across a desert?"

Bertha nodded at Barry's words, cloak ridden over her head, her arms folded as she leaned back in the small wagon. Meanwhile, Barry held onto the small wooden ledge at the tip of the wagon, dragging it forwards and wincing as the wheels slowly creaked through the sand.

The desert trail, Hippowdon Hills, as they were called, was more grim and desolate than anything Nova had ever seen. The horizon was crusted more raggedly than the Twinleaf Wastes, scoured by the heavy beating of the winds. Even with the sun kissing the horizon, the heat was blistering, to the point where Barry's Empoleon had to keep blowing bubbles to stop Bailey the Staraptor from coiling and melting into the sands.

"So, to the mountains on the north," Nova said, surveying the horizon.

Bertha nodded again. "Assuming you don't get eaten by Hippowdon, aye."

"…bold assumption…"

Nova rolled her eyes as they began to walk, leaning in close to Barry only for a second to whisper, "Keep your guard up. They're trying to kill us."

"Aye," Barry muttered back. "But this one is an old lass. What harm could she possibly do?"

"She trained Queen Cynthia."

"Aye, but…" He froze, tilting his head. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear wh—"

Staraptor cawed, rearing up. Nova clutched Barry, cursing as the red sand exploded around them and dozens of beams burst from beneath the ground – beams that looked like tentacles, and yet, were made of… more sand?

Across from her, she could see them, the serrated skin and red eyes. But as Bailey cried out in terror, one of the sand tentacles snaked around him, cinching his throat with a vicelike grip.

"Is that the Hippowdon?" Barry was asking, his voice a roar over the guttural growls and snorts of the beasts.

"No, it's me fucking stomach," Nova snapped. "Of course it's the bloody—"

As the sand tentacle began waving Bailey in the air, Nova stopped herself, drawing her sword from her belt. She darted forwards, towards the leathery skin of the Hippowdon, lashing out with her blade. Oily blood spurted, a roar shivering the ground as Nova twisted to stab it again, ducking and rolling up into a panting crouch to avoid the sand tentacles.

Barry drew his own blade, leaping away from the wagon, hacking at the sand tentacle that had tickled at his leg. It split from his blade, another roar spilling from the beast, spraying sand all over Barry.

But Nova didn't care – not while Bailey was still in the air, blood spilling from his neck where the sand tentacle was wrapped and squeezing.

"Let him go!" Nova shouted, stabbing at the Hippowdon again.

Even Bertha was standing in the wagon, brow arched. "Back off!"

"Back off? Are you mad?"

"Are you?" the old woman shot back. "You plan on killing a Hippowdon with that? Let it have the Staraptor."

"To hell with that!"

Feinting low, Nova lashed out at the Hippowdon's snout, drawing a fresh gout of blood. More sand tentacles were rising from the ground, but she heard her companion already calling out. Soon enough, his Empoleon was shooting water at the beast and forcing it to splay backwards while Barry spat a mouthful of red sand and hacked at another pillar of sand.

And finally, as Nova moved between the forest of leathery skin and sand, feeling the breeze of the near-blows against her face and throat, the whistling hiss of the sand tentacles in the air, her sword found its mark. With a slide and roll, she buried it right in the Hippowdon's eye.

The sand uncoiled around Bailey and he took a dusty tumble while the Hippowdon sapped and snarled at Nova, the smell of wet death scratching at her nose as she dashed back and ran for her Staraptor.

And though he was bleeding, though he was cawing in pain, the bird didn't let himself crash into the ground. He shot through the air, straight towards Nova as she raised her sword, only stopping for a second beside his gladiator. The girl hauled onto his back, clinging on with thighs and nails and sheer bloody-mindedness.

Then, they swept towards the Hippowdon, dancing in and out through the whips of sand, watching but not feeling the ground tremble as they got closer and closer—

Nova rolled off Bailey, but the Hippowdon kept its eye on her as she scrambled across the dust and reached for its back. But, as it roared, Bailey's claws sank into its skin, the beast's shriek splitting the air as the talons scraped down to his other eye.

As Nova and Bailey retreated back, they saw Empoleon give another half-hearted beam of water, and that was enough.

With both eyes bleeding, the beast stopped its sand tentacles, and as the pump of water slammed into it, it flipped over and over, dragging its bulk back below into the sand, howling.

Nova dragged herself to her feet, sand churning as the Hippowdon burrowed away.

"What was that?" Barry asked.

"A Hippowdow—"

"I mean… what did ye do to it?"

Nova shrugged. "A little cut. That's all."

A moment of silence rang across the waves, filled with the song of the maddening winds. Then, they heard the laugh – Bertha's laugh, a dimpled and bone-white grin gleaming on her dusty face.

"You two are still in one piece?" she mused. "I haven't seen fighting like that since… since my granddaughter's fight against Rowan."

Nova didn't say anything. Wiping at her eyes, she flicked the dark blood from her blade and wandered over to Staraptor, checking the blood at his neck. His feathers were bloodied, his wings were caked in dust, but he seemed alright.

She approached slowly, hand outstretched. She smoothed his back with steady bags, and—

"Ow, fuck, Bailey, ye can't kiss me with yer beak—"

Bailey threw his head back with what sounded like an awful lot of snickering.

"Aye, you're fine, then."

"…for now…"

Nova didn't bother responding to the Darkrai curled in her shadow.

Because she knew he was right.

There was a lot of desert left to go.

They limped for hours, trekking until they found a thin spur of rocks to rest, looking out for sand tentacles rearing in the air. Even Bertha slunk out of her wagon to join them along the thin grass surrounding the spire, listening as Barry rattled away.

"I have Prinny, me Empoleon, and Hera, me Heracross, and I have a Rapidash named Novemba, and a Snorlax called Socks—"

"Why did you name it Socks?" Bertha asked, as Nova arched her brow.

"What's wrong with Socks?"

"Most gladiators I know usually choose something more… manly. Like… Legend. King. Destroyer."

Nova snorted. "Sounds bloody stupid to me. If ye call yer Pokémon something like King or Legend, you tell others that ye think you're some bloody great thing. That's why I told Riley to name his Lucario 'Captain Snuggles.'"

"Captain Snuggles?" Bertha snickered.

"Aye. Think of the terror. Being bested by a foe with a Lucario called Destroyer is bloody fine, but imagine the shame of having the piss smacked out of ye by a Lucario named Captain Snuggles."

Bertha nodded slowly reaching over to poke Barry's arm. "Is that why you named your Snorlax 'Socks?' So that you would be underestimated?"

Barry just shrugged.

"Nay, I just like socks."

Nova found herself smiling, but still, she hovered close to Barry, a keen eye on Bertha. She seemed nice enough – certainly kinder than Lucian and Flint and bloody Aaron, and she even called out a Pokémon of her own. It was a Golem, and she pulled out two sticks from her sack, knocking it on the Golem's back.

"It scares the Hippowdon away," the old woman told them.

"I don't think we need that," Barry pointed out. "Nova tends to scare anything away by just bloody breathing."

Nova scoffed, kicking dust at him as he rolled away and laughed. Nova rode her own cloak over her eyes, resting against the rock. Barry, too, sat in the shade for a moment, his Empoleon and her Staraptor already half-asleep. Within seconds, he felt his own self drift off. Thinking about the castle, the battles, the sounds of the desert—

Within a minute, he knew his mistake.

"Don't say a word."

Bertha's whisper in his ear, sharp as the blade he could feel against his throat. Though he couldn't see her, he could smell leather steel, could her the voice behind him was thick and cutting.

So he didn't say a thing. He just hoped that his Empoeon would awake. Or Staraptor. Or Nova. Or the damned Darkrai would do something if he just dug his fingers into the sand where he knew her shadow was beside his—

"…a please would be nice…"

Bertha, oblivious to the shadow, leaned in close to Barry's ear. "If you and your friend turn back now and leave, and forget all about fighting Queen Cynthia, I will leave you be. Do we have a deal?"

The boy inhaled slowly, listening. He couldn't hear any footprints. But he could feel the knife press harder against his throat.

"Well?"

"You told me I couldn't say a word," he whispered.

"Clever." There was a smile behind her words. "But—"

"I knew you were full of shit."

Barry smiled to hear Nova's voice, grinned as Bertha hissed.

"Drop your blade, Bertha," Nova said. "Drop your blade and let him go before I cut your hands off."

"I will cut the boy's throat."

"Then your fingers will join his head on the sand, Baroness."

Barry winced at that. He didn't want to even think about how it would feel for the blade to swish from one ear to the other.

But he felt the pressure at his neck ease, and as that happened—

Water. Colliding between his eyes, the taste of icy liquid on his tongue. He rolled aside, blinking, only dimly aware of whatever was happening – his Empoleon had use her water to shove him aside the second Bertha had lowered her knife, and there were whispering blades slicing the air feet scuffing across sand.

Meanwhile, there Nova was, staring at Bertha. The wiry woman was wrapped in cloth the colour of desert sand, and she was carrying two knives and dancing like someone who knew the steps.

The two girls circled each other, blades clutched, hesitant at first and drifting closer and closer. Then they fell, fists and elbows and knees, blocks and counters and strikes. The sigh of steel in the air. One moving swiftly, around and around, the other blocking and foiling every strike.

Beside them, Bailey was hissing in alarm, moving quick as silver as he blew a gust of wind and knocked over the Golem. Then, the Staraptor moved in, striking for the one part that wasn't covered in thick stone – the throat, beak whistling as it came. But the Golem was too quick, twisting and rolling away, its body tangled up in sand.

In that moment, Nova herself managed to lock her blade with Bertha's, and with one sharp step, Bertha twisted her knife free, and swiped Nova's sword aside.

The gladiator's blade quivered in the sand near Barry, and she rolled to her feet, red-faced. Snatching the sword from the sand, she turned back to Bertha, teeth bared in a snarl.

"You're all criminals," Nova hissed. "You're trying to kill innocent people."

Bertha simply shook her head, only slightly out of breath. "You agreed to the trials."

"No one told us the trials would involve you trying to bloody kill us while we try to sleep—"

"Nova, calm down," Barry quickly cut in.

"Barry, this skinny streak of shit had a knife to your throat—"

"Just be quiet."

"Why—"

The ground beneath them trembled. A faint tremor at first, felt at the small of their backs. Rising every second.

"Is that what I think it is?" Barry asked.

And all of them just froze.

"Oh, shit."

From beneath her, Darkrai sighed.

"…two of them. very large…"

"What do we do?" Nova asked.

"…run? die? the options are endless…"

"Running sounds grand to me. Barry—"

Barry was already on his Empoleon's back as it lied, belly-down, on the sand and began to slide through the sands. Nova vaulted onto her Staraptor's back. Glanced over at Bertha.

The old woman was looking at her Golem. Very aware she couldn't ride it in any way.

Nova sighed.

"Ride with me, Baroness."

Bertha hesitated a moment, tilting her head and fixing Nova with that blank stare.

"Look, if you want to stay here…"

Bertha sighed, stepped closer and the ground trembled. Bailey rose up, and Nova glanced behind to see a trail of churning earth approaching – as if something massive swum beneath the sand.

Right towards them.

As Bailey cawed, Nova held him in place long enough for Bertha to scramble up behind her. A bellowing roar sounded under the earth, and as Bertha put her arms around Nova's waist, she caught a whiff of spice and smoke and sand.

"Let's go!" Nova called to Bailey.

Then, with the Golem rolling through the sands and Empoleon darting beside it, Staraptor bolted. The ground behind the exploded, sand tentacles bursting from brown and cracking like hooked whips. Nova heard a gut-watering bellow, turned and glimpsed those red eyes and a gaping mouth that could swallow Bailey whole.

"Two of them, just like you said," Nova mumbled to her shadow.

The older woman pointed north. "Ride to the north. Once we're far enough, I can play the Golemsong."

"Golemsong?"

"Ride!"

And so they did. A furious fly over an ocean of blood-red sand. Glancing behind her, she saw the two runnels converging, closing swift. A tentacle broke the surface, and angry roars filled the air as it slammed back down to earth.

Dust whipped in Nova's eyes. Staraptor panted beneath her, wing beatings thudding in her chest. Nova held his feathers hard, riding harder, thanking Arceus that Bailey hated the idea of being eaten by those Hippowdon more than it hated the idea of flying endlessly through the desert.

"Look out!" Bertha called down to Barry.

Nova glanced ahead, saw another runnel approaching from the north. Bigger, moving faster, shaking the earth beneath them all.

"…it seems there are three. apologies…"

Tentacles unfurled from the ground like the petals of some murderous flower, and Nova looked into the Hippowdon's mouth – all snapping teeth and hooked bone. As Barry's Empoleon cut east to avoid it, Bailey was a moment to slow – a blink later, and a tentacle had slapped the Staraptor aside.

Nova was lucky enough to be clinging onto Bailey's feathers, an arm wrapped around his neck. But Bertha was riding closer to the hind with nothing but Nova's waist to keep her anchored. And, as Bailey cawed and twisted to the side, whipping them about like rag dolls, Bertha sailed off the Staraptor's back.

Nova cut east to follow Barry, roaring at him over the chaos.

"We lost Bertha!"

Barry tilted his head. "Maybe they'll stop to eat her?"

"We have to go back!"

"And now you decide to be nice?"

"It's not being nice, you knob, she's the freaking baroness!"

"…nova. this is foolish…"

"Aye, and?"

"…touché…"

Red earth, torn and wounded, shaking beneath them. Dust in her eyes. Heart in her throat. She felt Darkrai leave her shadow and flit across the sand to find Bertha, felt her own fear rise up in a flood – an ice-cold swell in her belly.

Nova jerked on Bailey's feathers, bringing the Staraptor to a halt. He whined, but obeyed, flapping his wings reluctantly and turning.

They saw Bertha on the ground in seconds, clutching her ribs as she ran across the churning sand.

"Barry, go! Take the Golem! I'll meet you north!" Nova roared.

Barry still looked a touch confused, whispering something to his Empoleon. Then, with a shake of his head, he charged towards the fallen woman and the approaching Hippowdon, his Empoleon slipping fast as a hurricane towards the monstrosity.

The first Hippowdon erupted behind Bertha, sand tentacles the length of ships cutting the air. The baroness rolled and swayed, her Golem rolling to her side and around her, blocking off the tentacles. But one still caught her – taring her chest as it snatched her up. And even in that awful grip, Bertha didn't make a sound, instead drawing a blade and hacking at it instead.

"Bailey, I need you to—"

She never had to finish. The Staraptor was already flying, talons sinking down, down, down, burying themselves into the snout and ripping through a nostril of the Hippowdon.

With a howl that shivered her bones, the beast dropped its tentacles, leaving Bertha on the sand, and turned towards Nova with its two cousins swimming fast behind it.

"Oh, shit."

And with Darkrai slinking back into her shadow, she and Bailey turned and rode for their lives.

Teeth gritted, glancing over her shoulder as massive shapes breached the earth, diving back below. Beyond the horrors, she saw Barry riding his Empoleon, snatching Bertha up and dragging the wounded woman over his shoulder while the Golem rolled close by. Bertha was drenched in blood, but she was still moving. Still alive.

Bailey flew north, one Hippowdon keeping pace with him, one slamming the sand just metres behind. Great roars and the hiss of their bodies pierced the sand, but still, they flew over the rocky badlands.

About forty eroded stone spires thrust up through the desert's face, a small garden of rock in the sand. Nova and Bailey wove between them, frustrated roars echoing behind them as the Hippowdon slowly moved between each one. Slick with sweat. Heart pounding. She was closing in towards the mountains. Barry and Empoleon had already reached it, the boy already digging through Bertha's bloodied cloak and searching for the sticks to clang against the Golem.

The metallic song echoed on the wind as Barry hit the Golem's body like it had insulted his mother.

But still, beneath the cacophony, she could hear the Hippowdon, the earth being torn apart by them. Her own thighs ached and her muscles groaned, and she couldn't even imagine what Bailey was feeling with his shaking wings, his quivering beak, his pleading eyes.

At least, she flew alongside Barry, wincing at the racket. She glanced down where Barry was holding Bertha's bloody body, cursing.

"Is she even breathing—"

A tentacle burst from the earth in front of them, whistling as it came. It tore through them, and Nova and Bailey dove to the side as it swept inches over her head. Bailey roared and his Empoleon shrieked, sending a beam of water pummeling at it. The second the Hippowdon went tumbling back in the sand, Nova saw her friend lean close to the baroness.

"Bertha, listen to me," Barry was roaring. "Where do we go?"

"North…" she bubbled. "The Stark Mountains…"

Then, she groaned, curling in upon herself. The sound of Barry clanging against the Golem with sticks every time he stopped for a second was enough to burn Nova's ears.

"Barry, shut that racket up!" she called out.

"It scares off the Hippowdon!"

"Scares them off…" Bertha echoed.

Nova snarled. "No, it bloody doesn't!"

She glanced over her shoulder, just in case the horrid racket did scare off the Hippowdon, but they were still close in pursuit. Even Bailey was glaring at Nova, even though she was riding on his back, occasionally spitting an accusatory whine in her direction.

"You shut up, too!"

"…he thinks you're heavy…"

"You too!"

The song of the Golem eventually did scare off the Hippowdon.

Or so Barry insisted after hours of beating the poor Golem's back. Once the Hippowdon started dropping off, one by one, probably bored and pissed off, they stopped arguing about why and stared at the baroness who was lying in a pool of blood.

Nova knelt beside her, peeling the cloth back from Bertha's body and pulling off her own cloak to bind the wounds with.

"How bad is it?" Bertha asked, spit dribbling over mangled lips.

Nova winced. "It's a bloody far shout from good."

"Stark Mountain. Healers will be there."

Bertha slurped, coughed blood. She rolled onto her back, clutching at her belly.

"I will not die here, you hear?" she hissed at Nova. "Do you hear?"

Nova nodded slowly. "I hear ye."

"Let's go."

Nova bound the wounds as best she could, wrist-deep in gore, fetching Barry's cloak and rolling it beneath Bertha's head. Then, gently placing the woman onto Bailey's back (he did try to clip the baroness with his beak), they moved towards the mountains. The lump of rock in the blood-red desert.

They rode for hours, with Barry and Nova taking turns on Empoleon's back. Occasionally, they stopped to wet a cloth and moisten Bertha's lips.

And when they arrived—

"They tried to kill the baroness!"

Flint raised them hell.

For a moment, Nova just ignored him, even as people trudged out of their homes around the volcano. The Valley of Stark Mountains was beautiful – stepping onto the sand strewn rock, the wind howling in her hair, Nova could see ribbon-like fissures lining the gorges, the water on the canyon floor that dribbled over minerals and stones. Trees and saplings, greyed from ash, lined the sides of each little home.

Then, she felt Lucian and Flint and Aaron's eyes on her as they hauled Bertha into their arms.

"She's badly hurt," Lucian was saying to Aaron. "Take her to heal."

Flint, on the other hand, was scowling at Nova. "You did this. You tried to kill her."

"We tried to kill her?" Nova retorted. "She tried to kill us!"

Lucian took one long look at Bertha's bloody body. Arched his brow. "Right. We're supposed to trust your word."

"We bloody—"

"She's telling the truth, Lucian…" Bertha rasped, even as Aaron tried maneuvering her through the thin line of people. "They saved me."

"They what?"

"They saved me."

Flint only clucked his tongue. "Get her inside. She's clearly not well."

And as Aaron dragged her away, Barry folded his arms.

"So?" he asked. "When's the next trial? We're ready for it."

Flint only rolled his eyes. "Give it a few days. We're waiting for people to come."

"People?"

"Oh, aye, people." The red-haired man smiled wickedly. "We'll be inviting all of Sinnoh to watch it."

Then, he was gone, people parting for him. Lucian, however, lingered back. Staring at Nova. At Barry. At the blood on their hands and the sand in their hair.

Then, he left them. Not daring to look back.

But Nova had seen it – that glimmer in his eyes. Sharp and cold as metal.

Fear.

Fear.

That night, Nova decided to pay a visit to Bertha.

The darkness in the room came like thick velvet curtains, and for a moment, Nova stood in the doorway, her eyes wandering across the furniture. The bed frame. The cushions. The window. The stars that dwelt beyond—

She froze as she saw the silhouette, hovering over Bertha's body. Tall. Cloaked. Gentle fingers stroking the old woman's hand.

Nova hadn't realised she had been holding her breath until she stumbled, her foot forcing the floor to creak.

The silhouette jerked back, startled.

Then, with a flash of light, they were gone.

Nova blinked once, watching as only Bertha remained, her head pressed into the pillow.

"November?" the old woman croaked. "Is that you?"

For a second, she wasn't sure if Bertha had seen the silhouette. But the baroness' eyes were still closed, her head stirring as if the light had awoken her.

So, Nova nodded. "Baroness."

"November. I'm sorry."

"It's… alright."

It was weird saying the words. Strange to not spit at her for trying to hurt her best friend. For leading them in a godawful desert to run for their lives.

But it felt strangely good. Like a breath of fresh air.

"When do you plan on returning my letter, November?"

Nova flushed, her smile sheepish. "Queen Cynthia told you she was going."

"Aye, she did."

"Do you know when she's returning? Do you think she's…"

"Dead? Nay."

Nova tilted her head to the side. "Nay?"

"Everyone else does. But I don't."

"Why not?"

Bertha mad a small humming sound. Then, with her body still lying flat on the mattress, she reached her hand out and beckoned for the gladiator. "Come here."

The gladiator moved to her side, dragging a chair.

"I've lost my lover," Bertha said softly. "I've lost some of my sons and daughters. And the funny thing is that I always, always knew they were dead before anyone ever had to tell me."

Nova settled onto the chair. "How?"

"I felt it." Bertha placed her bony little hand on Nova's chest. A bit to the left. "In here."

"Yer heart. It felt like someone was ripping it out?"

The old woman chuckled. "Nay, not that dramatic. But it feels like someone is pinching it. Warning it. And when you realise…"

She froze, staring thoughtfully at the fingers on the young gladiator's heart.

"I haven't felt it yet. So I know my granddaughter is alive. And she will return. Even if no one else will believe me."

Nova, herself, placed her hand over the woman's fingers. Squeezed it.

"I believe you," she said. Then, with her eyes moving over to the window, she added, "And I think she's a lot closer than we think."

"I sure hope so, November."

Then, with her hand against Nova's heart, she fell back into her sleep. Her breathing soft. A smile on her lips.

And Nova took one last long look out the window.

"A lot closer than we think."

It didn't take her long to find Barry. All she had to do was look for the tavern.

But she was shocked to find Riley there.

In seconds, she hurtled herself into his arms, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, laughing as he nearly fell back from her. As he held her there, his hand running through her hair, she leaned in and whispered.

"Clefable?"

He sighed. "Aaron still has her."

From beside them, Barry slammed his drink onto the table. "Dammit. We can't tell anyone about these bastards until we save her—"

"Wait," Nova cut in.

They went silent, listening.

"Queen Cynthia isn't dead," she finally said, slowly. "She's alive."

Barry snorted. "Nova—"

"Trust me."

"So—"

"We can turn away. Leave these trials. Cynthia will come back and all will be well," she explained. "There is no need to fight those bastards and have them try to kill us."

Riley nodded slowly. "Aye, if you're right… Your safety is important. I can tell Flint to cancel his arrangements for his—"

"No."

They both turned to Barry, eyes wide.

"I don't want it to be cancelled," the blind boy quickly said.

Nova waited for Riley to say something. And when he didn't, she huffed.

"Barry, are ye mad?"

"I want to fight Queen Cynthia when she comes back," Barry shot back. "I want to. I want to kick Flint's arse."

"You could get hurt—"

Barry gave a quick, sharp laugh. "Nova, we're gladiators. We already have been hurt."

"Aye, but—"

"This is what I love. This is what I want. This is what we've worked for! I don't want me last battle to be running through sand while some Hippowdon were sniffing me arse. I want something like… like Veilstone. Something… exciting."

Nova exchanged a glance with Riley, who only raised his hands in surrender. Looked over at the many empty glasses of ale on the table.

"One last battle," Barry said. "Please. For the glory."

And the gladiator sighed.

"Fine. For the glory."

OKAY I am sorry for the delay but also... I'm a bloody PROPHET?

LIKE OKAY FOLKS SO

TWO YEARS AGO, I DECIDED TO NUZLOCKE SINNOH. DIAMOND, IN PARTICULAR.

THEN I DECIDED TO NOVELISE IT.

AND SHOVE IT IN THE MEDIEVAL PERIOD. BASED OFF THE ANCESTORS OF DAWN/LUCAS.

AND THEN NINTENDO PULLS THIS SHIT ON ME? "LEGEND OF ARCEUS", SET IN THE PAST OF SINNOH BASED OFF THEIR ANCESTORS? I'M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT?