Chapter 7: Ain't That a Kick in the Head
The rest of the day went by quickly. Mojave easily took the lead in the discussion with Trevenant and Ponyta, seeming to know more about the potential route than they did. Typhon was fine to let him deal with the couriers, it wasn't like he would have anything valuable to add.
On the rare occasion they asked him anything, he just absently waved them off with a "Yeah, sure," or something similar. While they might have thought that he was zoned out or maybe even sleeping with his eyes open, that couldn't have been further from the truth.
Before Team Dune and the couriers was a large table, easily the single biggest thing Typhon had ever seen that wasn't a building or natural landmark. Its sheer size was enough to warrant his undivided attention, even without the map that was sprawled over it.
And that map was truly something else. Typhon had seen murals painted on some of the walls of Korb Town, but this was on a completely different level. It covered nearly the entire table and was drawn to a level of detail that Typhon didn't even think was possible.
His gaze was first drawn to the Attaman Desert, which constituted a rather long peninsula that struck out of the northwestern corner of the continent, the Lambent Region, which the map so extravagantly and artistically provided in the center of of its northern edge. The desert's eastern part was colored with warm oranges and reds, perfectly representing the rocky landscape surrounding Korb Town, which was handsomely drawn as well, with smooth white and yellow buildings shining out against the landscape.
As Typhon ventured west, the rocks gave way to a sea of yellow sand dunes that represented the remainder of the desert until they flattened out towards the other end. He saw Nillsville plotted just barely inside the yellow, but as a mere dot. Further examination revealed that every other city in the desert was represented this way, from the clusters of settlements near Korb Town to the sporadic villages further west.
As much as Typhon would have liked to look at the rest of the continent, he unfortunately mismanaged his time. The moment he satisfied himself with the desert, Mojave was already pulling him away from the table. Ah- well, I'll get another chance, he tried to console himself.
The pair spent the rest of the day exploring the city and showing Typhon Mojave's favorite parts. Typhon liked in particular a statue they came across that was said to represent a legendary hero of the Attaman. Defender of the Desert, it was called. The hero's name and species were lost to time, so in their place was a myriad of different Pokémon of all kinds, posed around in a circle. Most interesting was that none of the Pokémon were species native to the desert, or even any kind that could be loosely stretched to fit. There was something about that part that Typhon couldn't let go of. When he slept that night, he found himself dreaming about what Pokémon it was that deserved the statue.
While he was deep in his pondering, Mojave eagerly prodded him awake, causing his theories to dissolve away. "Hey!" Poke. "Wake up!" Poke.
"I'm up, I'm up…" Typhon slurred. "Ugh, I don't feel so good… What time is it?"
"Time to get to work!" Mojave said. "I don't actually own a clock, but I've got the time to wake up internalized. Do you want something for your sleepiness? I don't like seeing you like this, but it's for the best. Trust me, you'll get used to it eventually."
One chesto berry and a light breakfast later, the team made their way to the city square, ready to get to work. This time, Mojave was adamant that they would do something nice and simple. Something that would have no chance of resulting in anything out of the ordinary. He said that it was important for Typhon to know what protectors normally did, but the gible could tell that there was more to it.
The streets were once again dead and empty, a stark contrast to the vibrance that whirled around them just the day before. They didn't come across any other Pokémon until they reached the Jobs Board, where Katelyn was standing on a stepping stool, still struggling to post the day's notices.
One of the buneary's paws was on her chin and her face was twisted in contemplation, trying to determine where each page should go.
"Hey Katelyn!" Typhon said. "Anything good today?"
"Preferably something more… standard this time, please." Mojave's gaze was already on the Board, and it probably wouldn't have been wrong to say that he was more invested in it than Katelyn was.
"Hey! It's you two!" Katelyn turned to look at the team, a great smile gracing her face. "I missed you yesterday. My source said she had good news coming along, and I think I have you two to thank!"
"Please, don't mention it," Mojave said. "No, really. Please don't. I could live a happy life if I never got involved with something like that ever again."
Typhon laughed. "Don't worry about him, we've just got a lot on our plate. Though, for his sake, anything simple today?" He didn't doubt the odds of finding something perfectly generic today. It wasn't like every Pokémon in Korb Town needed help settling geopolitical affairs.
"Well, about that…" Katelyn began. "Turns out, someone has a job and they want you two specifically."
"What?" Mojave asked. "What do you mean they want us? Korb Town's a big place! They probably meant someone else."
Katelyn frowned. "Hey! If you're so unsure about it, just ask the client. He's right over there." She pointed over to one of the pillars holding the roof above them. True to her word, a small, cloaked figure was sitting against it.
They looked to be about the same size as either Typhon or Mojave, but Typhon guessed he was smaller. The cloak they wore was thin and light brown, and covered every inch of their body. The cloak's hood similarly covered their head and worked with the early morning's darkness to totally conceal their face. Typhon could barely see something white poke out of the shadow. As it was, there was no way to know what they were.
The figure seemed to have missed Katelyn's cue, so she tried again. "Sir, are you awake? Sir? The team you asked about is here."
They startled awake. "Oh! Yes, my apologies. I suppose I should stop working so late, but a job like mine? I wouldn't trade it for anything."
A small yellow arm of his, crisscrossed with square scales, emerged from his cloak and pulled the hood back. For the briefest of moments, Typhon was blinded as a sudden glare from what used to be under the hood struck his eyes. A moment later, Typhon could see that the figure was wearing a beautiful silver mask, detailed intricately with vines. The mask covered almost all of their face but the eyes, which were two inky voids set against the clean white of the mask.
"Salutations," they said, their voice bright and chipper. Typhon was offput by how alive they sounded this early in the day. "Now, I have heard that protectors prefer to use species names, so you may call me Sandshrew. I trust that you are Team Dune?"
"Uh, yes!" Mojave stammered. "That's- that's true. What do you need? And, um, why us?"
Sandshrew chuckled to himself. "Oh, nothing much. Just a simple escort mission. For protectors of your caliber, nothing you shouldn't be able to handle." Something about the way Sandshrew spoke unsettled Typhon. His ego was happy to be praised, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to his words.
"And as for why you two," he continued, "I've heard wonderful things about you, and that you're Pokémon that can get a job done, right, Miss Buneary?" Katelyn blushed at being called a miss.
She then caught herself and scowled. "Really? Even after how one-sided our conversation was, you hardly listened when I got to talk? Trapinch, maybe I should find you something else."
Sandshrew was quick to reply. "Oh, my apologies! I understand that you revealed little about these two, but the way you spoke! I could tell there was much praise left unsaid."
"Wait," Typhon said. "What were you talking about us for?" He wasn't quite sure how he felt about being gossiped over, even if it sounded positive.
"Nothing! Really!" Katelyn responded. "He just asked if I knew any good teams, and I told him you did a good job the other day."
"Oh. Thank you." Typhon repressed his embarrassment, as miniscule as it was.
"Yes, I can vouch for our reporter friend here," Sandshrew said. "With someone like her running the news, you can trust every word she says to be true. And quite interesting too! We had such a lovely discussion earlier." He sighed. "But, yes. I have heard that you two are excellent in a fight, and I would like those skills today. Would you hear me out?"
Typhon looked expectedly at Mojave.
Mojave nodded his head. "Yes. Team Dune will listen to your request, Sandshrew. You said you needed an… escort, right? Where to?"
"I require passage through the Cayenne Canyon mystery dungeon," he said. "I have friends waiting for me at the other side who will accompany me afterwards. Reaching the canyon and making my way through are all I need."
Typhon's mind raced at the name of the dungeon. Cayenne Canyon, Cayenne Canyon… did I see that earlier? Somewhere… west of here, right? And… north? Hmm. Didn't see much else around it though…
It looked as though Mojave was going through a similar thought process. If he had any doubts about the job, he didn't say them. "Okay… we can do that. If memory serves me right, there are plenty of Fire types there, right? Nothing three Ground types can't handle." He cleared his throat and put on his protector voice. "Sandshrew, Gible and I would be happy to take your request."
"Excellent!" Sandshrew clapped his paws together. "Let us set out at once!"
Team Dune and Sandshrew hadn't even reached the entrance to the dungeon after what was Typhon's longest trek yet. They stopped at a ridge with a clear view of Nillsville to rest along the way. While they didn't pass near the city, Typhon could clearly see it in the distance, its smoldering ruins flaring out against the ever so slightly brightening skyline. New to the picture were clusters of tents set up around the outskirts of the city.
"Simply dreadful, don't you think?" Sandshrew said, his gaze affixed to the city. "The Nomads are long gone and Alexander's already taken what's left, but the fires are still burning. He had better know what he's doing."
"Come again?" Typhon asked. Sandshrew's comment sounded dangerously in the warlord's favor.
"Oh, I don't mean it like that. It's just odd that someone so determined to conquer the desert would make it so hard to rule afterward, don't you think?" He sighed. "Sights like this will be fresh in everyone's mind. Pokémon won't accept his rule for quite some time."
"Would that really matter, though?" Mojave chimed in. "I know I don't know much, but it seems to me he's fine using force now, so why wouldn't he be later? If Pokémon don't like what Alexander does, I don't think we'll have much of a choice."
Sandshrew began to speak, but caught himself. "You know, that reminds me of something I've heard. Tell me, are either of you two caught up on the rumor mill?"
"No," they both responded.
Sandshrew tapped his foot on the ground. "Now, this is just a rumor, but I've heard that Alexander might not be top arcanine."
Mojave and Typhon both turned to him in confusion.
"Er, you know? He's not actually the head Pokémon in charge. He has a master behind him, telling him what to do."
"Ohhh," Mojave said. "Now I get it. You just got the saying wrong. You mean to say he's not top rockruff, right?"
"Rockruff? Why would the expression use rockruff?" Typhon couldn't see Sandshrew's face at all, but even so, from his voice and body language alone he could tell that Sandshrew had never heard something more confusing. "Rockruff aren't at all intimidating. When I think of a leader, they don't come to mind first. Who would use them as such an example?" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter, I suppose."
Sandshrew cleared his throat. "Anyway, like I meant, Alexander isn't the one calling the shots. You know thatphrase, right? There's someone above him telling him what to do. He's more of a general than he is a warlord. Interesting idea, don't you think?"
Mojave hummed to himself. "That would explain how fast he's been moving, wouldn't it? He wouldn't have to slow down his conquests and worry about managing it all if there was someone else doing it. What kind of Pokémon do you think he is?"
"What?" Typhon asked.
"I mean, if Alexander's as bad as… that," he gestured to the ruined city ahead of them, "how bad could the Pokémon who ordered him to do that be?"
"Oh, that's easy," Typhon said. "If he can just sit back and let cities burn to the ground, just imagine what else he's okay with. If he's not outright evil, he at least doesn't deserve his job if he'd let his subjects suffer like that." Typhon shook his head. "I don't even know if the guy's real and I already hate him. Hey, Sandshrew, where'd you hear this from, anyway?"
"Oh, from Buneary earlier this morning," he said. "She really has such a knack for journalism, don't you think? I picked up a copy of her most recent edition the other day, and she really knows her stuff. Have you read it?"
"No, not really," Typhon said. "We were busy that day. Saw the headline though, 'Nillsville in Flames' I think it was. She got shut down by the mayor pretty fast."
"Rings," Sandshrew mumbled under his breath, with a surprising degree of animosity. There was enough venom in that name alone to poison a drapion. "Oh, excuse me," he said. "I have some… opinions about that ambipom."
He abruptly stood up and clapped his paws. "Well, I think we've rested long enough, haven't we? We haven't even reached the dungeon yet!"
Mojave stumbled to his feet. "Woah, okay! Um, did you want to talk about the mayor? On the move, maybe?"
"Oh, no." Sandshrew shook his head. "I've had enough talk about politics and rumor for one morning, no offense to your conversational skills. Besides, I find that silence is best for taking in the desert. Are we ready?"
Neither Typhon or Mojave had anything left to add, so they moved on, further into the desert and away from anything Typhon knew. As they ventured on, the Sun rose higher into the sky and beat down on them more and more, the heat soaring around them.
Mojave and Sandshrew obviously had nothing to worry about, and Typhon certainly wasn't complaining. He had no trouble with the heat, but he felt that it was bordering on the edges of his comfort zone. But really, they should have asked Sandshrew if he was alright. Desert native or not, there was no way that his mask was still comfortable on him. Traveling out in the open with nothing to shield it, Typhon was surprised that the thing hadn't started melting yet.
If Typhon had to guess, it was maybe around midafternoon when they finally arrived at the dungeon's entrance. His feet were sore and thirst was creeping up on him, but he stayed quiet.
The dungeon's entrance was nothing more than a crude hole gouged into a ridge. Its edges were scorched and blackened, and hasty warnings to stay away were scrawled around it in red. Just like the entrance to Groudon's Gift, the hole was impossibly dark, and a burst of dragon-flame did nothing to illuminate it.
With infectious enthusiasm, Sandshrew clapped for Typhon. "Bravo! In all my life, I've seen more than my fair share of fire, but dragon-flame from a true Dragon? Not something you see often around here."
"It's really nothing much," Typhon replied. "Just wait till I actually use it in a fight." While he was certainly not going to let the opportunity to stroke his ego pass him, it was a bit odd to be praised for something so minor. Wow, the fire was blue! How amazing.
"Right," Mojave said, taking on a stern voice. "Try not to rely on that too much, Gible. We're already a bit fatigued from the journey over here, and I want to endanger Sandshrew as little as possible. Sticking to our Ground type moves to make fights go by quickly will be important." Typhon was hurt by not being called his real name, but didn't press the issue.
"Don't worry about me too much," Sandshrew said. "I'm more resilient than you might think, but your concern is appreciated." He looked down to his feet, hidden under his cloak. "I'm not the best fighter, though, so do keep that in mind."
They went into the dungeon with Mojave taking the lead, Sandshrew in the middle, and Typhon bringing up the rear. This way, Sandshrew would be theoretically protected from the brunt of an attack from any angle but above.
The dungeon's interior was that of a slot canyon, with smooth and curved walls rising far and away above them. The walls rose so high that their shadows were always cast over the entirety of the canyon's floor, and Typhon guessed that even if the Sun were directly overhead it wouldn't have changed anything.
Initially, the team's progress went by smoothly. They hadn't even encountered any ferals until floor two, which was when things took a turn for the worse. They entered a room and came face to face with a family of torkoal who coughed up enough smoke to fill an entire city block.
After getting over the initial surprise, Team Dune managed to defeat them with minor difficulty. Typhon's eyes stung and his lungs burned, but a few good Sand Tombs managed to incapacitate the torkoal and carry the smoke away.
As the room cleared, Typhon saw the stairs sitting innocently in the corner, their upward steps enviously unblemished by the smoke. "Hey, Mojave," he choked out, "can we take a breather?" Typhon felt like he was fighting for his life with every breath.
Mojave let out a coughing fit. "Yeah, that sounds good to me," he finally managed. "Is that alright with you, Sandshrew?" He coughed a bit more.
"Oh, of course!" he said, perfectly fine. From the way it looked, the only thing that seemed wrong with him was the copious amount of soot that covered his mask and stained the edges of his cloak. His body didn't appear to be harmed in any way, and he certainly wasn't fighting for every pawful of air that he breathed.
"Mojave, you and Gible are absolutely vital to today. Your needs are as important as mine. We can proceed when you're ready." He reached into his cloak and pulled out an oran berry that he tossed to Mojave, before throwing another one to Typhon, both times with perfect accuracy.
"Thank you." Mojave ate the berry in a single gulp. "Though, please, Trapinch is fine." He sat down, or at least did whatever counted as sitting for him.
Typhon walked over from his part of the room and Sandshrew did the same, until all of them were in a circle by the stairs. A bit of an awkward silence fell upon them, with Typhon unnerved by Sandshrew. He tried looking him in the eye, but the intensity of Sandshrew's eyes while at rest was too much for him. The thought of what he looked like when angry or without the mask made him shudder.
"So, what's with the mask?" he tried. If it was going to bother him, he wanted to know what it was for.
"Oh, this old thing?" Sandshrew started. "It's a gift from a friend of mine. She's really quite sweet. She found me at a… low point in my life, and gifted it to me as a symbol of our friendship." He moved a paw to begin wiping away some of the soot. "It's my most prized possession, and I make a point to always wear it, even if it gets a bit…"
"Hot? Uncomfortably so?" Typhon filled in.
"Well," Sandshrew laughed, "you're not wrong there. I don't mean to brag, but it is pure silver, which makes it excellent at conducting heat. Still though, it means too much to me to part with it, even temporarily."
"Um, do you ever feel… scared, wearing it?" Mojave asked. "I mean, Pokémon can be downright nasty, and wearing such a visible and undoubtedly valuable thing attracts unwanted attention, right?"
Sandshrew put a paw to his chin before answering. "Interesting. I've never really felt threatened, at least not back home. Where have you encountered such things?"
"I… Um… Well… other Pokémon told me, I guess?" Mojave tried. "When I first came over, I was told a lot to be careful wherever I went, and the streets of Korb Town just have this… feeling to them, you know?"
"Hmm. No, I don't know." Sandshrew shook his head. "This past day or so has been my first time in town for a long time, and business only, at that. Would you elaborate for me?"
"Sure, I guess, if it helps. For Korb Town anyway, the streets are just so narrow and are always so packed, it'd be easy for someone to get the better of you and you'd never know." He shuddered. "The vendors can be the worst, too. I try to do as much of my shopping at once, so that I don't have to deal with them that often."
Sandshrew nodded. "And you, Gible, what do you think?"
Typhon just shrugged. "I'm new in town too. I haven't had as much of a chance to experience Korb Town for myself."
Sandshrew's head perked up at hearing that. "Oh? Really? Then where are you from? Out west? One of the communities in the Great Mountains?"
Uh oh. What should he say? That he was an amnesiac? He hardly wanted to admit that to himself, no way would he tell it to someone he'd probably never see again. But on the other claw, Mojave would disapprove of him telling a lie, especially to someone who had been pretty decent to them.
"I uh… don't remember," he tried. Technically true, and it also gave him more time to think of something while Sandshrew responded.
"Excuse me? I don't mean to be rude, but how do you not remember?" There was a tinge of suspicion in his voice that worried Typhon. "I've been all over the desert, west and east, and every place I've been to has had some sense of stubborn, communal pride in itself. I just find it unlikely a Pokémon could ever forget something like that."
"Well, I…" he began. Come on, think of something! "…It's really more that I don't want to remember." Yeah, that could work. "I don't have many good memories, and I don't like dwelling on the past. I've sort of… repressed most of it."
"Oh. I see." Come on, just take it. "Well, that's not an uncommon attitude, much as I hate to say. The desert takes its toll on everyone, whether we know it or not. But for it to result in something like you describe… ugh." He noticeably shuddered. "You have my condolences."
Yeah, I'll make sure to tell Mesprit that. Typhon tried to play it cool. "Well, it is what it is, you know? And besides, I met Mojave not so long ago, and everything's only gone up from there."
Mojave fought hard to hide a smile, but Typhon could see him blushing. "Well, you're pretty great yourself, Gible." He cleared his throat. "But I think we've rested long enough, if that's okay with you, Sandshrew. I don't want to keep your friends waiting, and we've just started the dungeon. You ready?"
"Oh, yes, very nearly." He remained seated. "One more minute, if we can. This conversation is proving to be just as interesting as the one I had with Miss Buneary. Just one question, same as I asked her. What do you think of the future?" he asked abruptly.
"What?" Team Dune said simultaneously. Like, Typhon's future? Mojave's future? How the rest of the job would play out? The future of the world? There were a lot of futures at stake.
"The war. Alexander and his legions. Whoever it is that may or may not be Alexander's master," he clarified, only further bewildering the two. "It's readily apparent that independent or not, Alexander is mere days away from Korb Town, the last major city not yet his. In fact, on your way home from this very job you might stumble onto his camp, already preparing the siege." These images did not play well in Typhon's mind.
"Sooner or later," Sandshrew continued, "the war will be over, and there's a very real chance it ends in Alexander's victory." He finally stood up and leveled his head to stare at Typhon, who now found himself unable to break eye contact. "How do you think Korb Town will fare? How will you two as protectors fare?"
"I… I… I don't know," Mojave finally answered. "I guess I just hope that whatever happens, I can continue doing my work. We can continue doing our work." He looked to Typhon. "A situation like that, that's the kind of thing protectors are made for. We'll serve the Pokémon of Korb Town, whatever happens."
Typhon nodded confidently. "I'm with him. Whatever happens, happens, and Team Dune will be wherever we're needed."
Sandshrew clapped vigorously, enough for the ends of his cloak to begin kicking up small clouds of sand. "Oh, wonderful! Bravo!" He caught himself. "Sorry, got a bit worked up there. You should know that there is something special about you two. Not many others have the same optimism as you." He dusted off his cloak. "Well, that's all I wanted to know for now. Shall we proceed?"
And so they went, up the stairs and further into the dungeon. With each passing floor the challenge only increased. While in a corridor on floor three they found themselves trapped on both sides by more torkoal. Floor ten seemed to start out fine, with only a single darumaka in the first room they entered. They sent it running away crying but soon encountered it again, with two vengeful darmanitan backing it up.
By the time they reached the final set of stairs on floor fifteen, Team Dune was in a sorry state. Typhon was nursing multiple burns all over his body that screamed at him whenever he so much as walked. He cursed that deceptively nimble and unfairly lucky numel under his breath, lamenting that their last rawst berry got covered in grime. He tried eating it, but the smell alone was enough to dissuade him.
Meanwhile, Mojave's left eye was swollen shut and the rest of his body was badly bruised after a blast trap collapsed part of the canyon wall on him. An oran berry sped up enough of his recovery to keep him moving, but there was some damage that would take more time to heal.
"Alright- we're – here," Mojave said, taking heavy breaths between each word. He promptly dropped to the ground, legs splayed, after approaching the stairs.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Typhon replied, limping along. He fell over and rolled onto his side next to Mojave. "Is this the end of the dungeon already? I coulda sworn we just entered." He bit back pain and rolled onto his other side after one of his burns met the ground.
"Quite the opposite, actually," Sandshrew coolly replied. "Are you okay, Gible? I imagine it's quite easy for you to get hit in the head; did anything hit you too hard back there?"
Compared to his escorts, Sandshrew got off extremely easily. His cloak was torn in a few places at the bottom and had a large scorch mark on the back, but that was about it. From the way he acted, there was nothing to even suggest that Sandshrew was hurt at all, and Typhon couldn't recall a single time that he got hit. He figured that Sandshrew was healthier now than on the day he hatched.
"No, we're all good here, right, Mojave?" He rolled onto another burn and winced.
"The job's still on, please call me Trapinch." Mojave feebly raised himself to his feet. His legs were shaking and his head drooped, but he soldiered on. "I'll be fine after a good night's rest. He turned his good eye to look at Typhon. "Those burns will hopefully be fine then, too."
"Oh, excellent! I'd hate to have put you two through too much harm," Sandshrew said. "Then let's go up the stairs, shall we? My friends should be waiting on the other side." He clapped his paws and made for the stairs. "Oh, they know how hard this dungeon can be. They'll have supplies to spare for your condition, I'm sure." He went up the stairs and disappeared.
"You ready to get paid?" Typhon wearily asked.
"That would be nice." Mojave laughed lightly to himself. "But really, I'm just glad we got him through here. I don't know how he would have managed on his own."
Typhon decided to keep the conversation going. Sure, Sandshrew might get the idea to just leave without paying what he owed, but this moment of rest was reward enough already.
"Good thing we were there, then." Sudden remembrance struck Typhon. "Though, I guess it's also good luck that we happened to be by when Sandshrew wanted us. Do you think it's weird how he had someone in mind that he wanted to hire?"
"Well, not really," Mojave said. It's not uncommon for teams to develop reputations. Pokémon hear that a certain team gets results, and they ask them directly for help. Today was like, a mini version of that." He offered Typhon assistance in standing up.
"No thanks," Typhon said. "I've got it." He pushed himself off the ground and back on his feet, ignoring the pain that flared up in response. "After you."
Mojave hobbled over to the stairs, and Typhon followed him. After taking the first step, the world around him went dark just like it had all the other times in the dungeon. When the world came back, Typhon found that the end of the dungeon was hidden away in some kind of cave.
A low dome surrounded them on all sides, made of similar stone to that of the canyon. The only source of light was a hole in the wall directly ahead, not too different from the dungeon's entrance. All that time in the dimly lit canyon had messed with Typhon's eyes, which made the exit nothing but sheer white and painful to look at.
While examining the cave, Typhon noticed that Sandshrew was nowhere to be seen. "Argh, looks like Sandshrew ran out on us. Just great."
"Hey, let's give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he's just… excited to see his friends, and he's outside with them, waiting for us." Mojave's good eye was peering at the cave exit as if Sandshrew would be right there, wondering where his escorts went.
There was only one way to find out, so Typhon took the plunge. He exited the cave, eyes squinted and shielded from the Sun with one of his claws. Finally feeling the raw power of the Sun after so long temporarily blinded him, and he was left standing at the cave's mouth staring into the desert, seeing nothing.
He blinked once, then twice, and his eyes finally adjusted. The cave led out to a rocky pass, much wider and more rugged than the dungeon. Thin trees and small shrubs clung to the walls, and rubble littered the ground beneath them.
A large group of Pokémon was lined up side to side in the pass, totally blocking the way through. Sandshrew was with them and prominently in the front, looking as cool as ever.
Typhon relaxed upon seeing him, content in the fact that Sandshrew didn't run away and was with his friends. This was shattered the moment Typhon saw the houndoom standing next to him. The houndoom with his left horn broken at the middle. The houndoom with billowing clouds of smoke pouring out of his nostrils. The houndoom with grievous wounds around his neck, still fresh and bleeding. The houndoom that was Lieutenant Domino, Alexander's second-in-command, and the Pokémon with the most reasons to hate Team Dune. And he was standing next to Sandshrew.
"Mojave get out here! It's Domin-"
Sandshrew cut him off. "Please, Gible, that won't be necessary. I assume you've met my associate?" He was calm and collected, and seemed totally unaware of who exactly he was standing with.
Typhon wanted to scream, to yell, to do something, but found himself completely unable to. The most odd and disgusting feeling came over him, as if someone had taken his skull and ran it under cold water. There was a prickling feeling in the back of his mind that connected this to Mesprit and her dream, but Typhon couldn't figure out why, nor did he care at the moment.
Instead, his mouth forced itself open, all at once he spoke completely willingly yet also fought to shut himself up with every word. "Yes. You could say we've met before."
Sandshrew clapped his paws. "Excellent. Oh, but where is Mojave? He should come out too. We can't have our discussion without him."
Mojave limped out of the cave, his head lowered away from the Sun. "What? Sandshrew, what's going on out here?" Realization struck him a moment later. "D-Domino?! What's- What's he doing here?! S-Sandshrew, get away!"
He was waved off. "Please, Mojave, there's nothing to be concerned about. But, I understand you may be distressed by his presence. Domino, please return to Alexander, I can take care of this myself."
"My liege, you are making a mistake," Domino said, completely subdued. The fire within him just the other day was gone. "These two are enemies of the state, and are known associates of traitors. We should put them down and be done with it." He spoke aside to Sandshrew, as if Team Dune couldn't hear him.
"Now, now, Domino, I gave you an order."
The houndoom flinched. "My apologies, sir." He saluted and then departed further into the pass, where the soldiers immediately cleared the way for him.
"I apologize for his behavior, his dedication spills over into fanaticism, but he truly means well." Sandshrew straightened out his cloak. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Sandshrew Aurelian, First Citizen of the Attaman Republic." He shook himself out. "Words cannot describe how pleased I am to finally speak to you."
Typhon scoffed. He wanted to rebuke him in some way, but Mojave spoke first. "W-what? Sandshrew, I don't… I don't understand. What's going on here?"
"Shocked? I suppose that's only reasonable." Sandshrew – Aurelian, now – cleared his throat. "If it wasn't clear yet, I am Alexander's master, the Pokémon we discussed earlier. When his legionaries go into battle, they fight for me. I apologize for my deception today, but this was the only way I could make sure you were who I thought you were – an interview of sorts - given the circumstances."
"That's… wow. I… I don't know what to say," Mojave said. He rubbed his swollen eye.
"There is much I want to discuss, but first-" he clapped his paws. "Are the salves I asked for ready? And what of the rawst berries?"
A green Pokémon that Typhon couldn't quite recognize stepped out from behind the line and quickly gave the medicine to Aurelian, before hastily hiding away again. Aurelian brought it all to Team Dune himself, and the soldiers slowly advanced behind him.
Mojave accepted the gift by barely whispering a "thank you," while Typhon crushed the berries in his claws before throwing them at the line. "I think I'll manage." Some of the juice worked its magic where it landed on him, but that only worsened his mood. If there was anyone's charity he wanted, it certainly was not Aurelian's.
"Very well." Aurelian stepped back towards his line and picked up one of the berries, inspecting it closely. He dropped it without a second thought. "Impressive throw, even in your current condition."
"Shut up! We're not friends, Sandshrew. I don't care if you're complimenting me, I don't want to hear it!"
"Please, Gible, be still a moment." That sickening, watery feeling washed over him again. "I know that you are extremely confused and don't like me, so let me explain why we went through all this. The end of the war is coming soon, and when I win, I want Pokémon of the highest caliber to be firmly with me in my rebuilding efforts. I believe Team Dune will be instrumental to this end."
Typhon spat at the ground. "So, what? You want to recruit us like your lackey tried in the mine? I don't know if you know this, but we saw what your Republic is capable of. I want no part in it." He looked to Mojave, expectantly.
Mojave returned his gaze, much less confidently. "I… I don't know Typhon. Maybe… maybe he has a point…"
"What? Mojave, how could you say that?" Typhon stamped his foot. "Sandshrew's the reason Nillsville is destroyed! It's 'cause of him that Alexander has been storming his way across the desert! How could you possibly side with him?!"
"I know, I know! I'm not saying I'm on his side! But, it's just…" His gaze dropped to the ground. "Argh! On the one hand, this would be the first time any part of the Lambent Region reunified. You don't know how significant that is! We have to make sure it goes well! But then, you're right, Typhon. You're completely and totally right." Mojave stared directly at Aurelian. "Sandshrew, you're responsible for some- some terrible things! Even if only a fraction of what I've heard is right. I don't know how I could live with myself if we accepted." He stared back at the ground. "And on the other hand, Team Dune doesn't belong here. What you're proposing, Sandshrew, is far and away above Team Dune. This isn't the kind of job we can accept. I mean, what would you even have us do?"
"It's simple. Leave the Association behind, and continue doing the same kind of work." Typhon could hear Mojave gasp. "We'll create something new, an association of the Attaman's making, more capable of providing for the desert than anything before it. I saw the Jobs Board in Korb Town. We could prevent boards across the desert from accumulating a fraction of the amount of jobs posted there. Your team has the potential to make that possible, I know it."
"I- Argh! I don't know!" Mojave shouted. "What you're saying sounds promising, but I can't! I swore an oath! I've dedicated my life to the Association, I can't just go back on that!"
Aurelian solemnly nodded his head. "I understand what it's like to dedicate yourself to something like that." He touched his mask. "But we can't rely on the Association anymore. Its model is failing the Attaman. As it stands, there are pawfuls of protectors scattered across the desert, barely capable of holding their own. And if what I've heard is true, for the first time in a century the Association is returning in force, and for what? A research project? I fail to see how that protects anyone."
Mojave took a step back. "The Association can change, and- and improve! It's done it before, I know it has! Just give it some time, you'll see!"
Aurelian sighed. "We don't have time, Mojave. I have plans already in motion that can't wait a moment longer. Say I let you go, and the war reaches Korb Town. What happens if something goes wrong and you two are killed in the fighting? The most promising Pokémon in the desert, gone like that."
Behind his mask, his eyes seemed to sparkle for a moment, like a ray of light bouncing off his mask. "Mojave, Typhon. Will you join me?"
Outwardly, Typhon didn't react. On the inside, his mind was a flurry of motion. That same watery feeling washed over him again, but magnitudes more intense. If the previous times were akin to being dunked in a pond, this was like being thrown into a river and left to the rapids' mercy. Just as quickly as it came, the flood stopped, and Typhon's mind was made up.
"No."
A few seconds later, painfully spoken from Mojave came, "…Maybe."
Aurelian whispered something under his breath and stepped forward, right up to Team Dune. "Excuse me? Could you repeat that?"
"Maybe. I- I just don't know! I want to say yes, but I want to say no, but you have a point, but I could never accept!" Mojave was on the verge of tears. "I just don't know!"
"That's… interesting." Aurelian considered the situation, his paw pensively held to his chin. "But you are at least open to the idea of working with me?"
"Yes… probably. Maybe."
Aurelian took a long breath. "I can work with that." He turned to face Typhon. "And you. You are absolutely sure in your conviction? I understand that you don't have the best opinion of me, but I can show you that your doubt is misplaced."
Typhon laughed to himself. "Sandshrew, 'doubt' is putting it mildly. If my only options are fighting with you or against you, you better be ready for what's coming next."
The soldiers in Aurelian's line immediately shifted to battle stances, prepared to unleash a flurry of moves in a heartbeat.
Aurelian calmed them. "Settle down. We're not Nomads. We don't fight Pokémon just for speaking." He stared directly at Typhon. "Still though, while I respect your dedication, it leaves you so needlessly close-minded.
Aurelian walked back to his soldiers. "Very well, it can't be helped." He clapped his paws. "We'll take Trapinch back with us, take Gible home." He clapped again.
In an instant, Typhon heard the sound of something flying past him and instinctively ducked. He looked over to Mojave just in time to see something pink and flowery slam into his face and explode on impact, revealing an evil green mist.
His jaw dropped open in surprise, letting him get stunned by something slamming against the inside of his mouth before ricocheting down his throat. He coughed and fell to the ground, sending up clouds of the same mist.
He tried to stand back up, but a feeling of overwhelming drowsiness was upon him. His arms and legs were limp, and he had as much ability to move them as he had over his fin. They were useless weights keeping him down, and he couldn't do anything about it.
His eyelids were next, and they came down slowly, torturing him as he fought to keep them open. His vision cruelly closed in on him, framing Mojave in a similar situation. The trapinch swayed on his legs before falling to his side, his good eye aligned with Typhon.
The last thing Typhon saw before his eyes closed was Mojave going first, unable to do anything. Moments before drifting way, he could hear Aurelian talk to himself in a hushed tone. "Not a success… but not a total failure."
Author's Note: In the process of writing this chapter I actually learned something! Turns out, when I set myself to writing, I actually write! Out of the month it took me to work on this chapter, it was in the past few days that I did the bulk of it all. Hopefully, this new revelation will inspire me to sit down at the keyboard more often.
Onto the actual story, this is where things finally pick up. I've introduced a lot of ideas and characters, and in the coming chapters is where it all comes together. I've had everything in the back of my mind since I first opened Word last year, and I'm really excited to finally get it all down. Until next, cheers!
