Tales are told and weaved throughout time
to one day join the archive of all.
Listen to this tale told long after Queen Serenity
and her beloved Silver Millennium,
long after Uther's son and his violent descent to Avalon,
long after the reign of King Endymion and Neo-Queen Serenity
and their precious Crystal Tokyo
and so long after the remembrance of time
in which our Senshi have become mere shadows,
promoted to the wretched position of deities
from what they once were.
Where another figure of power is rising,
reborn in a time so familiar yet so alien.
Where the line of enemy and ally have been redefined,
where the rebirth of our heroes
is either a curse or a saving grace.
Temples of False PromiseChapter Four: The Name of a Friend
Retold by HEL
"If you go about it this way you shall always come out with the silver thief card," Cardon explained. Cardon, the master of slight of hand and, of course, playing card tricks, was trying to teach poor Arthur how to do the simplest tricks, but the boy was too clumsy and it was so obvious when he was trying to switch cards. Cardon knew Arthur would never be good at any illusion. It wasn't the boy's fault, though, he was just too honest to trick people in such a dirty way. It was rare to find such loyalty and chivalry in a gypsy. Cardon wondered what Byron had been thinking when he had brought the boy to the Isis Clan.
Arthur picked up the deck of sixty-one cards. In his head he went over the face types to make sure he remembered them that was the base knowledge of any skill in the cards. There were five different groups, brass, copper, lead, silver, and gold; five of the most well known elements even known to the poorest the downtrodden and the most ignorant of people. There were twenty-six cards that were of the higher values, they were the thief, the queen, the necromancer, the emperor, and the jester; each one represented in each of the different element groups consisting in all of twenty-five different cards. The last of the higher twenty-six was a card called the Senshi card, in most card games this card was the highest value, a free card, or some other high spot. There were thirty-five lower cards, numbering one through seven and each was represented in a elemental group.
Arthur was deeply confused, so many cards with so many strange names. He had a vague clue what a queen or a thief was, but a necromancer or a Senshi left him completely lost. The words were so knew that they twisted his tongue around
trying to say them. How could he possibly learn how to do anything with the cards if he didn't know how to pronounce their names? This was all so frustrating for the young, newly christened gypsy.
"This is hopeless," Arthur grumbled. They had been on the road for close to two weeks and he still hadn't learned any useful skills. Besides failing at card tricks, he wasn't sly and mysterious enough to pull off a successful illusion or magic trick, to learn to play an instrument was completely hopeless, he wasn't tone deaf like some, but he had little natural ability and it would take years for him to even begin to master any instrument. His voice was sweet and he could sing fairly well, but again the words got twisted on his tongue, they were just too foreign and strange for him.
Cardon sighed, but couldn't argue with what Arthur had said, learning the mastery of cards just was not in the boy's veins.
"I hate to tell Byron, but you're right, this is hopeless," Cardon agreed.
"He can always try something else, I know he has talent. We just have to find it is all," Byron said brightly walking over to the two hearing the tale end of the conversation.
"Of course, Byron, of course," Cardon echoed, but he didn't sound too sure of what he was saying. Byron frowned, it wasn't like Cardon to give up. Enough was enough for one day.
"Cardon, put away the cards. We need to get back on the road. If we want to reach York by the day after tomorrow we have to get a move on," Byron ordered and Cardon rushed to obey. Around them people moved back onto the wagons and horses ready to begin the afternoon trek, they had been stopping for their noonday meal.
People hurried around, putting things back in the wagons and getting themselves adjusted into their seats whether on a horse or wagon seat. Arthur scrambled up a wagon side by an old man who he didn't know by name.
"Arthur!" a shout came across the wagon train. Arthur turned around looking for the source. People were still milling to a fro and the bodies blocked his line of sight.
"I do believe someone is calling for you boy," the old man told Arthur. Mere seconds later Aphrodite came riding upon a magnificent dark gray horse with a white mane and socks. She was leading a smaller pony by the bridle.
"Arthur, if you wouldn't slouch so much you'd be much easier to locate," she scolded. Those were the first words Aphrodite had spoken to him since that first night when he had unintentionally spooked her into ignoring him
"I'm sorry," he said quickly, he didn't want to be on the receiving end of her anger, it was a nasty place to be.
"Don't be so meek, boy. Byron sent me. He wants you to learn to ride. Somehow the son of a bitch that I would be the perfect teacher," Aphrodite grumbled. Arthur just sat there with his mouth hanging open. Him, ride? The pony that Aphrodite led was a bit smaller then a normal horse, but still it was a long way down to the ground and what if when he did fall, which he would surely do, the bloody horse rolled right over him shattering his small ribs into a thousand pieces? Not even the gods would get him on a horse, not now, not ever.
Aphrodite was always keen to what people were feeling and she knew that Arthur was scared witless. She was older, she was the boss and Arthur needed to realize that.
"You little shit," Aphrodite said slowly and forcefully. "You get your scrawny ass off that wagon bench this minute and climb on Orea right now or I'm going to box your ears so hard they collapse into your head!" Sadly, Aphrodite had little patience and Arthur had little backbone dealing with overbearing women.
Arthur figured that Aphrodite was ten times worse then any god he had ever heard of and he jumped onto the pony named Orea in the blink of an eye.
"Good, we understand each other," Aphrodite smiled coldly. "Give Orea a gentle nudge in the side and follow me. The time we get to the head of the group you'll be a pro and I'll be done babysitting you."
Arthur just gulped nervously and looked back at the old man sitting on the wagon bench. The guy was grinning from ear to ear and just shrugged his shoulders in a jester that meant he could do nothing about the demon Aphrodite. Arthur grimaced, Aphrodite would be the death of him some day.
Soon Arthur was riding beside Byron at the head of the group and Aphrodite was nowhere in sight. He wasn't complaining, though. Riding Orea had proven easier then he had originally thought.
Arthur didn't say much, Byron was talking to some other men and women riding by him. Instead, the young boy watched road in front. At first when he saw the white blurry haze up ahead he thought it was is imagination, but when one of the scouts rode back shouting something, he knew that he had not made up the strange phenomena ahead of him.
"Oh no," Byron exclaimed before the scout could say anything. His eyes were glued to the road up ahead. "Reports said that it was more like summer weather in this part of the country."
"The gods must have changed their minds," the scout said weakly, trying to bring everyone's spirits up, but not doing a very good job at it.
"Well, we'll just have to make camp here, most of the winter clothing and stores are packed away. This is going to be a huge delay," Byron said angrily. He was frustrated. Snow, why did it have to be snow? He hated winter, he hated the ice, the below freezing temperatures, and he hated the snow.
"What does this mean?" a quiet voice piped up from beside Byron. He looked over to see Arthur, on his small pony, looking up at Byron, confused.
"You've never seen snow, have you?" Byron asked the boy. Arthur nodded in embarrassment, at every new turn he realized how little he knew of the outside world.
"Well, how about we go to take a look. I'll just put Marcus in charge of setting up camp while you and me ride out see what winter looks like," Byron suggested. He hated winter, but was eager to show his foster son something new. It was a very wonderful experience, some days he wondered why he had never gotten married and had children.
"Sir, you cannot go alone. Cardon and I will accompany you. There is bandits and thieves riddled across these roads and we all know of your meager skills with a sword," Marcus said, riding up with a long sword and scabbard hooked unto his belt. Arthur didn't doubt that the man could use the weapon effectively.
"Fine," Byron grumbled. Sometimes is was quite nerve racking being king of the gypsies.
"Snow, rain, hail, and other such things are all forms of precipitation, which are all forms of water. Steam from cooking pots are also a form of water..." Byron was trying to explain all this to a very puzzled Arthur as they rode down the path when Cardon interrupted him. Byron was very knowledgeable on a vast range of subjects and enjoyed teaching all he knew to Arthur, but he sometimes forgot that Arthur needed things kept simpler.
"Byron stop," Cardon demanded forcefully. The group came to a sudden stop. Byron could feel something wrong and silently scolded himself for not realizing it sooner. He had been too busy speaking to Arthur.
"What is it?" Byron asked, all of a sudden very interested in what was happening around him. He knew that Cardon would not have interrupted him unless it was something very important.
"Up ahead, a battle," Cardon almost whispered. Arthur squinted his violet eyes so he could just make out the people and horses right where the seasons changed from spring to winter. Cardon must have really good eyesight because Arthur had no clue that those specks up there were a battle. Most likely Cardon was just an expert swordsman who knew the scent of blood in the air.
"We need to move closer," Byron commanded and the quartet moved silently into the trees and bushes surrounding the road. They left their mounts tied to trees and moved through the woods soundlessly. Byron motioned for Arthur to follow him and the boy quickly complied.
After a few minutes they reached the edge of the season change and moved in closer to watch the battle.
"I don't recognize either side as a gypsy clan," Marcus whispered so only his companions could hear. Arthur agreed with him, no noticeable gypsies were involved in this skirmish. There were clearly two sides. The one more noticeable had about twelve or so in it, armored men who looked and fought like well-trained knights. They had three main colors adorning their almost identical outfits. Each wore bright silver colored armor and mail with red gloves and boots. There were a few of the men with deep black plumes attached to the tops of their helmets. Arthur guessed these were officers or some such man in charge. On each of the men's left breastplates there was a black symbol of a curling twig with leaves and thorns protruding from it.
The other side was easily extinguishable because they didn't have armor on them. Arthur could see that there was only about eight of them and about three of them were women. Each had on clothing that consisted of the browns, tans, and auburns of animal fur, very dirty and grubby animal fur. There faces were marked with strange symbols with red and yellow paint, most likely a mixer of mud and some type of fruit. They looked a whole of a lot fiercer then the uniformed knights. They had a wild, unnatural look to them.
"Who are they?" Arthur asked timidly to the three men.
"Shush boy," Marcus hissed. Arthur, who was kind of intimidated by the rough man, immediately left all comments unspoken after that.
The battle raged on. Even though the knights had armor they were still being beaten back by the wild people. Arthur watched helplessly as the women and men slaughtered the knights. Arthur stared gaped mouthed. One of the savages caught his eye. She was barely past childhood, but she fought with more vigor and intensity then all her friends combined. She seemed to know where to stick her stone daggers so they found the open vulnerable skin of the her opponents. Her stormy gray eyes flashed victoriously as time after time her deft strokes brought down a knight, usually a fatal blow. Her hair was sprung out behind her, whipping in the wind and gently falling snow around her. She was a true demoness.
"What are we going to do?" Arthur asked, forgetting about being silent. Marcus gave him an evil look that clearly meant shut up, but Byron answered the boy civilly.
"Nothing."
"How can we just sit here and watch these people be slaughtered by these savages?" Arthur said angrily. He hadn't realized until that moment he had taken the side of the knights in the silver, black, and red, but he had subconsciously. Maybe, it was because they did not carry the savage looks of the wild people in furs.
"Their fight is not ours. If it was another gypsy clan we would not hesitate to help, but these are all strangers," Byron explained simply. Arthur looked at his foster father coldly. His chivalrous and brave behavior taking charge. He did not know how Byron could sit and watch people be slaughtered and butchered.
"I can't stay here and do nothing," Arthur exclaimed and jumped up into the open. He had one thought in his mind and that was to fight the wild ones. The idea seemed so noble and right to him he had no other choice then to follow it. The insanity of the decision never occurred to the young boy.
"No!" Byron shouted as his son moved out into the battle. He tried to stop the boy, but Arthur was just too quick, dodging the man's grasp. Byron cursed under his breath and knew there was nothing he could do.
The first thing that Arthur did was try to pick up one of the fallen knights swords, but realized it was much too heavy for him. Thankfully, he found a lightweight dagger laying nearby. It was covered in sticky blood, but Arthur knew it would have to do.
All this time the fighters around him had ignored his presence. When a palomino and its rider came close enough to him he stabbed one of the savage paint smeared men in the leg. The savage yelped with pain and anger at the little rodent who had injured him. He brought his double edged ax up for a blow, but Arthur just tugged at his dagger that was still embedded in the man's leg. This brought him sliding off the horse and into the snow. The man grunted and tried to sit up, but Arthur was just too quick. The boy who was barely seven withdrew the dagger in the blink of an eye and plunged it down into the man's heart. As Arthur gave one last twist the man spasmed in pain and then was dead. Arthur had no time to reflect on his first kill, there was still more savages alive and fighting. He grabbed the reigns of the dead man's palomino and jumped on like he had been riding horses all of his short life. The palomino was diffidently bigger then the pony Orea.
Arthur gave a war cry that sounded through the afternoon air not knowing where he had learned such a thing. He rammed his legs to the horse's side and it took off to his next opponent. A well-trained warhorse was his mount during the rest of the battle. Surprisingly it did not even try to buck him off.
He killed two more that day, finishing the battle in a hurry. The knights had barely managed to kill four and only seven of them were still standing. They were in awe of the fierce and miraculous boy who had saved their lives.
One of the savages was still alive, she had been captured. Arthur realized it was the demoness from earlier, the gray eyed wild woman-child. Standing watch over her were Marcus and Cardon, they had both joined the fight after Arthur. Byron had stayed in the trees, after the battle he came up beside Arthur, not meeting Arthur's eyes.
"I'm a lover, not a fighter," he mumbled trying to explain his actions. Arthur smiled at his foster father, he understood that the man had many skills, but the battlefield just wasn't one of them.
"Well done," a childish voice brought both Arthur and Byron to turn around and face the two riders coming out of the bushes from the far end of the clearing. The first was the speaker, a petite girl who was even younger then Arthur with shimmery long silver hair and bright turquoise blue eyes. The second person made Arthur wish the ground would split open and the core of the world gobble him up. The rider was the terrible old monk from his days at the temple. An evil and vile man by any standards.
"We are only glad to be of service, my lady," Byron said humbly then bowed gracefully to the child.
Arthur scrunched his body down to hide on his horse, but then realized that he had cloak or over shirt to hide his face in. It was too late the old monk stared right at him like Arthur was a stranger. The boy was puzzled until he realized that the old monk must not recognize him. Two weeks ago he had been a scrawny dirty rodent looking slave to the monks of Cronus. He was now a clean, neatly dressed lad who possessed extraordinary fighting skills, of course, the old monk thought him a stranger.
"I fear that those beasts would have murdered all my master's soldiers," the girl's voice was high and musical. Arthur could almost get lost in it. She was wearing a heavy dark navy blue cloak lined with snowy white ermine fur. She had pulled down her hood so all could get a good look at her childish, but regal features.
"We are only honored to be of service to you kind lady and your elderly friend," Marcus murmured, eyes downcast as he stepped forward. The monk stiffened at being called elderly, but said nothing.
The young girl frowned and then seemed to recover enough to give the four gypsies a cold, haughty smile.
"This old man beside me is of no importance to anyone. He is just ancient monk not worthy of even a small ants attention," the girl informed them. The monk turned away so his expression was unreadable.
"Forgive our ignorance," Byron said, stepping forward and bowing. "I am Byron, leader of the Isis Clan. These men are my cousin, Marcus, and one of my most loyal friends and follower, Cardon. The boy is my son, Arthur."
The girl nodded politely and then made her formal introductions. "I am Chia, servant to the great Tarqeq. I am honored to meet such fine men as you, but I am curious about one thing." Chia turned to face Arthur. He blushed with embarrassment over the attention bestowed on him, a mere child, older then the girl, but not noble as.
"Arthur, as all can see you are but a boy, still a young child, but your skill with the weapon of a dagger is impeccable. Imagine what you could do as a full grown adult with a sharp sword in your hand. I find myself in awe, who was your master of swords? I know the clans are not as a whole known as fighters, but you have a most fantastic gift."
"Until today I have never picked up so much as a hunting knife," Arthur said truthfully. The look on Chia's face and her remaining seven knights was one of surprise and some doubt.
"If what you say is true, then you are truly blessed by the gods," Chia praised the boy who blushed at the young girl's compliments.
"My lord, Tarqeq, is a mighty and powerful man. He is in need of such gifted soldiers such as you. I know without a doubt that he would welcome you into his army. It would be years until you would be allowed to fight, but when you did I promise you that a general's title is the only worthy position for you," Chia offered. Arthur could not believe what she was saying, two weeks ago he had been a slave to the same monk who sitting upon the horse scant feet away from him. Now a girl barely looking past the age of five was offering him a place of honor for which usually the most experienced soldiers are entitled to.
"I have heard of this Tarqeq. Many say that he has his sights on world domination and uniting all the lands. It sound like a noble cause, but Arthur must make his own choice," Byron's said before Arthur could even say his answer. His blood was pounding, he had liked the feel of the battle. At this time he wasn't even considering the men and women he had killed, right now was the time to bask in the glory of the moment. Of course he would say yes.
Arthur opened his mouth, but then looked at Byron. A nagging feeling crept up his spine and goose bumps traveled up his forearms as he watched his foster father. In those precious moments where he could change his life so drastically he hesitated for the sake of one man. He realized in those two weeks with the Isis Clan he had come to respect, like, and love the man like only a son could love a father. Arthur knew that Byron cared just as deeply for him. He had welcomed him into his home and heart, what kind of person was Arthur to abandon him now? Deep down the Arthur's strong feelings of justice and honor sprang up and cleared his vision.
"Lady Chia, I must decline," Arthur said, his voice rang bold and true. Byron looked up at the boy with wonderment, even at the young age Arthur was he understood what a human should be like with all honor and dignity.
"May I ask why?" Chia said frowning. She had expected the overzealous boy to say yes, but for some odd reason he had turned down her offer. That just wasn't right.
Arthur looked at her strangely, not understanding why she didn't just let him be. He had made his decision, what more did she want?
"I am needed with the Isis Clan," Arthur said finally. Chia just shrugged, not understanding the boy, but willing to except it.
"If you won't except my offer then I must insist you take something else. Just ask and it is yours. Would you like money? A enchanted sword that always hits its mark? How about a beautiful mare of exquisite bloodlines bred in Tarqeq's own stables?" Chia urged him to choose whatever he liked. He could have anything in the realms of possibility from such a powerful and wealthy man such as Tarqeq. Considering how wealthy Tarqeq was it was a dream for any man, woman, or child alive.
Arthur knew he shouldn't choose with haste. He needed to think things out. He wished that Byron would council him, but knew the man would only say something silly like do what his heart and soul told him to do. Arthur's face took on a look of great concentration as he looked around him. His gaze fell upon the savage woman-child still alive. She was tied and bloody, kneeling beside Cardon who had a sword pointed at her long sleek throat.
She was beautiful in an exotic way. Her skin almost as pale and pasty as the snow falling slowly around the group. He could now see her dark black hair was perfectly straight without even one strand out of place, the battle had not mussed her hair one inch. Her hair had no natural body. Her deep gray eyes flashed with hatred at her captors and her tiny, thin body rigid with anger. Arthur hated her.
"I wish to keep the savage girl," he told Chia. The silver haired girl raised her left eyebrow in surprise.
"Why would you want to do that?" she asked. Arthur just sighed, this girl had to question every decision he made.
"It is what my father would do," Arthur told her. Chia looked sicken with anger and Arthur wondered if he had gone too far.
"Show pity on a woman who killed my master's knights?" Chia hissed. Chia's remaining men shifting uneasily they had no wish to get into a fight with such a deadly boy, young though he was.
"No," Arthur said vehemently. The knights moved to their swords, but Chia motioned them to not threaten these four gypsies. "It is called compassion, my lady."
Beside Arthur, Byron was beaming with pride, the boy was learning. Cardon and Marcus just looked fearful that the Lady Chia would order her knights cut them down for Arthur's borderline insults.
"Fine have the wretched girl," Chia fumed. The boy was a great fighter, but he must be the biggest fool in all the world. "I now must bid you fine men ado. Dusk is gathering and my men and I need to reach a certain destination point by the time we stop."
Chia motioned her remaining knights and the old monk to follow her and they fled away into the snow and tree as silently and quickly as possibly carrying their dead with them.
"Now can we get out of here? I am freezing!" Cardon whined as the rest of the party just stared at the retreating figures.
"Of course," Byron said shaking out of his revere. He then realized that all around him lay bodies of the fallen savages. "Cardon go fetch your horse and ride back to camp. Bring back several men and shovels we need to bury these people."
Cardon nodded and raced off. He desperately wanted to back the summer season reigned.
"Does the Lady Chia have no respect for the dead?" Marcus grumbled. He was know guarding over the savage woman alone being so as Cardon had left.
"They have no respect for their enemies dead," Byron said reasonably and Marcus scowled.
"Marcus go back to the summer side and find a open clearing where we can bury these bodies," Byron commanded. "Arthur take Marcus's post."
Marcus raced off and Arthur did as he was told holding his dagger to her throat. Byron grabbed the bridle of the horse Arthur had jumped off of. The other horses that had had their riders slain had run off.
"Arthur that was a brave act you did back there," Byron told his son while trying to settle the war mount down.
"I just thought of what you would do when asked those questions. In a way it was really you who did everything," Arthur admitted. Byron shook his head in a negative way.
"Tarqeq is powerful and would have made you the general Lady Chia promised. You could have had it all if you would have survived all the battles he will need to gain control of this world. She offered you power beyond belief as the second time and you chose the life of an enemy. I did not make these decisions, you did," Byron insisted. Arthur seemed to except this and went on to bring up something else that was bothering him.
"What are we going to do with her?" Arthur asked.
"It is your choice," Byron said mysteriously. Arthur looked at him in wonderment. He was to be the judge and jury to the savage. How could he do that? He realized then that there were some questions he needed to ask her before he made a decision.
"Woman, why were you fighting Lady Chia and her knights? Was it for money?" Arthur asked. He had realized that to pass any judgment on this woman he needed to understand her at least a little bit.
"Demon spawn," the woman said and spit on the ground to show how vile she thought Lady Chia was. Her voice was low and raspy Arthur had to strain to hear her. The language was diffidently not her native tongue for her accent was thick and her words choppy and broken.
"What did she ever do to you?" Arthur asked slowly, making sure she could understand him.
"Last of tribe, fight her. She kill rest," the woman said angrily. After a few moments he figured out what she was trying to tell him. For some reason Lady Chia or her master's soldiers had killed the better lot of her tribe. Her and the seven other savages were just trying to get revenge. Maybe, Lady Chia and her knights weren't the right side to be fighting on. Arthur shivered, but it wasn't the cold winter air that made him make just a gesture, it was the thought of the mistake he might have made.
"Why did she attack your tribe?" Arthur asked not sure if he wanted to hear the answer, but knowing he needed to know.
"Lady's gods stink. Evil. No worship. Lady kills tribe," the women-girl's voice grew defensive. Arthur knew that she must be hurting inside. Lady Chia had tried to force her beliefs on this savage's people and they had refused her and for that she wiped out the better part of the tribe. That was wrong. Arthur had grown up being forced to believe things that he did not believe were true. He knew what he young woman was going through.
"You're free," Arthur whispered, his voice was husky and guilt ridden, almost like he was going to start crying. In the space of mere minutes he had done a most horrible deed. He didn't question if the pale savage woman was telling the truth, he knew what she was like by talking to her. He knew he had killed three innocent people that day.
The woman's face took on a look of great surprise and then one of disbelief. Arthur lifted the dagger away from her throat and dropped it to the ground. He nodded when she gave him a questioning look asking if this was real.
"Kikimora," the woman said as she stood up and put her hand on his shoulder. The pain and guilt in him couldn't stand her noble behavior, she was offering him her name.
"I don't deserve this," he said hoarsely, but Kikimora just shook her head. Her deep gray eyes piercing into Arthur's violet ones. In that moment he knew that Kikimora forgave him, he was ignorant and naive. Her whole tribe had journeyed to the afterlife, the last because of him, but because of his noble behavior in giving her the freedom she desired she forgave him.
Arthur could barely comprehend what he was feeling, but he knew that the woman-child would be his friend until the day one of them died.
"I will remember, Kikimora," he said solemnly. Kikimora smiled sadly and ran off into the growing shadows of the forest, sinking in the dark areas and becoming lost to Arthur's sight. He hoped someday he could help Kikimora or she help him, because that is what friends were for.