Fall Of The Empire
Rating: T (for now.)
Disclaimer: I don't own this. If I did, the second season would have been out already, and I would be all over that like white on rice.
Author's Notes: ohmygodi'malmosttotheendfinally.
I won NaNoWriMo, everybody.
Warnings: Echo, why are you so mean lately? :c
Cursing for this chapter. You've been warned. All courtesy of Echo.
Another Note: More strange journal entries in my dA.
What could they mean?
Echo was far from happy.
She sat on top of the Thunder Tank, doing her best to ignore the irritating sounds of drilling, hammering, and tinkering. The sun didn't bother her - either did the searing hot metal of the tank. Anything was better than being inside it. Beneath her, she could hear Tygra and Panthro bickering with one another - a rhetoric they'd been at for well over a few hours now. The pair were attempting to install the new object of her loathing into the Thunder Tank as some kind of guidance system. . .
And just the thought of that made two equally sharp pangs of rage and suffering stab into her.
Beneath her, the tank whirred to life. Echo grabbed her knees, bringing them close to her chest. In the distance, she could see the Tower of Omens, looming as an obelisk of bad memories. Soon, when the Book was installed, they would move out. And she would be far away from this place. . . but the Book would be right there, in the dashboard, reminding her of what Jaga had said.
She grit her teeth as Jaga's resigned expression flashed through her mind.
The Tank finally started, quickly climbing to full power, but then a shiver passed through it. A sickening spluttering noise came from the engine, and then plumes of smoke shot out of the exhaust pipes. Several critical relays in the machine short-circuited, if the beeping noise from inside meant anything. Though it was wrong, and it wasn't their fault at all, Echo took a sadistic pleasure when the tank spluttered again and shut down with a pathetic whine.
". . . Yeah, we're gonna be here for a while." Tygra said, tone exasperated.
"Maybe we'll have more luck with the supplies." Panthro countered, grumbling as he disappeared into the guts of the vehicle.
Tygra swiveled around, and Echo flicked her eyes to him for a moment before resuming her ever-watchful sentry of the Tower.
"So. . . you just gonna sit there and sulk all day or are you actually gonna do something?"
Quicker than he could blink, Echo whipped her head to face him, eyes narrowed.
"Excuse me?" She snapped.
She had an outlet, and oh, man, she couldn't wait to use it.
Tygra, to his credit, looked thoroughly unafraid of her.
"All you've been doing is just sitting around and moping-"
Echo got to her feet, a fist clenched. She was going to sock Tygra right across the cheek, and she was going to relish it so much-
A hand laid on her shoulder, and Echo turned again. She wasn't fond of people restraining her, not anymore, and if Panthro thought that he was going to be able to do it again, he'd have another thing coming.
But no.
The Cat standing behind her was Cheetara. Understanding and empathy were reflected in her eyes.
"What Tygra meant to say, Echo, is that we think it might be a good idea if you took a walk. Just for a little bit - to help get your mind off things?"
Echo wanted to tell her to go to hell. She knew what she was trying to do, and it wasn't going to work. Cheetara was feeling sorry for her. There really wasn't any need to be, either. It was true that yesterday, she had been an emotional mess. She'd been crying for a good portion of the evening, and she'd had to be restrained, even. But that was yesterday.
Today was today.
Truthfully, the human was tired of being a walking bag of tears. So, instead, she'd found it a lot easier to get angry.
A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she saw the twins peeking over the tank, and they looked worried. Worried and scared. Echo remembered her breakdown, the way she'd attacked the Cats right before the Book had repelled her, and the way she'd sobbed until her stomach and throat had ached.
She was the cause of that fear.
. . . Echo didn't like that. She wanted to see them smile again.
She shrugged off the cleric's hold and went to the back of the tank. Lion-O was emerging from the transport, a bag on his shoulders. . . and another one in his hands.
So you were in on this, too. You probably proposed the stupid idea. Echo hopped down, hearing muttered comments about her from a certain tiger - but they were quickly put to rest by a sharp 'hush' from Cheetara.
The lion shot her a smile and offered the bag, which Echo snatched out of his grip and tossed on her shoulders. Snarf looked up at her and offered an unhappy 'mraow', but she ignored him. Lion-O grinned at her, seeming incredibly happy, but Echo just wanted to smack it off his face.
She glared at him.
"I really don't want to go."
"I know!" He chirped.
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm pissed."
"Yup. I can see that. Alright, everyone, we'll be heading out now - be back in a few hours!"
Without another word, Lion-O grabbed her wrist and began to drag her along, happy smile still in place. Echo snapped at him, trying to fight - she was in no mood to go anywhere - but he seemed oblivious to all her efforts to flee. Minutes passed before Lion-O finally allowed her to wrest herself out of his hold, and Echo glared at his back, rubbing at her wrist.
"I can walk by myself, thank you." She growled.
Anger bubbled in her gut as she looked at the lion.
She'd been incredibly cold and hostile to Lion-O over the course of the past day.
It wasn't fair. The Book completely and totally accepted him, no question, and it denied her? Moreso, for no reason whatsoever. Lion-O had seen things - she knew he had. The Book had shown him something, and that frustrated her to no end. She knew her anger was misplaced and irrational, that she shouldn't have directed it to her friend, but god, she just couldn't help herself.
Jealousy was an ugly, nasty beast, and right then and there, she wasn't sure she wanted to force it into submission. She liked wallowing in her own anger and self-pity, thank you very much. After craving the truth for over six months, and being violently denied after facing such obstacles, she felt she was owed a little bit of time to be pissy.
They were walking on a dirt road, and the silence that settled between them was acidic.
Well, that was courtesy of Echo, really.
Minutes passed in silence, and Lion-O, knowing staring a conversation was useless, began to hum. Echo bore that for a while before she snapped at him, and he stopped. Her nerves felt like a downed power line, raw and exposed, cracking and snapping at every opportunity.
It was a relief when they began to approach a settlement in the distance.
As they drew nearer, Echo stared at it.
That doesn't look intimidating at all.
Swords, melted together, formed a high, sharp barrier. It guarded the town against invaders, and if Echo was thinking right, probably warned the rest of the people away. High above, a factory rose, spewing out smoke and soot. The scent of burning metal greeted them, and Echo itched, hand instinctively tracing one of the scabbards on her back. If her precious swords were melted down somehow, she was fairly certain she'd lose it.
They were one of the last remaining artifacts of Thundera.
"This doesn't look intimidating at all." Lion-O stated. Echo's lips twisted into the ghost of a smile.
Snarf jumped, startled, and gave a "mrr!" as he clung to Lion-O's leg. Echo looked around, trying to find the source of his fear, but the only thing she could come up with was the skull of a dead animal strapped to an entryway. A crow sat on it, cawing down at them.
"I've heard stories about towns like this," Lion-O continued, "Just never seen one before. . . hey, it's okay, Snarf. We'll get what we need for the tank and leave."
"Good." Echo said, voice deadpan.
As they were about to move, another voice interrupted them.
"Think you could lend a hand, friend?"
Both of them turned, and there, on the wall around the town, was a rabbit. More specifically, one that had caught himself on the swords, and just happened to be swaying in the breeze.
"Up here!" He called, "I seem to have snagged myself. . . again."
He sounded quite calm about it, as though he did this every day.
"What are you?" Lion-O asked.
Echo rolled her eyes.
"Who are you?" She corrected, tone snappish.
"Just a drifter, I suppose." He said languidly, not appearing bothered by his situation at all.
Without another word, Lion-O jumped up onto the barrier and began to pull him free. The rabbit floated in the air like a leaf, defying all laws of gravity. He landed on the fence posts and looked at Echo, a very dull gleam of curiosity in his eye.
"And what, pray tell, are you, Missy?"
"None of your goddamn business, that's what." Echo growled.
Lion-O jumped down and joined them, jogging over and laughing nervously as he shook Echo's shoulder.
"Don't mind her! She woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."
The rabbit - Drifter, Echo mentally named him - rolled his swatch of willow between his lips and flicked his eyes between them.
"I can see that. Anyway, thanks for the assist."
"Maybe you can return the favor. We're looking for supplies?"
"Well, I'd suggest finding them somewhere else," Drifter said, tone amiable, "This is a swordsman's town, stranger. . . and they duel for keeps. Leave. Before it's too late - or don't. I don't care!" He rolled over, laying on his back, and folded his hands behind his head.
Beside her, Lion-O grinned, cocky and reassuring, and drew Omens.
"I can handle myself alright, don't you worry."
Drifter chuckled.
"This town loves guys like you, swaggering around with your fancy sword, thinking you can't lose. But you will!" And then, under his breath, he added, "They all do."
Echo detected a slight waver to his voice, but she didn't think much of it. The piece of willow between his lips gave everything he said a slow drawl.
"Look, are you going to add any helpful advice? Or are you just going to spout cryptic nonsense all day long?" She said peevishly.
"Echo!" Lion-O hissed.
Drifter stared, seeming completely and totally fine with her attitude. He cracked open one eye lazily and looked at her.
"Not very patient, are you? Anyway, like I said, take my advice and blow on out of here. . . or don't. I really don't care."
A gust of wind traveled by and Drifter was picked up. His body moved like liquid, floating and twisting on the breeze. As he slowly traveled away, they watched him, amazed as his flexibility. When he was a safe distance away, Lion-O pinned her with a stern glare. She blinked in surprise as he regarded her, all of his features drawn tight in barely-leashed agitation.
"Look, you might be in a rotten mood, but that gives you no right to act like that! You could get us both killed if you mouth off to the wrong stranger."
"Doesn't stop you." She remarked, propping a hand up on one of her hips, "In fact, a lot of things don't seem to apply to you-"
"Echo."
She stopped, pressing her lips into a thin line.
Lion-O looked at her, about to reprimand her, but he paused, and then sighed. In the span of a heartbeat, his expression softened, and a tired smile creased his face.
"I brought you here so you could relax, okay? I wanted to help you get your mind off things. That's all I want. I promise. Can you do that for me?"
For a long moment, Echo stood there. She contemplated being pissy for a while longer, but. . . Lion-O really didn't deserve what she was doing. It wasn't his fault. Eventually, she finally relaxed and nodded her head. She didn't apologize, though she really should have, but Lion-O accepted it. He smiled broadly and grasped her shoulder.
"Alright. Baby steps," Lion-O said. "Well. . . he was strange. Let's go in and see if they're all that weird, yeah?"
The town was populated and busy, that was for certain. Echo walked closely beside Lion-O, taking in the town's interior. Animals of all shapes, breeds, and sizes, but in terms of numbers, Thundera had been a least five times more populated. Echo wasn't claustrophobic, so she didn't mind too much. Vendors and warriors cluttered the main throughway, eagerly swapping goods.
The human breathed in and out slowly as memories of the slums sluggishly crawled to the forefront of her mind.
I miss secret missions to buy Jorma's goods. . .
A flash of sadness smacked into her.
Jorma. . .
I miss him.
"Remember when we used to go to Jorma's?"
Echo startled, wondering just how Lion-O was capable of reading her mind. But the lion only looked at her and offered a cheeky grin, and she relaxed. No, he wasn't reading her mind. They were just. . . oddly in-synch today, apparently. Turning to him, she gave him a tiny smile of her own, one of her hands coming up to stroke the ends of a hairband tied in her hair.
"I do. You don't know the troubles I went through to escape Sunda."
"Oh, you don't don't know the troubles I had to go through to escape the palace guard!"
Echo laughed.
And. . . she had to admit. It felt good.
"No way! Sunda figured out about the rope out of the window, the pillow decoy, the paint I used to color my hair and my body-"
"Oh, by Thundera! I remember that stuff. You looked like a mangy kitten. It looked so bad. I'm sorry I even suggested dying your hair!"
Echo shot him an irritated glare, but it was halfhearted at best. Within moments, that scowl had transformed into something of a smirk, which quickly morphed into a smile. And, before, she knew it, she was laughing, and Lion-O was joining in. It had been a long while since she'd laughed that hard, and after her spectacular blow up yesterday. . . it felt warranted. Good.
She was still chuckling when they approached a vendor's booth that Lion-O pointed out. They strode over, and began to place their order. Breathing out a contented sigh, Echo watched as Lion-O dropped three golden coins into the vendor's hands.
The shopkeep paused, examining the coins.
"Wait, this is a Thunderian shilling, right? Well, I'm afraid we don't deal with antiques." With a practiced flip, he used his thumb to fling the coin back to Lion-O.
Echo stared.
Their money had never been refused before. . . but it had been a few months since the last time they had had to stop for supplies.
"But Thunderian coins were once the most prized in the land."
"But now," The vendor said, crossing his arms over his chest moodily, "They're relics of a fallen empire."
Lion-O scratched his head in bemusement, and Echo turned to him.
"How are we going to get money, Lion-O?" She asked.
The vendor let out a loud 'hmph!', drawing their attention back to him.
"What everyone else here does, of course!" He said, impatiently pointing, "Sword competition! Not that you two look like you can measure up."
Echo's irritation bubbled underneath the thin veil of happiness she'd been feeling. She was about to launch off and tell him just what he could do with a sword, but Lion-O grabbed her hand, as if sensing the return of her incredibly bad mood, and began to drag her off.
"Let's do this! It's right over there, see, Echo?"
He pointed to an obelisk with deep rends in it. A large, cheering crowd was gathered around it. As they drew nearer, the noise of the crowd escalated, growing so loud it was almost deafening. A good handful of swordsmen stood around, cheering as a competitor approached the towering black rock.
The animal advanced, bearing a rather large sword. Echo hands ached at the sight of it - she wouldn't have been able to swing it if she tried.
The swordsman held it up, letting the blade glimmer in the sunlight.
"The great Olicat!" He proclaimed, "Its blade was forged in the lava pits of Mt. Tiramabu! Witness its awesome power!"
With a heavy shove, the dog reared back his sword and swung. It made a loud shing as it sliced through the rock like butter, and while it wasn't a very large cut that it made, it was certainly larger than others in the rock - and the blade was undamaged and clean. The cheers of the crowd grew louder as the judge came out of the sea of bodies and measured the cut.
The swordsman pumped his fist into the air in victory as he was declared the newest victor by far.
A pig swaggered out of the crowd, cocky and swaggering.
I think I'm beginning to see what Drifter was talking about. . .
"Nice," The pig said, "But nothing compares to my sword. The gods themselves fear its edge - behold!"
He swung, wildly uttering a battle cry. Echo grimaced as she watched him - he was out of shape, and he wasn't even holding the hilt right. She cringed as he just whacked it up against the rock with little elegance or grace. It produced a hollow klang, and then a moment later, it shattered. The pig turned a deep, cheery red, and walked away in shame, the laughs of the crowd hot on his heels.
Another swordsman parted from the crowd, and the people gathered silenced themselves.
"The wind," He said, fangs poking out over his gums, "The trees. The morning dew on a delicate orchid - all tremble before my beauty of a blade. . . Kurokai."
Echo didn't know what breed of animal he was. He was just some kind of creature. He was also covered in so many bandages, it was a wonder he could walk. Idly, Echo mused, it was probably what she looked like when she had first come to Thundera.
She focused on him again as he rushed forward and swung, and she could see that his swordplay was impressive. The judge jogged forward and measured, before declaring him the overall winner.
"Is there no one else who will accept the challenge?" The little judge asked, voice ringing out across the clearing.
"I accept!"
"Lion-O! What are you doing?" She asked, facing the lion. He'd raised his hand and everything. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, na claustrophobia began to set in. She really didn't want to be there anymore.
No drawing attention to the group - it was one of their survival rules.
Especially in towns.
Who the hell knew where Mumm-Ra's spies were hiding. . .
Murmurs traveled through the crowd. They were intrigued.
Echo barely suppressed a flinch when Omens was thrust in front of her, metal gleaming in the sunlight.
"Uh, Lion-O?" She queried, glancing at him uncertainly.
"Kiss it."
Echo blinked.
"What?!" She asked incredulously, voice warbling as she tried to keep herself from shouting.
"For luck! It's one of our customs. You know that!"
Echo's cheeks flushed as a hot blush filled her face. Old friends and wives - regardless of sex - would kiss the blade of the person they wanted to protect. . . or wish them luck. Echo leaned forward, glancing at Lion-O, who was smiling amiably, nothing more. omens would be more appropriate to kiss than the blade itself, so Echo did, a fierce heat on her cheeks.
She tried not to read too much into it when Omens flashed brightly and gave a happy hum.
Lion-O gave her a wink as he walked out of the crowd, a bright grin on his face.
"Do you have anything to say?" The judge asked loudly, projecting his voice over the arena.
"Only to the other competitors: you're all vying for second place!"
So much for not drawing attention to ourselves.
Every swordsman laughed, and despite the flush on her face, Echo smiled secretly to herself. Nobody knew Omens at all.
Lion-O drew his sword, and Echo could practically feel Omen's excitement. Her hands were shaking - almost as though she were holding the blade itself. The Cat stood before the rock, calm and composed. Then, with cry of effort, he swung. Moments passed, and there was no gash, no cracking of rock to be seen.
The crowd began to snicker and chuckle and point, but Lion-O ignored them as he calmly sheathed Omens.
There came a small chipping noise, then, and the crowd quieted as it began to grow louder. The rock began to crack-
And then shattered cleanly down the middle, splitting entirely in two.
On the outside of the dirt ring erected around the rock, the entire crowd cheered for Lion-O. Echo ran forward, shoving through the ring of animals, giddiness rushing through her. She slid to a stop right in front of the lion and eagerly grabbed his hands and jumped up and down happily.
"You did it, Lion-O! I can't believe it! It split in two!"
For a moment. . .
A blissful, wonderful moment, Echo was in the past.
Just like old times. Before the Book refused her, before things got complicated. Before the war.
Lion-O grinned at her, blue eyes lighting at her happiness.
She only separated long enough from her friend for him to accept his winnings from the judge.
The vendor didn't even look perturbed at his earlier behavior, which kind of irked Echo, but wisely, she kept quiet. She was actually kind of happy, and she didn't want to get all pissy for nothing. She was elated, upon discovering that Lion-O's winnings easily covered their supplies - and then some. She grinned as she looked at their new haul.
"Anything else you might be needing?" The vendor asked.
Lion-O shook his head, giving the vendor an affable smile.
"No, I think we have everything we need."
"Thank you."
Echo grabbed a newly-purchased pack that wasn't worn with age. Lion-O had surprised her with his wise thinking. Instead of purchasing all of their supplies at this vendor, he planned on hitting up a few more towns and slowly buying new packs and gear for everyone. She wasn't sure if it was because she was with him, or her still-irritable mood, but she'd been the first one to get a new pack. She almost felt kind of spoiled from the action, and a little selfish, but she'd take it.
After all, nothing quite had the satisfaction as cinching a new pack on her shoulders. Her old one had dug into her skin and caused more blisters than she could count. It would take some wiggling to get her swords to fit nicely and still be functional, but that would just give her a project to work on.
Keeping her hands occupied seemed like just the cure she needed.
"That was an impressive victory, young lord," A smooth voice said, interrupting them. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Duelist, and you, my friend, have something I desire."
Echo stared at the so-called Duelist and took him in. She couldn't determine what species he was, but she knew she didn't like the look of him at all. Though he was dressed to the nines, he exuded an aura of smarmy-ness, and that just made her skin crawl.
Lion-O was examining him, too, casting a crucial eye onto the strange. Echo quirked her head to the side and adopted Lion-O's affable smile, drawing the Duelist's attention.
"Sorry," She said, attempting to be friendly, "But Snarf isn't for sale. I couldn't bear to part with him if I tried."
She felt Snarf duck under her legs and clutch at her ankles, cowering behind her. Poor thing. I don't know how many times somebody's offered to buy him outright!
"I'm not here for your pet," The Duelist replied. He gestured to Lion-O. "I'm here to test your sword against my best blade. Winner takes all."
Echo stared at the blue-skinned man. Was he serious? Lion-O would never be stupid enough to wager Omens. Especially when the Duelist was sure to lose. Lion-O might not have been the most spectacular swordsman in all of Third Earth, but he hadn't lost a battle yet.
"Not interested," Lion-O said, tone growing serious, "I've already proved I've got the best sword in town."
"Indeed," The Duelist agreed, "The Sword of Omens is legendary, even if these parts. But it's not your blade that needs to prove itself. It's you."
He knows about Omens? Her stomach started to knot in a way that suggested that ill tidings were coming, and it would probably be a good idea for them to ditch town. She gave Lion-O a nervous stare, attempting to convey her unease.
"I said no." Lion-O asserted, a harsh growl in his voice.
Echo pivoted back, facing the Duelist again. She examined him, looking for telltale signs of aggression, and finding none, grabbed Lion-O's hand. She started to walk, guiding him away.
"We don't want any trouble. We're leaving." She spoke quietly, but firmly.
"A wise decision. Perhaps if the last owner of that sword had shared your cowardice, he'd still be alive. And you would still have your empire."
At that, Lion-O jerked his hand out of hers and growled, fangs flashing.
"What are the stakes?" He hissed.
The Duelist grinned, looking very much like a child who had gotten his way. Like he knew he'd be getting it all along.
"If you win, you get my best sword. If I win, I get Omens. . . and her."
Duelist looked at her, bloody red eyes taking her in. Echo took a second to finally register the fact that the Duelist was talking about her, and when she did, she wanted to laugh. She barely managed to keep a disbelieving, amused smile on her face. What kind of an idiot did the Duelist think Lion-O was? There was no way he would offer her up to slavery-
"Deal."
Echo spun around in horror, mouth open as she stared in absolute shock.
"L-Lion-O!"
"Relax, Echo," He soothed, "I won't lose. You might as well hand over your best sword right now." The lion said, his ears flicking down to convey his displeasure.
"The town square. High noon." The Duelist replied, a dark grin on his lips.
Echo didn't bother watching the smarmy creep walk away. She continued to stare at her friend, the one who had just bet her freedom on his ability to duel. . . with someone who reeked of foul play. When the Cat finally looked back at her, he seemed a bit taken aback by her expression.
"What?" He asked, sounding thoroughly confused.
Echo. . . she started shaking.
"What am I to you?" She asked, quietly, just barely managing to keep her voice from shaking.
"What?" Lion-O reiterated.
"What am I to you?!" Echo shouted, uncaring of the spectacle she was causing. Lion-O looked around, seeing the curious stares. Echo didn't give a damn.
"You're my friend! Why are you-"
"I'll be damned. I'm your friend now? Coulda fooled me. You treated me like I was a goddamn piece of property!"
Lion-O honestly looked shocked, as though he hadn't just remembered what he'd just done. At her feet, even Snarf gave Lion-O a hiss of displeasure. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"Did you even bother to ask me? Does my freedom mean absolutely nothing to you? You just offered me into slavery-"
"You know I won't lose!" Lion-O interrupted, "Calm down! There's no reason to get upset-"
Echo glared at him, and the sight of it was so strong, it was enough to wither Lion-O's voice in his throat. Her friend looked sufficiently cowed, and Echo abruptly turned away from him, nearly shaking, she was that mad. I have a crush on that. Part of my heart wants that?
Screw that. Cheetara, he's all yours. I'll even help you two get together.
"You've sure got guts, kid," The vendor interjected, completely ignoring their spat, "The Duelist is a legend in these parts. Did you see all those swords on his back? They're trophies from all those who have fought against him - and lost. He is without conscience or morals, and he won't stop until his greedy thirst is slaked. . . Now he wants your sword. And that curious friend you have there. . . and they will be his."
They.
THEY.
Indignation coursed through Echo, hot and heavy. She spun on her heel and stormed up to the vendor's booth. The small, troll-like creature jumped back in fear when Echo smacked her hands down onto the wooden desk.
"No, he won't lose, and do I look like a they to you?!" She shouted, unholy fury in her voice.
Without another word, she seized a part of Lion-O's armor and stormed away, intent on making sure he was good and ready for his duel in a few hour's time.
Lion-O protested as she frog-marched him through the town, but she didn't let him wriggle his way out of her hold. She was looking, scanning, and searching for a suitable place that would serve as a good practice area - and found one.
A forge, running hot, but empty, framed a semi-messy graveyard of half-finished swords. Likely it was intended for apprentices, and it just happened to be their luck that it was empty that day.
Finally releasing the lion, Echo worked on dropping the pack from her back, and deposited it roughly on the ground. New or not, she was pissed. Task completed, she drew both of her swords and faced down the Cat standing opposite her.
She didn't say she was going to come at him - she just did.
Practice began.
Echo let Lion-O be her punching bag. . . and if she were being honest with herself, she was getting a little too into it. She didn't care if she nicked, bruised, or drew blood from him. This stupid, careless Cat had just offered her into slavery, without batting an eye. It felt way too good to vent off her rage and her irritation.
If he lost. . .
Their swords rang out as they clashed, blades flashing in the light. An hour passed, and they were stretching well into two before Lion-O paused. Echo stopped, muscles holding a familiar burn, and the sweat that was developing on her face felt good, for once. It had been a long while since she'd sparred like this. . .
And Lion-O had been kind enough to volunteer to be her sparring partner. How nice of him.
What a good friend. When somebody offers him up like an object, I'll be sure to extend the favor.
Echo was about to launch back into it before Lion-O lifted his hands in a supplicating gesture.
"Okay. Alright," He wheezed, "I need to rest a little bit. You're going kind of hard on me."
Echo glared at him, mustering up the most indignant look she could manage.
"Can you blame me?"
His cheeks flushed, and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.
At leas the has the decency to look sheepish about it.
"Ah, no, I can't. . . Look, I'm sorry. It was a spur of the moment thing, he was talking about my dad - I swear it won't happen again."
Echo sheathed her swords.
"It's been, what, maybe two months? You really need to stop letting people get under your skin like that. Your father is dead-"
"Echo-" Lion-O hedged, sending her a look that read, 'traversing on thin ice here.'
"-let me finish. It's wonderful that you honor your father's memory. But just think about what you just did, Lion-O. Seriously. Think. You offered me up into slavery. Slavery. Because he took a jab at your father's honor."
The lion chewed on that, thinking. Snarf, sitting on a pile of discarded swords, looked up at his master and mewled.
"I know, Snarf. It was stupid. I'm sorry - I swear I really am. But I'm confident. I swear. Nothing the Duelist has in that scabbard can beat the Sword of Omens!"
It better not, a voice in her head acidly added.
"Oh, look. There's that ego kicking in again." Came a lazy voice.
Both of them turned to see the Drifter, dangling from a sword point once more, floating in the breeze. In greeting, he waved at the pair airily.
"Mind helping me down?" The rabbit asked, looking content to just remain there.
"Drifter." Lion-O greeted wearily, "I know what you're gonna tell me - that I shouldn't have accepted his challenge. Please don't. I'm getting told off enough as it is."
"No, no," Echo said, crossing her arms over her chest, "Please do. I don't think he quite understands what I'm screaming at him."
"Why would I care what you do?" Drifter asked in turn, "You're the one who's going to lose his sword, not me. Not to mention I heard you bargained Missy into indentured servitude. . ."
In response, Lion-O lifted Omens up, watching the sword gleam in the light. For a moment, Echo most certainly agreed with the Drifter. She could practically see Lion-O's ego with gigantic signs saying, 'pop me!'
"I can swing steel a lot better than you think." He said, waving Omens around a little.
Drifter smiled, patient and tolerant, as though he were looking down at a child.
"You coulda fooled me with those moves. Why, even if you tried, you couldn't split this willow switch!"
"You're insane," Lion-O returned, "Did you see what this sword did to that boulder?!"
Drifter chuckled.
"If I only had your spirit. But the fight left me long ago. I'm a good sport, however - how about I give you three swings?"
"I'll do it in one!" Lion-O said, confidence (too much, if you ask me), ringing out in his voice.
Echo searched the courtyard and found a long reed pole. She picked it up and gently maneuvered it underneath Drifter's scarf. She brought him down to the ground, and set to righting him, as a strong gust of wind picked up and threatened to blow him away. Despite his unkempt appearance, Echo found that he was actually quite clean, she'd half expected his fur to be filled with gunk and twigs-
A very familiar electric tingle wove through her hands, and quicker than a flash, she snatched her hand away, heart racing. Please don't let me get lost in someone else's memories, please please please!
"Why thank you, Missy. How kind of you. Not angry anymore, are we?"
"At you? No. At him? You can light a thousand fires with my anger right now."
Drifter smiled.
"Ah, well. Don't worry, you'll get even angrier soon. I promise you'll get used to life in the Duelist's care."
Echo tossed the reed stick aside with a nasty snarl and stalked a good distance away. She decided that Snarf's company was much more desirable in that moment. The sharp tips of swords threatened to flay her open as she seated herself on a scrap pile, but she hardly cared. Snarf crawled into her lap, and Echo pet Lion-O's caretaker, hoping to alleviate more of her rampant emotions.
Lion-O's cry brought her attention to the pair, but she lost interest when she found - predictably - that Lion-O was missing Drifter's willow switch by a wide margin.
"That's one!" Drifter said.
"Two!"
Lion-O kept shouting, covering up whatever Drifter was saying, but after a few seconds, the din quieted. A pang of fear bolted through her, and she closed her eyes, momentarily stilling her hands.
I am going to be the Duelist's new pet, she thought grimly.
"That was certainly more than three, but I don't care. I made my point."
"There was a point?" Lion-O growled.
Drifter was talking, but. . . Echo looked up again.
Fear raced through her.
Oh, no, no, no!
She'd thought she'd been in the clear. She'd been wrong.
The landscape was fading, the wind kicking up dirt. Fresh, fragrant, healthy grass burst through the packed soil. She swallowed as she bit her cheek, hard, and pinched her arm - but nothing worked. Pain wasn't rooting her back in the present. In a move of desperation, Echo even sliced open her index finger on a rusty sword, but that didn't help, either.
In moments, Lion-O, Drifter, and Snarf disappeared.
Then she was sitting in the middle of a field at night. Before her, gentle, sloping plains rolled, framing a small hut. She could see smoke rising from the chimney stack, and she heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer pounding cheery-red steel. Two bright, full moons gave teh night she sat in a nice, cheery light with which to see.
Quick as a flash, time began to accelerate. The moons fell, the sun rose, and the moons rose again. . . rising and falling, faster and faster. Echo lost count at thirty, but even then, the sun and moons began to go even faster. All the while time was speeding by, the sounds of blacksmithing never faltered, and nobody came to visit.
Finally, the sun rose once more, and the door opened. A figure emerged from the hut, heavily cloaked in the shadowy darkness. As with the other time, however, Echo couldn't see him. He was cloaked in a glitchy shadow. She couldn't help but feel, however, that there was something decidedly familiar about the outline, but she couldn't readily be sure. The outline held up a beautiful, golden sword, and turned it this way and that in his hands so he it would catch the light.
"You are my greatest achievement," The smithy spoke, his voice so faint, she could barely hear it over the wind, "My beautiful sword. My Sword of Hattanzo!"
The world underneath her quivered, and quite suddenly the sunlight and beauty were gone. Dark clouds boiled overhead, threatening to unleash a deluge of rain, and the wind picked up, an omen of things to come. The smithy moved, standing tall, confident, and proud - oddly enough, it reminded Echo fiercely of Lion-O. She turned as she heard footsteps, and another silhouette appeared.
This one was unmistakable.
The Duelist.
The clouds bursted open as the two met, and rain began to lash them all. Within moments, the pair were locked in combat, lightning and thunder flashing and crackling in the air.
It's definitely a work of art, that sword, Echo noted, watching as the gold blade cut through the water droplets. The hand that wielded it was jut as skilled as well. But, as Echo looked on, the Duelist continued to dance away, flitting just out of reach. . . until he seized his opportunity. With a strong flick of his wrist, he disarmed the smithy.
Echo felt a sharp pang of empathy wash through her as the smithy's shoulder's slumped and he took a knee to the ground.
He'd worked so long on that sword. . .
The sun began to break, just in time to play golden beams of light over the Duelist as he walked away, sheathing his beautiful new prize.
As the light illuminated the shadows, and began to consume the landscape, Echo reeled as the shadows around the smithy dissipated.
Drifter?
She shook her head as the vision began to turn grainy and staticky. And, with an almighty jolt, she found herself back in the present. Thank god. Echo looked around, finding blinding sunshine and the scent of burning metal everywhere.
Oh, I'm back.
Praise everything holy and wonderful.
Drifter and Lion-O were talking, albeit they were closer than before, and it looked as though they were having some kind of argument. A tug at her pant leg made her look down, and she saw Snarf there, pulling on her clothes nervously.
". . . sword you forged!" Lion-O yelled, "I need your help! How can I beat the Sword of Hattanzo?"
Drifter was quiet.
Lion-O stalked up to him, fangs flashing as he yelled, "How can I beat it?!"
Straightening from the lean he'd developed, Drifter's face morphed into one of sincere concern.
"You. Can't! Understand?" He snapped at Lion-O.
He muttered something else as he walked away, brushing by Echo, and she swore it sounded suspiciously like, "Nobody can."
She frowned as Drifter walked away, and looked back at Lion-O.
The lion looked at her and then straightened, smoothing out the snarl from his features.
"It's okay, Echo. I don't need any advice from him."
Echo nodded her head, but she felt uneasy. Drifter kept walking away, until he finally disappeared behind a row of closely-knit buildings, and for some reason. . . Echo knew that his advice would be sorely needed.
The time Echo dreaded was finally upon them.
An eeriness settled upon the town as they stood in the square. It was strange, Echo noted, that the small clearing they stood in was completely devoid of other swordsmen. The townspeople had said that the Duelist was legendary. But nobody was there. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone. She stood beside Lion-O, holding Snarf, her pack on her back. She swallowed anxiously. Lion-O stood, tall and rigid, looping like the epitome of power and confidence. She looked up at her friend and offered a small smile.
"Win for me. Okay?"
In response, he drew Omens. The blade lengthened, and he offered it to her. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Echo gave a wry smile and lightly kissed the Eye of Thundera. Beneath her lips, Omens crackled to life and flashed.
Please help him win for me, Omens.
Then Lion-O walked out to meet the Duelist, who waited, calm and collected.
"You're punctual. I like that." Duelist grinned, voice smug and slick.
Lion-O didn't bother to honor that with a response.
In her arms, Snarf mewled worriedly, and Echo held him tighter to her, offering a small, soothing, 'shh.'
"Whenever you're ready." Duelist offered.
"Whenever you are!" Lion-O countered, voice gruff.
"Fine. Draw!"
Lion-O was the first to move, rushing forward, but his swing met empty air. Duelist had jumped, and unsheathed two of his own swords. Echo waned to turn away, fearful of the outcome, but she forced herself to watch. She had to. She knew she did. Her breath caught in her throat as the Duelist danced away from Lion-O's strikes, which were quickly becoming more and more desperate.
Gently, Echo deposited Snarf on the ground. Her stomach knotted as the Duelist began to smile.
Lion-O stepped backward, trying to put some distance between them, but the Duelist lurched forward, striking against his gauntlet, catching the lion off guard. Echo watched, horrified, as she saw a strong, very familiar flick of his hand, and the blue-skinned monstrosity disarmed the lion.
Omens embedded itself into the wood above Lion-O as the king sank down to the ground, shock etched into every groove of his face. The Duelist didn't bother to look at him as he claimed his prize, and on a small gust of wind that traveled through the pavilion, Echo could hear Omens screaming in defiance.
"Now, my white-haired curiosity, you can either-"
She didn't let him finish.
Echo whipped her hands up and drew her swords in record timing. Despite the dryness of her throat, she ran forward, grip tightening.
She swung forward, faster and tighter than Lion-O. Omens was a heavy sword, and her blades were lighter. She was quicker on her feet. Duelist seemed to anticipate this, for he brought his blades up to parry, and Echo grit her teeth in fury as her steel clashed against Omens. She separated from him forcibly as he smirked at her, as though he knew her thoughts.
I will get that sword back!
Echo launched another attack, crouching low and springing up, trying to catch him off guard - but Duelist moved out of the way again. She swiped at empty air, and then let out a surprised gasp as he twirled away, coming up behind her-
Time slowed down.
Echo saw two options.
Option one: she could let herself get hit. The blow to the back of her neck would paralyze her, and there was no telling what would happen to her while she was out of commission. Duelist would probably drag her off somewhere, and she'd never see the light of day again.
Option two: she could use her mind. Having just barely recovered from yesterday, there was no telling what side effects using her powers would bring.
Either way, she didn't have much time to decide. Both carried their risks. Wrenching her eyes shut, Echo concentrated, feeling her mind grinding together like glass, but at the very last moment, she was able to conjure up a shield. Duelist impacted with it, and it gave her enough time to whirl around and kick him, sending him crashing to the ground. The world exploded into a terrifying mass of colors and spinning shapes, and she swayed, trying to get her bearings.
"Echo, run! Run!"
Lion-O.
She blinked, and some of the world came into focus again.
People were running at her. They jangled, and at their hips, she saw manacles. Slave catchers. They had been waiting in the wings. Duelist came prepared.
She had to run. Turning, she sprinted, leaving the town square behind. The slave catchers were in hot pursuit, but Echo kept running, going through the swordsman's town. She had to find some avenue of escape. The main gates - if she could make it there before news spread, she could run out and get back to the tank.
She angled for it, but slid to a stop when she spotted more slave catchers ringing the entrance. I can't fight them all off. One of them will - no time to think!
The pair chasing her before had caught up with her, and Echo turned and ran again, heading to the bazaar. She could find some way to lose them there. She had to. She wasn't going to sit by idly and take her new life as a slave laying down. The bazaar was just as densely packed as when she had left it, which worked in her favor. She dove into the crowd, snaking her way through people. The slave catchers were yelling at the other animals, but she paid them no mind. She had to get out-
Oh.
Oh, no.
More slave catchers - much more than she could fight off - were at the other end of the bazaar, watching for her. She had nowhere to go. She was trapped. Her heart raced in her chest, and she jumped from foot to foot, looking for a way to escape -
And that was when hands locked over her and dragged her into an alley.
Echo struggled, fighting against them, battling, but her hands. . . met empty air?
The person released her, and she stumbled forward a few steps before whirling around, her swords raised, breathing heavily.
She was totally and completely shocked at what she was staring at.
"It's. . . it's you!" She breathed, dropping her arms down.
The shade that had haunted her dreams. The one covered by the same glitchy shadows that plagued the figures of her messed-up visions. She still couldn't see who they were, but Echo could tell that they were wearing a cloak, most of their features hidden within it. Calmly, the shadow spread its arms.
"Yes. I came. . . help you."
The voice was. . . strange. It sounded neither female nor male - it was just a shapeless voice. She couldn't even see the lips of the person move. Hell, it sounded like the voice was coming from inside of her head. It also sounded like a corrupted recording of some kind, with distortions and missing words.
"Help me? Can you get me out of the city? Is that what you mean?"
"No. I . . help you. . .way."
The shadow approached her, and Echo eyed them warily. They stepped close to her, and laid their hands on her skin - it felt more like a cold pressure than an actual touch. Lightly, they guided her hands to direct her swords back into her sheathes. God, this is so weird. The shadow treated her almost affectionately-
Scratch that. It was.
Blacked-out hands grabbed her own and held them softly.
"What do you mean? I'm so confused."
"The Cats. . . refused you. . . are owed. What Jaga keeps. . . is not his . . . I'm here . . . offer you . . . "
Her head felt like it was spinning. It was so hard to understand what they were saying.
"What are you saying?" She asked, "Are you. . . going to give me back my memories?"
A small ray of hope bloomed in her chest.
"No. . . not here."
Echo's expression must have fallen, for the shadow gripped her hands that much more tightly, thumb brushing over her skin.
"But I can. . . somewhere. . ."
"What?" Echo asked, almost lunging forward to grab their shoulders and shake them, "What are you saying? Somewhere else?"
". . . small steps. . . not ready. You. . . find. . . village."
"What? What village? Where?"
Echo's voice had risen to a shout, as the popping and staticky quality of the shade's voice had dimmed. It was growing quieter. At the edges, their countenance began to become transparent.
". . . sunny. You'll. . . find sunny-"
Something hard and heavy hit the back of her head, and before Echo could press the shadow, her body went limp.
She wasn't conscious when she hit the ground, the blow had been that strong.
Her mind drifted in and out of her body. The world came to her in a series of snapshots. Rough hands grabbed her and picked her up and slung her over a shoulder. She saw dry, packed earth. The backside of an animal she didn't know. A cold weight pressing against her neck, and the quiet rattling of chains. All of the images and noises felt disjointed from one another, but underneath them, Echo felt a certain. . . frustration.
How many times had she been promised her past and had it stripped from her?
Eventually, the world stopped spinning. She came back to herself, and found she was laying on a carpeted floor. . . in a hut. Her head throbbed, and she gently massaged her temple, trying to ease it away. Where the hell am I? Where's the shadow?
She looked around, but they were gone.
Echo tried to drop her head as frustration overwhelmed her, but something prevented her from doing that. She lifted up a shaking hand to touch at her neck. A heavy metal collar was locked securely there, and Echo's hands shook as she realized just what her situation was.
She'd been caught. Her friend had wagered her freedom without her consent, and he'd lost.
Just. . . just focus on the hut right now. That's all you need to do. She was desperate to get her mind off of current matters.
The hut was sparsely furnished. The only sign that it was inhabited was the fire flickering in the mantle. The world was blurry as she peered around her, and eventually, she saw the very familiar and loathed face of the Duelist. He just melted out of the walls, dropping out of thin air. Not at all the sight she wanted to see when she came to.
"Your attempts at escape were laughable," He said, mocking grin on his face, "A child could have outrun you. Not to mention you just gave up in that alley."
Let's see you take on Mumm-Ra and then fight for your freedom the next day .
"So what is your name, creature?"
Echo was silent.
She jumped when Omens was impaled in the ground right in front of her. She hadn't even seen the Duelist move. She stared at the blade in surprise. She could see her reflection there, a little scuffed around the edges, her eyes bloodshot.
"What is this connection you have to this sword? It responds to you. You're a part of it. Even I can see that."
"I don't know." She offered honestly. Her throat was hoarse and her voice was rough. The very sound of it made her wince.
A hand tangled itself into her hair painfully, pulling her neck back. She hissed and cracked open her eyes to see the Duelist leaning down, bloody red eyes staring into her own.
"There are ways of getting you to do what I want, creature," He said, quite calmly, into her ear, "And if you don't do what I want. . . trouble may happen to you."
He pulled, and Echo wasn't ashamed to say she let out a small yelp of pain - but something gave on her head, and the pressure fell away. It didn't register, not at first, why her hair suddenly fell down into her face around her shoulders in long sheets of white, but her eyes widened as she jumped up.
She knew what he'd taken.
Sunda's hairband!
Echo watched, shock paralyzing her, as he walked over to the fire.
And without any qualms, tossed it in.
Horror coursed through her as the hairband ignited, flames licking around the delicate ribbon - and she scrambled forward to get it. No, no, no, no! She fell on her knees before the fireplace, and even though the heat of the coals burned her hands, she forced herself to reach in the flames and grab at it.
She just barely managed to save the scrap before the rest of it turned into ashes.
"I know when things are important to people," The Duelist said, matter-of-factly, "You stroke the ends of it when you're nervous. You constantly touch it to reassure yourself that it's there, and that scrap of fabric was one of the most well-kept pieces of clothing I've ever seen. So, consider its incineration punishment for ignoring me, and attempting to run away. A word to the wise, creature: don't disobey me again."
Echo just. . . she just sat there.
She didn't care as he walked away. She could barely hear him.
Sunda's memory. . .
Echo began to cry, holding the singed, tattered remains in her burned hands. It was hardly more than a bookmark now. She cried quietly, entire chest heaving as she folded in on herself in an effort to keep the pain continued.
In her mind, she could see images of her once-beloved friend being devoured by flames.
Echo sat there, still and quiet as the grave.
The Duelist sat next to her, and currently, the pair were located on the outside deck of a tavern. Echo let her eyes sluggishly take in the small plate of food before her. The Duelist wasn't starving her, which felt kind of odd. Weren't slaves supposed to be mistreated?
I already was. A lot. Emotionally.
She looked away from the food and back down to her hands. She was hardly in any mood to eat as it was. She could feel her journal pressing against her chest, and inside of it, Sunda's hairband was carefully tucked into the pages. She wasn't going to risk anything. Not anymore - she just didn't have the will for it at the moment.
The Book had denied her. She had been bartered into slavery, and now, last remaining fragment of Sunda's memory was nothing more than a charred scrap of fabric, and her only hope at reclaiming her lost memories had been ripped away from her.
She barely had enough to remember the cleric as it was, and now his only gift to her had been nearly burned.
"How'd it get that hair color, eh?" One of the animals asked.
The Duelist chuckled.
"Quite natural, I'm afraid. I have inclinations to believe she's an albino."
Echo remained quiet and instead traced the burns on her hands with her eyes. She was forced to sit lower than him (which, she assumed, was a way to restate the power balance between them), and he had told her that she was never to speak unless spoken to, or given permission.
She was so depressed, she merely agreed meekly.
This life was quickly setting out to kick her to pieces while she was down.
Echo watched the Duelist out of the corner of her eye. He had a tendency for showing off, and he was doing one such display then. Using a small knife, he picked up a lemon and sliced the pieces. He flicked his wrist, directing the lemon to fall into his companion's cups of tea. Not a single drop of the tea splattered on the table, his demonstration was that neat.
One slice of lemon, however, flopped onto the tabletop.
Cut neatly into quarters.
"You might recognize the craftsmanship."
She flicked her eyes up.
Lion-O.
A rush of hope washed through her as she looked up through a curtain of white hair. Her cheeks were flushed from crying, and she'd only just managed to stop an hour or two ago.
"Echo! Are you okay? What happened?" He asked, alarm on his face.
"I-"
A sword tip pressed against her side in warning. She fell quiet.
"Remember my warning, Echo. . . and that sword is impossible. It's a fake - he hasn't made a sword in years."
"I came out of retirement," Drifter said, emerging from an adjacent hallway and leaning against the wall, "I didn't have much to do today, anyway."
"I challenge you to a rematch," Lion-O issued, "But this time, for all your swords."
"That's quite a request from someone who only has a single sword to offer in return. In addition to your blade, you must also put up your life."
Without a beat of hesitation, Lion-O affirmed. "Deal."
He looked at her, confidence in his eyes, and with a tiny, reassuring smile on his lips.
Don't worry, he seemed to communicate, I promise I'll make this right.
You put me in this position. You did this, she thought sadly.
The Duelist stood, grabbing her arm and forcing her to do the same. He walked her back out into the same pavilion Lion-O had lost in, in front of a sizable crowd that was growing. His posse stood just off to the side, smug smiles on their faces. Echo stood beside the Duelist as he went about finishing adjusting his gloves. Across the way, Lion-O leveled a fierce glare at him.
"If you've hurt her, so help me-"
"Relax, lion," The Duelist said, interrupting him, "I merely taught her her place in this world. Now come. Bless this sword for me."
He drew Omens and held it out in front of him. It was wrong. It felt so wrong. Omens didn't belong in his hands. Echo stared, hesitating, eyes flickering before Lion-O and the Duelist.
But. . .
The ember of Sunda's hairband pressed against her chest, and the heavy collar weighed her neck down.
Echo leaned forward to give the sword a feather light peck, but it was all Omens needed. The Eye flashed, and the Duelist grinned.
With a flourish, he sheathed the sword, and Echo heard Lion-O growl. He just did it to make you angry. Please don't let that cloud your judgement.
And then, suddenly, the duel was on.
Echo stood there, not running away - she was too tired. The inside of her was so conflicted. If Lion-O won his rematch. . . how could she trust him again? She felt so betrayed - and she was right to. Her friend, her best friend, had wagered her up like she was nothing more than object to him. Isn't that what I was from the start, though? Nothing more than a curiosity?
It had been their differences that had defined their friendship.
He hadn't even hesitated. . .
Echo watched the duel numbly. She couldn't hear half of what they were saying, and she supposed that was okay. She could hardly even hear the swords ringing as they struck one another fiercely.
When I first came to Thundera, you were my first friend. I was terrified of being alone. You were there for me, every step of the way. You helped me get over my stutter. You stayed awake with me and helped me think of ways to get my memory back.
And somewhere along the line, I think I started to love you, too. I thought I'd repay the favor when Thundera fell, because you'd done so much for me. But after this. . .
It almost brought on a fresh wave of tears.
. . . after this, Lion-O, I don't think I can trust you.
"Now Missy, that's not a face a pretty girl like you should be making."
She turned her head and saw Drifter standing right beside her, an easy smile on his face.
"Hattanzo." She said in greeting. Her voice was thick.
"Aw, Missy, c'mon. Let's cheer you up - after all. . . you're free now."
The roar of the crowd split the air a moment later, and she jumped, startled. She whirled around, looking for the victor - and found Lion-O, proudly standing. Echo heaved a heavy sigh of relief she hadn't known she'd been holding. Broken trust or not, Echo knew she'd still care for Lion-O. And seeing him dead was something she didn't want.
"Let's get that collar off you, Missy!"
"But how?" She asked, turning back to Drifter.
The rabbit smiled as he picked out the willow switch in his mouth, and with a light tap, hit it against the collar on her neck. Miraculously, she heard something inside of it snap, and in another moment, it fell off her neck with a noisy clatter. A surge of adrenaline pulsed in her blood, and another reality began to set it.
She was free!
She heard Lion-O's distinctive footsteps, and Lion-O stopped in front of her, looking just as relieved as she felt.
"Echo. . . I'm so-"
Before she knew exactly what she was doing, she launched herself into his arms and wrapped him up in the tightest hug she could manage.
Why is it the ones we love are the ones that hurt us the most?
He wrapped his arms around her too, and held her.
Echo was shaking, fighting back tears.
"I'm so glad you're okay."
. . . if only you knew, Lion-O.
Just how horrible it all is right now.
Echo held him, refusing to let him go, even though her hands were shaking. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to cry and she wanted to hit him. He didn't know. Lion-O didn't know.
A pair of arms roughly shoved them aside, breaking their moment.
Lion-O shifted, rolling with it, and Echo sprawled on the ground ungracefully. She watched a confusing blur of movements as Hattanzo ran forward, willow switch in his hands. A small dagger hit the ground, falling from the Duelist's hands.
"You've had your last duel. Begone!"
Comically, Drifter swirled the willow switch in the Duelist's nose. The swordsman turned an unhealthy shade of red, but he turned around and sprinted, the laughter of the crowd hot on his heels.
Echo picked herself off the ground gingerly, brushing the dirt off of her knees.
That was honestly one of the last things she remembered from the square. The world and time slipped away from her, although she vaguely recalled walking through the city with Lion-O and Hattanzo. Somewhere along the exchange, the rabbit had given her her swords back, and she'd secured the harness on herself.
The sun was setting as they left the town gates, and Hattanzo stood before them, the Duelist's gaudy scabbard strapped to his back.
"Thank you," Lion-O said to the Drifter, "For everything."
"No, Lion-O. Thank you. I haven't felt this alive in years. I finally have a purpose again - returning these swords to their rightful owners."
Echo watched as he turned off, walking away into the sunset.
They waved goodbye, even though he couldn't see them, and began to set off themselves. Snarf ran by their feet, although he made sure to almost trip Echo as he wound around her ankles like a cat. He mewled up at her happily, glad to see her back. Echo reached down long enough to scratch his back, and Snarf gave a happy chirp.
"He didn't hurt you, did he?" Lion-O asked, voice calm.
If she said yes, Echo knew, a tempest would be unleashed. Probably the likes of something she'd never seen before, to boot.
"No," She replied, "It looks worse than it is."
Her neck was a little bruised, but she'd just flip up the collar of her shirt a little more, intent on hiding the damage from the rest of the Cats. Lion-O had bought her a salve for her hands, and it was working wonders. Imbued with magic, the red welts and blisters were already disappearing. They'd likely be gone by the time they got back to camp.
As they were walking, Lion-O reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Close your eyes." He said.
"What?"
"Just do it."
Echo was confused, but she did.
She felt Lion-O come to stand around behind her, and another moment later, her hair was swept back, and she heard something being tied. She opened her eyes with a snap and stared at the end of a new ribbon dangling from her hair. Another hair band. A different one. It wasn't the same gesture Sunda has showed her, but. . .
"I can't even guess what happened. . . I'm sorry, Echo. I really am. I shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place."
Echo looked at the lion.
I know I was wrong to start thinking about you that way. We're too different. There's no way that relationship could work between us. But. . . but even with what happened today, I still want to be friends. I don't want to be alone.
Lion-O and the ThunderCats were all she had left.
She shook her head and smiled tenderly.
"It's alright. What's done is done. I'm just glad we're both here."
They started walking again, and a comfortable pause spread between them.
Echo looked at Lion-O out of the corner of her eye.
"So. . . What. . . did you see? In the Book, I mean."
His expression lit up, and within moments, Lion-O launched into a very detailed, very thorough recounting of just what the Book had shown him. Echo listened, delighted and depressed at the same time, but it meant a lot to Lion-O.
I promised to stay until the end. So I will.
Time slipped away from her again, and before they knew it, the Thunder Tank was looming into view, the Cats scattered around it.
"What in the name of Thundera took you so blasted long?" Panthro growled.
Echo grinned. She couldn't believe she welcomed the snappy sound of the grumpy general.
"I was, uhm. . . uh. . ." Lion-O stuttered.
"Off enjoying the breeze while we do all the hard work." Tygra reprimanded.
Yup.
She missed that.
Lion-O stood there, looking dumbfounded as to what to say.
"Nothing much. Bartered my friend's freedom and the Sword of Omens. Lost. Wagered my life, won it all back. The usual."
Yes, that would go over so well.
"Something like that." Echo replied, stepping forward.
She'd save Lion-O, just this once.