** disclaimer: Digimon does not belong to me. Takeru, Hikari, Yolei, Davis and Cody doesn't belong to me. If they did, I'd be rich. The Taelidani, the Khaydarin, Sai Auia, Razul and Locke do belong to me. So leave me alone you vultures!
Pilgrimage: Chapter Four
By: TK Takaishi
**two days later**
Two riders raced down the sandy dunes, heedless of the setting sun as the urged their steeds to greater speeds. The sleek hunting horses rose to the challenge, champing at the bit, as they practically flew down the trail, following the large column of tracks. Their thundering hooves pounded the earth, throwing up a small cloud of dust as each beat threw sand backwards. The dusk sky blazed with brilliant colours, setting everything aflame with red and gold.
Takeru and Davis had left the sandy wastelands long ago. Now, the land they traveled through was scrubland, with little stunted copses of trees making a stand here and there, and plains of waist-high grassland, burned to a deep golden brown in the sun. The blond boy had no trouble distinguishing the tracks. The trail was almost two hundred meters wide, a huge swath through the waving ocean of meadow grass and desert sand. Dust storms began to whip around, chasing each other across the crimson horizon and stirring up the grass. The temperature began to drop rapidly as night fell and the sun sank below the horizon.
Davis shielded his eyes from the flying sand as he peered backwards at the dying sun. As he checked his directions against the tracks, he began to frown. "Hey Takeru!" he yelled. "Is it just me, or are these tracks…starting to turn east?"
Takeru had the hood of his cloak pulled up to shelter his face, but at Davis's yell, he pulled it back down. Looking from the setting sun to the tracks, and back again, he too began to look grim. "It's not just you. These people turned east."
"Damn," Davis muttered under his breath.
"You couldn't have known when you pointed the Taelidani east," Takeru tried to reassure him. "At the time, the tracks were still leading north. We'll just have to hope they get to Sai Auia safely."
"If they'll be safe anywhere, it'll be at Sai Auia," Davis said glumly. "Problem is…whoa!" Pulling back hard on the reins, his steed skidded to a stop in a cloud of flying sand.
"There's more of them!"
Takeru also pulled back on his reigns, and his hunting horse slowed to a canter, then to a stop. In the dying sunlight, he could make out another huge column of tracks, intercepting the first. This one snaked off from the north, but where the two joined, they both turned due east.
"Merde," he muttered as he quickly dismounted, and knelt to inspect the new tracks.
Davis remained mounted, leading his horse around in a circle along the tracks. "How many?"
Takeru looked around. The place was completely strewn with footprints, all smudged together, going in different directions. "No idea," he said as he shrugged helplessly. "Several hundred?"
"Our friends joined up with someone along the way," Davis observed, as his horse began pacing restlessly around. Night was coming, and the desert was a dangerous place at night. "There's no sign of a fight. Look at this! This was a campsite. A huge one."
He was right. Where the two tracks joined, the sand had been disturbed, and there were small piles of ashes left in the ground where people had built fires. There were marks left in the sand from the tents. There were even small wheel ruts in the ground from wagons that had been dragged through the desert. Takeru felt a sinking sensation in his stomach as he looked around. The former campsite was at least a kilometer across. A kilometer! But there was no sign of a conflict. No blood, no broken weapons, no corpses. There had been no fight here.
"I can't even begin to guess how many men they have combined," Takeru said as he stood up, brushing sand from his cloak. "It's impossible to tell from the tracks. But these campfire ashes were recent. Less than a day old. Look at these unburned twigs and kindling. Some of them are still green. We're close."
Davis gave him a strange look. "Since when were farmers from Kurtal so proficient at tracking?"
Takeru shrugged. "We weren't only farmers you know. We did a fair bit of hunting as well, and my father taught me how to track my prey. People really aren't all that different."
"Come on then," Davis said as he scanned the horizon. "With luck, if we push it, we might be able to catch up to them sometime tonight." Taking the hint, Takeru leapt back on his mount, and they resumed tracking the footprints in the sand.
The tracks were sharp and clear, even in the fading sunlight. As the hours passed by and the stars and the moon came out, the desert gleamed changed from gold to silver in their soft light. The dust storms faded away, leaving a deathly still grassland in their wake.
"They're still heading east," Takeru said softly as he drew his hood back up. "Straight as an arrow. Due east…"
**********
"Let's keep moving!" Yolei's voice rang out clearly through the darkness. "Follow the lights! Don't stop!"
The Taelidani party pushed on through the night, not stopping even to rest. Firebrands held by Taelidani leaders led the way, and lit up the path. By the glow of the fire-torches, everyone seemed to be flickering in and out of sight as the flames danced in the light breeze. Beyond the circle of light, the desert was completely dark and forbidding. From afar, the group was like an island of light was slowly wending its way across an ocean of black stillness. The solitude was immense, the silence overwhelming. The effect was surreal.
Kari walked silently, her feet making no sound in the cooling sands. Her sling-encased left arm was tucked beneath her cloak. Although she would never admit it, she was exhausted. Every step pained her shoulder, but she steadfastly refused Yolei's offers to give her a horse to ride. "Leave the horses for the old, or for supplies," she had replied. "I can walk just like everyone else."
And so she walked. Tired and injured as she was, she'd be damned before she burdened the Taelidani. Yolei had been unconvinced that Kari was truly all right. The girl had looked pale and shaken under the light of the fire-torches. But the Taelidani had more pressing concerns right now, and she had reluctantly let Kari have her way.
"Ms. Kari? Are you all right?"
Kari turned her head to see Cody walking beside her. She offered the concerned boy a small smile. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."
"You're limping."
Kari sighed and unconsciously straightened her gait. "I am?"
"Just a little. I wouldn't have noticed if I wasn't looking for it. You're favouring your left side."
Kari shook her head. "My…my shoulder just hurts a little that's all. I'm fine, really…"
Cody however, wouldn't take her word for it. Running off into the darkness, he approached Razul. A moment later, he was coming back with a long wooden stick. "Razul tells me you've repeatedly refused a ride from one of our horses," Cody told her seriously. "So instead, I decided you might need this. It's a walking staff. It should help."
Kari stared at the little boy for a moment, then laughed. Reaching out, she took the staff hesitantly, and tested the stick against the ground. It was light, yet incredibly strong. "Thanks a lot Cody," she said gratefully. "It's a great help."
Cody's expression was customarily solemn. "Anytime."
Then the two were silent as they continued to walk, keeping up with the column. The staff certainly was a great help, Kari mused as she tapped the ground with it.
Then she sank back into her own thoughts as she marched on mechanically. Despite her best efforts, nothing seemed to be able to quell the fluttery feeling of worry deep in her stomach. Worrying about him won't do anything, she told herself firmly. It can't help him, and it's certainly not helping me. So why do I do it?
But it was useless. She had grown used to Takeru's companionship, to his presence. The sound of his measured breathing and voice. But most of all, she had grown used to being able to reach out with her mind, and gently touch his for reassurance. Now he was gone, and where his comforting presence used to be, there was only a cold void. Kari felt like she was missing something, like a hand or a foot.
Takeru, she thought whimsically, reaching out with her mind, Come back soon. It's getting awfully lonely.
"Kari?"
The girl shook her head. "Hmm?"
"Did…did you say something?"
Kari snapped her head around to stare at the little boy. His face was deadly serious, and his green eyes looked surprised, even slightly alarmed. For a moment, her crimson eyes narrowed. Then she shrugged. "No. why do you ask?"
"Uh…no, it's nothing then."
They traveled on in silence.
"Kari? Can I ask you a question?"
Again, Kari frowned. "Sure," she said.
"Um…," Cody looked hesitant. "I'm almost positive that you did say something back there. Something about Takeru. If there's something worrying you, you can tell me."
In the flickering firelight, Kari looked at Cody as she walked. The boy gazed innocently back. "You're sure?"
"That you can tell me? Of course! I'm not like Yolei or Davis."
"Cody, I swear, I did not say anything."
Cody tilted his head. "That's strange. Maybe it wasn't you then. Sure sounded like you…"
As Cody talked, Kari's face had slowly become dead serious. The light gleam of humour in her eyes faded. "Cody," she said in a quiet voice. "I want you to try something for me."
Confused, Cody nodded.
"Alright." Kari took a deep breath. "First of all, close your eyes. Here, take my hand. That way you won't get lost." Taking hold of her staff with her injured left hand, she took hold of Cody's hand with her right one.
Cody frowned. "What's this abou- "
"Just trust me on this one. This is something that is…better shown than described."
Cody gazed into Kari's crimson eyes curiously, then did as he was told. "Now what?"
"I want you to imagine you're looking down a well. A really deep and dark cave. So deep that you can't see the bottom. Try not to think of anything except how deep and how dark that cave is."
"If you insist…"
"Ready?"
"Um…yeah."
"All right." Once she was sure Cody was as calm as he could be at this stage, Kari cleared her own mind, and carefully sent the clearest thought shape she could form at the boy. She sent it at a volume louder than she usually did with Takeru, and at a much more rudimentary level.
Beside her, she felt Cody's hand jerk as the boy gasped. His green eyes flew open.
"What did you see?" Kari asked softly.
"I…uh…," Cody looked shaken as he ran his hand through his hair. "Was that supposed to happen?"
Kari smothered a grin as she repeated her question. "What did you see?"
"I…I saw a flower. A white flower." Cody stared up at her intently. "There are no white flowers in the desert."
Kari tilted her head with a small smile. "I suspected as much. You can receive my thought shapes. What you saw, was a trillium. A flower native to my homeland, the mountains. Of course you've never seen it before, because it doesn't exist in the desert. And this proves that the mark on your shirt was genuine."
"What mark?"
Kari sighed as she stared ahead, and kept walking. Releasing Cody's hand, she transferred the staff back into her good hand and kept marching. "Have you ever noticed that Takeru and I always seem to be talking using half-sentences? Like listening to half a conversation? That's because that's all you heard. Half a conversation. The other half," Kari said as she tapped her temple, "went on in here."
Cody looked at her incredulously. "You and Takeru are…psychic?!"
Kari gave him another small smile. "If you want to put it that way, yes. We can talk with our minds. We figured out that it was something only…stand-masters could do. I can't 'talk' to anyone who doesn't have the gift."
"Cool!" Cody said. "Davis and Yolei never figured that out, or they'd have told everyone! They're stand-masters, they should be able to do it."
Then it struck him. "Wait a minute, if you can… 'talk' with me, that would make me…" he trailed off as his eyes widened.
"That's right Cody," Kari said as she leaned on her staff and trudged on. "That would make you a stand-master."
**********
The darkness of the desert is the closest thing to absolute that one will find anywhere. Out here in the unending wilderness, there are no lights of human habitation, no glow from a lighted city. There are only the moon-silvered sands, and the cosmic bodies locked in their eternal dance, spinning through the velvet blackness.
Nights in the desert are, more often than not, crystal clear. Only in a brief period each year do clouds cover the sky during the rainy season. On any given evening, one could see the stars spread out in all their glory across the sky. You could even see the colours in them. White and blue mostly. But on the rare night, if the earth and the stars were in the right place, you might get to see fiery Venus, or red Mars. All Takeru knew was that it was a breath-taking scene that usually never failed to hold his wonder. The stars were a mystery, a promise set into the sky by God. Many times he had reached out to them, to trace their twinkling forms with his fingers, to unravel their mystery, but the stars yielded nothing, withholding their secrets with frustrating stubbornness.
But on this night, the beauty of the night sky was lost on the boy. He had eyes only for the dark dunes around them, ears only to detect footsteps. His senses were stretched to the utmost, ever alert for danger. It was the highest state of awareness Takeru could hold, and for a stand-master, that was considerable. Riding along on the hunting horse, he had slowed his steed down to a slow trot, not willing to create any more noise. Beside him, Davis was similarly alert, the normally energetic boy uncharacteristically dead focused.
They were close. He could see the ever-so-faint glow of campfires over the next dune, detectable only by stand-enhanced vision. Apparently, whoever had attacked Maran had decided to stop in a region of the desert dominated by rocky mesas and buttes. Here, the sands faded away into rock, and plateau-like cliffs, dry dusty grass and scrubby foliage.
Silently, he beckoned at Davis to stop. With a nod, the Taelidani leader led his horse off at a canter to the side, where he dismounted along with Takeru. "No more horses," Takeru said quietly at the other. "From here on, we go on foot. They must be just over that ridge." He nodded at the steep cliff ahead of them. "We should follow them around the mountain cliff"
Davis studied the surroundings as he tied his horse to a small tree. The tracks led around the mountain cliff, through a pass in the northern cliffs and into a rocky canyon. The easy way, as Takeru had suggested would have been to simply follow the tracks through the pass, skirting the mountain.
But he gave the blond boy beside him a suspicious glance. For all he knew, this might be a plan to lead him into a trap. "But that way, we'll be on level ground with the enemy once we emerge past the cover of the rock," he said firmly. "Perhaps a better way would be to scale that cliff to the south, and look down from on top of the ridge, down into the ravine. Much harder to see that way." If this was a trap, he was going to throw a crimp into Takeru's plans.
"It will take much longer," Takeru looked pensive. "And a hell of a lot more difficult."
"They probably won't move until morning light," Davis argued. "We have at least another seven hours. We have the time." He stared at the boy intently, his hand closing around the kodachi sheathed under his forearm. "As for difficulty, don't joke around with me. A stand-master can scale it in under an hour."
But to his surprise, Takeru agreed readily. "All right," the blond boy said as he too studied the landscape. "Let's go that way."
Davis tilted his head as he let go of the hilt of his kodachi. "Agreed," he murmured. Slightly reassured, he prepared to set off into the darkness, his dark tunic providing the perfect camouflage.
Then he stopped as he realized Takeru was not with him. Looking back, he saw that the rurouni had taken off his cloak. "Takeru? What are you- "
"Give me a second," Takeru said as he quickly flipped his cloak inside-out. The inside of the garment was a dark black. Slipping the loose robe back on, Takeru fastened the belt at his waist. Suddenly, instead of being clad in a light-brown travelling cloak, the boy was almost indistinguishable, blending into the night as perfectly as a wraith. The boy's blond hair was almost alarmingly bright against his dark attire.
"All right," Takeru said as he checked his own weapon. "Let's go."
"Didn't know your cloak had two sides." Davis said as the duo padded off into the desert.
"Well, I sure couldn't wear the dark side out during the day, can I?" Takeru said with a small smile. "I'd boil within an hour. It comes in handy though…"
"You should do something about your hair. If anyone shines a light on you, that blond will stick out like a flare."
"So I do this." Takeru pulled the hood of his cloak up.
"Perfect."
Then all conversation ceased as they reached the foot of the small mountain. On their right, a sheer cliff rose up into the night like a fortress. Completely impassable. They might as well try to climb a vertical wall of glass. For a moment, Davis seriously considered hacking a series of holds into the walls with his stand. It would not take long. But Takeru caught his arm, shook his head, and pointed left.
On their left, a series of cuts and slopes into the rocks provided a path up. Davis nodded in wordless agreement. Together, both stand-masters quickly scaled their way up the mountain. Walking up steep slopes where they could, climbing sheer rock where they couldn't.
It was a grueling hour of climbing before they reached the top. Many times, Davis was forced to gouge his own hand and footholds into the rock with his stand before levering himself up. Above him, Takeru jammed his knee into a crevasse, then used that to push himself up. His black cloak swirled as he balanced on the precarious knife-edge, then pushed off and gained a few feet. Davis gritted his teeth, and climbed on.
At last, they crested the last cliff. They paused for a couple minutes at the top to catch their breath, then set off to traverse the small plateau at the top. But they knew they were on the right track the instant they crested the ridge. The glow from the camp-fires was definite now, detectable even by the normal human eye. Davis dropping back slightly so he could keep Takeru in his sight at all times. The Taelidani was no fool. If Takeru was going to show his true colours, it would be now. Padding silently up to the ridge, Takeru and Davis looked at each other, then down.
"Holy mother of- " Davis whispered hoarsely.
The sight that greeted them was incredible. Legions upon legions of soldiers had pitched their tents across the valley floor. The immense army was flooded the valley like a sea of black, with legionnaires as numerous as the sands on the seashore. A ring of sentries had been posted around the perimeter, with organized patrols making a loop now and then. A few campfires still burned in the middle of the encampment, and the sentries all carried fire-torches. But despite the magnificent show of force, there were no banners in evidence, no proud flags or bold rallying standards fluttering in the wind.
Takeru's eyes narrowed as he scanned the camp. The majority of them appeared to be asleep. Black, magnificent war-horses were grazing, or sleeping in the small patch of dry pasture close to the oasis in the center. But to see more, he'd need a spying glass. Or better yet…
With a muted flash of light, the angel-stand appeared once more. As Takeru himself pulled back from the ridge, and crouched with his back against the rock, eyes closed, he allowed his stand to peer over instead. Seeing through his stand's eyes, Takeru's world sharpened drastically, focusing in on the chest-plate of a single soldier…
"Davis? What do you see?"
Beside him, he heard the rustle of Davis's clothes as he rubbed his eyes. "I…I can't tell from here…. I'd need a spying glass. Besides, they're not flying any obvious banners that I can see."
"So summon your stand. Like me. Look at the closest sentry, and read the insignia off his armour."
A small burst of red light on the edge of his vision (his stand's vision) told Takeru that Davis had done just that. A moment later, Davis's dragon stand was peering over the edge as well.
There was a long pause.
"Tell me I'm not seeing this…."
"Well?"
"I thought the golden serpent was only a legend! Something to frighten bad kids to bed or something."
"So you see it too?"
"I see a golden serpent, emblazoned onto black armour." Davis's eyes opened as his stand disappeared. He shook his head. "Even finding Sheid would have been less surprising. But Khaydarin?! I thought we defeated them five hundred years ago!"
"Biggest myth in history," Takeru murmured. "Adun didn't defeat them, he drove them out into Akeldama. And I guess they're back. Believe me, I've lived it firsthand." Then he clenched a fist as his stand faded away back into his body. "I knew it. I thought Maran bore their signature."
"You knew?!"
"Not knew. I suspected. They did the exact same thing to Kurtal."
A feeling of guilt suddenly overwhelmed Davis. All along, he had been suspicious of Takeru's motives, and now… "I get it now. This is all about your home town. Finding those that did this to your father…. And then making them pay."
"No it's not," Takeru said cryptically. "I'll explain later. Suffice to say, it won't be the first time they've done something like that. Right now, we have more important matters to attend to."
Then his quiet voice turned businesslike. "Davis, can you stay on this ridge, hidden, and do a rough count? We need to know approximately how many soldiers they have. See if you can get what weapons, and how many horses and cavalry they have as well."
"What about those beasts whose marks we saw?"
"See if you can find that out as well. But whatever you do, don't leave this ridge. Use your stand to scan if you have to. I'll be back in a couple minutes. If I'm not back in an hour, leave without me. One of us has to get back to tell the world about this."
"And where are you going?" Davis muttered out of the side of his mouth as he lay down on his stomach on the ridge, preparing to do the suggested head count.
There was no answer. Davis frowned and turned around. "Takeru? Where are you going?"
But it was useless. The blond boy had already disappeared into the darkness, as smoothly and soundlessly as a ghost.
**********
"Hunter-seekers," the stiff disapproval in Caylor's voice was evident as he surveyed the vicious-looking beasts being tended by their keepers. "And you plan to…to use these against Sai Auia?"
"Most certainly." Praetor Karensky's voice was cold as he passed by another one of the large, black beasts, who was currently gnawing away on what looked like to be the femur bone of a human. "They have proven themselves to be invaluable tools on the battlefield, and a most effective instrument for inspiring terror."
Locke looked at the beasts with distaste. One hunter-seeker glared back. Its large black body was as lined and muscular as a lion's, with the tips of razor-sharp, snow-white claws glittering in their sheaths. The tail of the beast swished dangerously as its ermine fur shimmered under the light of the fire-torches. The animal's fiery red eyes narrowed dangerously as it regarded the Centurion, its coiled muscles and curved spine making it looking like it was always about to spring.
"Forgive me Praetor," Locke began carefully. "But hunter-seekers have been known to attack friendly troops to get at the enemy. Once they sense battle, they become completely uncontrollable, even to their masters…"
"My army can control them," Karensky said, waving an arm arrogantly.
"Sir, what has been the number of casualties that your army suffered in 'controlling' these hunter-seekers?" Locke's voice masked a steely anger.
Karensky's face went purple. "Are you suggesting that-"
"Praetor Karensky," Locke began evenly. "It is my belief that when you use a beast to fight for a warrior, you take something away from the warrior. And when someone continues to use that beast, even when it is to the detriment to his army, one begins to wonder- "
"Enough!" the Praetor roared. "Centurion, if you were in my army, I would-"
"Be silent Karensky," Caylor said softly.
"Are you presuming to lecture me as- "
"Be silent!" Caylor thundered. Karensky closed his mouth immediately at the terrible authority in the other's words. In fact, the entire assembly of officers fell silent as well, all eyes turning to the dark lord.
Caylor did not appear to notice them. Instead, his masked face seemed to be looking straight to their left. Is something wrong with the soldiers? Locke thought as he followed his commander's gaze. But no, Caylor was looking up as well.
Up at the cliffs that flanked their encampment.
But try as Locke might, he could see nothing except moonlit rocks and darkness. There was nothing there, nothing that could possibly catch Caylor's attention. Turning back, puzzled, the Centurion frowned.
Was that a faint blue glow surrounding his superior?
Then abruptly, the Praetor turned and began walking at a brisk pace. He studiously refrained from staring at the cliffs. "Centurion." Caylor's voice held a masked edge of steel. "Take a unit of soldiers. No less than twenty men, all armed. I want you to do a thorough sweep of the south-western cliffs over there. No, don't stare at it right now. Go quietly, go quickly, and take no fire-torches. In fact, I want you to use stealth-cloaks. Leave no stone unturned."
Locke was puzzled by the cryptic command, but he hid it. His faith in Caylor was absolute. "Sir…what are we looking for?"
"You are looking for a spy. If you do find one, I want you to treat that warrior with the absolute caution. He is to be considered extremely dangerous. I want him captured. Preferably alive, but dead if necessary. I'd suggest you bring quarter-staffs as well as your swords."
Locke nodded without hesitation. "Understood sir." Caylor turned his head to regard the Centurion as Locke shimmered, blurred, and disappeared completely from view into the surrounding darkness. The Praetor's sharp ears heard the barely perceptible footsteps receding at a run as Locke sprinted off to do his master's bidding.
"Did you see something?" Karensky said as he squinted at the south-western cliffs.
"Praetor, the 'do not stare' order applies to you as well."
Karensky reddened, but he tore his gaze off the cliffs. "Well?" he growled. "Did you see something?"
Caylor flexed his sword hand ominously. "See? No. I didn't see anything. Not in the normal sense anyway…"
**********
The Khaydarin sentry paced along the perimeter with his spear slung over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the dark desert cliffs passively. Stepping around a large fire that some soldiers had built, he nodded at the stationery guards, but kept going.
As he wandered away from the light of the campfires, his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The stars provided all the light he needed, so he pressed on. His circuit took him almost a hundred meters out from the nearest guard post. But then, that was the job of the patrol sentry. To keep watch where the light failed to reach.
Sitting down on a nearby rock, he pulled a hip-flask from his belt and took a draught of water. All the time, he never laid down his weapon. A year in Caylor's army, living in the field had taught the soldier this. Vigilance was crucial. It was the first lesson that had been drummed into the soldiers on the first day, and it had not faded. The ones that had forgotten were all dead.
Then, as he raised the hip-flask again, his hand froze. What was that? A flash of darkness, a barely perceptible twitching of the brush and short foliage on the side of the canyon. Frowning, the soldier closed his hip-flask, and picked up his spear.
"Who goes there?" he called out loudly.
There was no response. The soldier stared into the brush for several moments. It's probably only an animal, he thought to himself. A coyote, nothing more. But the gnawing sense of insecurity did not leave. Holding his spear at the ready, he slowly ventured even further out into the darkness, into the brush.
If it was an animal, then all he'd lose would be a few minutes on his circuit, he thought to himself as he waded through the knee-high, dusty grass into the deep shadow of the trees. But if there really is something…
A hard palm slammed into his chest.
Whatever else the soldier was, he was well-trained. The sentry's breath left his lungs in an instant, but his armour absorbed the brunt of the blow. Instead of a crushing blow focused down to a point (which would most likely have killed him), his entire chest took the impact. Resisting the urge to double over, the soldier instantly swung his staff out to the left, where the blow had come from, expecting to hear the cry of his enemy as he connected.
Instead, the blow was swept away easily in a classic round-house block. In the darkness, the sentry could not quite see his assailant properly, but he saw enough to hazard a guess as to his location. Striking out with his fist, the sentry broke his enemy's grip on the spear, spun around, and thrust hard at where he thought his enemy's head should be.
With the speed of a serpent, he felt a hand slap the thrust away, twist, and neatly grab the spear right behind the spearhead. Yanking hard, the mysterious attacker jerked the spear half out of the sentry's grip, and slammed the heel of his right palm into the shaft. A muffled crack broke out as the spear snapped cleanly in half. And before the Khaydarin soldier could blink, his assailant had slipped in close and landed three devastating blows on his chest and stomach, so fast it seemed like one.
Khaydarin armour or not, the sentry felt that attack like a sledgehammer. Flying backwards, he slammed into a nearby tree causing motes of dead bark and leaves to come raining down. Stunned, he slumped to the ground as he gasped for breath, barely conscious, as he looked up.
For a moment, the dark figure standing before him did nothing. Then slowly, the assailant stepped into the moonlight. The soldier blinked.
His attacker could be no more than fifteen years old. The hood of his black cloak had fallen off in the scuffle, and the soldier could see the boy's platinum blond hair shining silver in the moonlight. Then the soldier stiffened as he saw the katana strapped to the boy's side. The boy was armed, yet he had not drawn his blade.
"What…what do you want?" the soldier wheezed. His chest was afire with agony. He had at least one cracked rib. Probably more.
The boy was silent at first. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, but deadly grim. "I doubt you can yell after that blow, but if you try, I'll kill you before you get the first word out. Understood?"
Wide-eyed, the soldier nodded. He was at the mercy of this boy now, and they both knew it.
"Khaydarin, huh?" the boy said as he took his gaze off the soldier for a moment, to look at the slim object he held in his left hand. "What a distinctive sword design. I wielded one of these once. Didn't like it. Too curved."
With a start, the soldier recognized his own scimitar. Scrambling, his hand felt his side where his scabbard should have been. There was nothing there. "That's my sword!"
"Not anymore it isn't." The blond boy strapped the sword and scabbard to his belt. His cold blue eyes flickered back to the soldier, drilling into his gaze. "Now…I want you to tell me exactly how many soldiers this army has. Who's commanding it. What you're armed with. And what are your long-range plans. Where are you marching. I want to hear everything."
The soldier sneered at the boy. "Svok stavik," he spat in Rek'hessen.
"Go 'f*ck' yourself. Don't push your luck. I can kill you in twelve different ways before you can finish your next sentence."
"Oh go to he-"
In a blur, the boy's foot shot forwards, stopping a millimeter from the man's nose. For a second, the soldier stared cross-eyed at the halted blow. Then before the hapless sentry could blink, the boy withdrew his foot, and aimed a vicious snap-kick to a rock inches from the man's head.
The solid granite exploded into a million fragments. Several jagged fragments sliced across the man's cheek. Wide-eyed, he stared at the rock, now reduced to pebble-sized pieces of stone. Trembling despite himself, he looked back up at the cold blue eyes of the mysterious youth.
"Now…about those questions…"
**********
Davis swore viciously, using oaths he had not used in years. Takeru was good. He had only let his gaze wander for a moment, let his vigilance waver, and the "Kurtalian farm boy" was gone. He had no idea where to. For all he knew, Takeru might be already reporting to the Khaydarin army that he was hidden at this ridge-top.
But that didn't make sense. He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow as he thought. If Takeru wanted to take him, he could just do it himself. Takeru was a stand-master, and from what Davis had seen, definitely a formidable opponent. Surely, there was no-one down there that could do a better job than Takeru himself?
Was there? A shiver ran down Davis' spine. Were there more stand-masters on Khaydarin's side?
Regardless, Davis decided to play it cautious. Good or bad, Takeru was right about one thing. Someone had to get to the outside world to report this. Quickly, Davis got up, left his position at the ridge, ran along the edge, and settled down elsewhere. An uprising of rock that offered him a clear view of both the Khaydarin encampment, and his former hiding spot. If someone came for him, he would know it.
His mind raced as he did some quick calculations in his head. Even if Takeru was reporting this to his superiors, it would be at least twenty minutes before anyone came looking, accounting for Takeru's trip down to the bottom, and the soldiers' trip up. Fifteen at the very least, if they could get a squad together on such short notice. And Davis intended to use that time. So for now, he stayed where he was, trying to commit as many details about the army as he could. He had to admit that Takeru was right about another thing. A head count was a good idea.
This was undeniably Khaydarin. Even asleep, Davis could tell that the encampment was a proper military army. This was not a bandit army that had gotten their hands on Khaydarin merchandise. Thieves were haphazard and undisciplined. Success and promotion was based on how treacherous one could get. But here, the sentries were disciplined and alert. Patrols were orderly and efficient. Even asleep, the entire camp ran like a machine.
And the cages to the north end of the encampment worried him. There were at least twenty of them, but the dimensions were all wrong for human occupation. They were far too low, but the iron bars were as thick as his forearm. If he strained his eyes, Davis could make out movement within those cages. Once in awhile, a low howl would reach his ears. He longed to go find out what the hell were in those cages, but he didn't dare risk it. Instead, he stayed on the ridge, and observed some more.
Perhaps if the brown-haired boy had been less intent on his observations, he might have heard the soft scuffle of footsteps behind him. Even if he had turned around, he would have seen nothing anyway, but his acute sense of hearing might have help him hear the slight swish of cloaks. But all of his stand-enhanced senses were absorbed with trying to commit every detail of the encampment before him to memory.
And so, the heavy quarter-staff end that crashed into the back of his skull took him completely by surprise.
**********
Under the cover of darkness, Takeru blanched as he heard the soldier recite his answers. "Sai Auia?" he whispered, repeating the man's words. "You're planning to destroy Sai Auia?"
The man smirked. "Yeah. And with Praetor Karensky's hunter-seekers, nothing can stop us. Not even you, boy."
"Hunter-seekers?"
At this, the man fell silent, realizing he had given away more than he had to. Takeru, frowning, stepped up menacingly to the man, one hand on the hilt of his Ishidan katana.
"All right, all right!" the man said finally, eyeing the inch or so of naked steel that Takeru had drawn. "Hunter-seekers are…are attack beasts that we use. And once unleashed, they're completely unstoppable. They won't stop until every last target has been killed…"
"Is that what you used against Maran?" Takeru said, his soft voice harsher than usual. "Against those villagers back there?"
The soldier's gaze did not leave Takeru's sword. "Yes," he said.
"Merde," Takeru said through gritted teeth. His sword hand twitched. "You bastards…"
"Hey, don't kill me! I just follow orders!"
With a deep breath, the blond boy controlled his rising temper with a Herculean mental effort. It had been Khaydarin that had attacked Maran. It had been the marks of hunter-seekers that they had found. So it meant Khaydarin had also planted…
"What about that Sheid?"
"What about Sheid?" The soldier repeated, looking genuinely confused. "What about them? They're not here, they're somewhere up north, aren't they?"
"Then you planted that uniform!"
This time, the sentry looked frightened. "I don't know about that, honest! Maybe we did, maybe we didn't! They only tell me what I need to know!"
Takeru felt his hand reflexively clench the hilt of his sword. All the pieces were falling into place now. Taken together, the remains of Maran and Sai Auia would make it look like a Sheid invasion force had tried to penetrate Ichijoujan borders. It was a daring move that would not work with any other Gaean army, simply because they would never get away with it. Like any other major city, Sai Auia was surrounded by many people who loved outside the city walls. There would inevitably be witnesses.
The stealth cloaks changed all that. With that item, the Khaydarin army could travel literally undetected. Once again, Khaydarin was rewriting the rules of warfare, just as they had five hundred years ago.
But still, did they really believe that they could get away with…
Then suddenly, his train of thought was broken as his head almost exploded with pain. He gasped with agony as the back of his head felt like it was being split apart. For several seconds, he could see nothing except a red haze, with flickering stars at the edge of his vision. The soldier stared wide-eyed at the boy before him who suddenly appeared to be having a crippling migraine.
Then as suddenly as the pain had started, it was gone as Takeru slammed down his mental shields. The agony had faded away to a dull ache. Shakily, Takeru drew another breath, and put a hand to the back of his head. There was no blood there. There was no wound on his head. Which meant the pain he had felt was not his. Which meant…
"Davis…," Takeru breathed. Kari had said almost the exact same thing had happened to her the first time Takeru had "snapped", or transmitted. She had felt like she was being skewered through the shoulder as well.
Davis was in mortal danger. He was certain of it.
Looking down at the soldier, still slumped against the tree, Takeru couldn't help but notice how young he was. He couldn't be more than three years older than himself. He could almost hear Davis lecturing him. The logical thing would be to kill the sentry. Leave no traces, leave no evidence. Besides, if he didn't kill him, if it ever got out that the soldier had confessed what he had, the sentry's remaining lifespan could be measured in hours anyway.
That was the logical thing. But then, as Kari always said, he was not a logical person.
"Tell them you told me nothing," he told the startled soldier. "Just say I grew frustrated, and I knocked you out." And with that, he clipped the soldier neatly on the side of the head with his sheathed sword. The man went out like a light.
But Takeru didn't stay around to watch it happen. Even before the soldier had crumpled completely to the ground, the blond boy was already melting into the darkness, flitting like a wraith to climb back up the ravine, and reach Davis.
**********
Even with his head feeling like it was about to split apart, Davis Motomiya was still a dangerous fighter.
Writhing like an animal, the boy immediately kicked out with his feet, sweeping the feet of the Khaydarin solder behind right out from beneath him. Even as Davis spun around on his back, his hand automatically sought out the hidden kodachi strapped to his forearm and unsheathed it. And before the rest of Locke's squad could help their downed comrade, Davis had slashed the man's throat wide open, slicing the razor blade across the trachea, and wrenching upwards into the jugular. The resulting wound was jagged, and completely beyond closing. Davis was on his feet, dagger at the ready, before the fountain of hot blood claimed the man's last breath.
But he saw nothing. There was no-one there. For several seconds, Davis peered suspiciously into the darkness, looking all around him. Slowly, his free hand began drawing his other dagger…
A hard blow slammed into his right forearm, and Davis cried out as his entire arm went numb. His nerveless hand dropped the weapon. Something materialized behind him with all the suddenness of lightning, and grabbed his arms. The butt end of a spear was thrust hard into his stomach, making the young boy double over in pain, gasping for breath.
Through his rapidly dimming vision, the boy watched amazed as at least twenty men materialized out of the nothingness in front of him, throwing their cloaks back. Moonlight glittered off naked scimitars and steel spearheads of the Khaydarin soldiers. Then the spear struck him again, this time a crunching blow to the side of the head. And as he fell unrepentant into unending blackness, one last thought flashed through his mind…
Curse you Takeru Takaishi. Damn you to hell, you traitorous backstabber. At least I'll bring Kari with me…
**********
Takeru swore softly under his breath as he felt Davis' mind presence fade away abruptly. Quickly, he lifted his mental shield, tuning his sensitivity back up. When he still detected nothing, he desperately increased his speed, sprinting flat-out across the arid canyon floor towards the cliff wall in the south-west. Davis fading away could mean one of two things. He had been knocked out, or…
Takeru refused to think about it.
Slipping through the tall grass, Takeru quickly scaled the short rock wall, then ran the rest of the way up a steep canyon path. Negotiating a small cut in the rock, he leapt and rolled up to the ridge, and began running along the top, sticking to the shadows where he could. And where he couldn't, he trusted in his dark robe to keep him hidden. Time was of the essence. Completely invisible in the darkness, he was like the shadow of a swiftly moving cloud, passing along the land.
Presently, he skidded to a stop at the little alcove where he had left Davis. He cast around frantically, but there was nothing there. For several moments, he ran around the cliff, trying to find any clues that might suggest where Davis was right now.
Then he heard a muffled groan to his right, further along the cliff. He stared in the direction, hesitating for only a second. Then he was off again, this time at a more conservative speed. Trying to control his breathing, he peered around the edge of a large boulder.
Davis was lying on the ground, his hands and feet tied up. Unconscious or dead, Takeru couldn't tell. An entire squad of Khaydarin soldiers were standing around the fallen Taelidani boy, talking in low tones. Takeru quickly scanned the entire area with his stand.
As far as he could tell, there were no cloaked soldiers around. They didn't know the blond prince was here.
Then his eyes fell upon the fallen figure of Davis again. Desperately, he focused in on Davis' face with his stand, trying to get any sign, any indication, that the Taelidani was still living. After a tense moment, relief surged through the boy as he saw the brown-haired youth's chest rise and fall slightly. Davis was still alive.
He quickly took stock of their surroundings. The ridge was relatively bare and flat, except for the scattering of broken rock and boulders to the left, among which he now hid. To the right of the alcove, there was a collection of small trees and brush. And back from the ridge was the rear of the mountain, which the two of them had scaled nearly an hour before. Their horses, and freedom, lay in that direction. Suddenly, Davis groaned and shifted, as if he was beginning to regain consciousness. One of the men kicked him savagely, and he doubled over soundlessly.
Takeru's blue eyes narrowed dangerously until they resembled jagged chips of ice. Pulling his hood back off his head, he drew his sword from its sheath, and assumed a distinctive stance. But instead of holding the sword in his right hand, he held it with his left.
With the fluidity and grace of long practice, Takeru oriented himself sideways, left sword arm drawing back into a thrusting position, wrist straight and blade level with his jaw, right hand forward to brace the tip of the blade. The sword slipped into position across his body, turning into a deadly arrow aimed at the nearest soldier. Leaning backwards, his body coiled into a deadly spring.
Kenjitsu offensive stance number one. Tenkei stance, Gatotsu1 derivative. The distinctive but deadly left-handed thrust. With one exception. Takeru had flipped his sword around. The now upwards-facing sharp edge gleamed silver in the moonlight.
Slowly, the blond boy held up his left hand towards the stand of trees on the right side of the ridge.
"Tenshi2," he whispered. "Stand by me now…"
A muffled explosion rang out.
**********
Locke didn't know what happened.
One moment he had taken prisoner the spy that Praetor Caylor had said would be there. He had been surprised by the spy's young age. But then, he had learned long ago that age was not an indication of a warrior's effectiveness. And he had been proven correct, the proof of which lay in the body of the soldier who had been careless enough to attack without orders. Several of his own squad soldiers had been all for killing the boy right then and there, but Locke had insisted upon taking the mysterious spy alive.
Then, a small explosion had rattled the trees on their right. Instinctively, Locke, and most of his soldiers, had turned that way. It had been a mistake.
In two seconds flat, half of them were down for the count. Several never saw what hit them, as a dark thunderbolt struck them down where they stood. Wherever the shadow's flashing sword struck, soldiers screamed and dropped, some literally flying through the air from the force of the slash, tumbling down the steep incline to the canyon below. And even as the other half began to come to their senses and draw their weapons, the cyclone among them had already smashed several of their swords to smithereens.
One soldier stabbed wildly at the shifting, robed form. In amazement, he watched the spear score a direct hit, plunging into mysterious attacker. "I got him!" he yelled triumphantly.
You got me? Really? Watch this.
A moment later, the soldiers' elation turned to confusion an instant later as the cloth draped loosely over his spear-head. The Khaydarin sentry looked around wildly as he tossed the shed cloak away. "What the-"
Then the base of Takeru's sword-hilt struck the man a swift blow to the head. The soldier went down without a sound, his spear clattering to the ground. "Good thing you didn't rip it," Takeru said almost casually as he stood behind the fallen man, dressed in only his sleeveless under-tunic. "I loved that robe."
"Cloak!" Locke screamed at his remaining soldiers. "Cloa- "
Then he choked in terror as the mysterious attacker's face suddenly came into the light of the moon. He had only seen it once, but those few minutes of terror had burned it so deeply into his memory, he would never forget it. "You!!"
The blond boy frowned as he paused in his attack. Looking around wildly, Locke realized that all of his men were down.
"I don't believe we've met," the boy said lightly. Then, advancing in a blur upon the centurion, the youth raised his katana high above his head. The blade caught the sheen of the moon, coming alive with reflected fire like a well-cut diamond.
Fumbling with his own weapon, Locke drew his own scimitar, and raised it as well, trying desperately to parry. So intent was he on blocking the upheld katana that he never saw the butt end of Takeru's sheath, speeding upwards to meet his chin…
Crack.
Takeru watched impassively as the Centurion before him crumpled to the ground. Slowly, he lowered his katana, which he had never intended to use, and shrugged. He hadn't really expected such an obvious ploy to work. The Battousai technique had never worked on Richard.
But then, Richard had been much better than this guy.
Quickly sheathing his sword, he sprinted over to where Davis lay, quickly picking up and donning his cloak along the way. "Davis?" he said urgently as he shook the boy. "Davis? Are you all right? Speak to me!"
"Mmm…," Davis mumbled incoherently.
"Davis! Wake up!"
Slowly and with great difficulty, Davis shook his head, and tried to sit up. The back of his head was matted with blood, and there was a nasty gash across his temple. All he had been aware of was some vague screams, a lot of scuffling noise, as if a fight had been going on. "My head feels like someone tried to prise it open with a crowbar…"
"I know," Takeru said feverishly as he began sawing away at Davis's bonds with the Taelidani dagger the boy had dropped. The back of his head still ached. "But we have to get out of here!" he added urgently as he peered over the edge.
Then Davis seemed to wake up completely. As he recognized the voice, he peered over to see Takeru hacking away at his bindings. "You!" he said in an amazed voice. "You came back!"
Takeru gritted his teeth as the camp was coming alive with alarmed yells and shouts. More soldiers were pouring out of their tents and readying their weapons. Another squad was already scaling their way up the mountain.
"Of course I came back," he said in irritation. "What did you think I was going to do? Go join Khaydarin?! Did you complete the head count?"
Davis rubbed his head slowly. As he looked around, he saw no less than twenty Khaydarin bodies, dead or alive, he couldn't tell. And as he noticed Takeru was breathing slightly harder than usual, his mind came up with the obvious conclusion. A wave of guilt crashed over him. "Yeah. You're not going to believe it."
"How many?" Takeru watched the approaching soldiers urgently as he continued to hack at the stubborn ropes. He already knew the answer, but he hoped against hope that the soldier had been lying…
"Around a thousand two hundred."
"Merde," Takeru swore viciously. The soldier had not been lying. An army numbering one thousand two hundred! A military force of that magnitude had not been assembled for centuries. Then he snarled as the last ropes slid free. Pulling the entangling cords away, he spoke urgently. "Can you run?"
Davis slowly flexed his limbs. "Nothing broken, near as I can tell…"
"Then come on!" Takeru yelled as he dragged the boy upright. The first squad was nearly up onto the ridge by now. "Let's move- "
Abruptly, the blond boy stopped in mid-sentence. Turning around, he slashed twice with his sword. Two Khaydarin soldiers shrieked as their cloaks were shredded, rippling back into view. Two more blows, one with the hilt of his sword, and one with his fist, and both soldiers dropped to join the growing mound of bodies on the ground.
"Davis, there are more of them, scaling that ridge right now!"
"Okay…okay…," Davis said as he desperately tried to lever himself upright. But his legs trembled and started to give way. Takeru grabbed Davis's arm and half carried, half dragged him towards freedom.
"Come on…if we can get to our horses, we'll be home free! They don't have anything that can catch- "
Then several arrows hissed over the edge of the ridge. Seeing the shafts approach, Davis threw himself behind Takeru to shield the blond boy, and choked as he felt one fiery shaft stab deep into his back. Gritting his teeth, he reached behind him, and yanked it out without breaking stride. The arrow wound wasn't nearly as serious as it could have been, as the arrow's flight was nearly spent.
But it sure hurt.
Beside him, Takeru gave him an incredulous stare. But there was no time to question what he had done. More war-cries sounded out as the yelling soldiers finally crested the ridge.
"Move Davis!" Takeru shouted as he glanced behind him. "Keep moving!"
Davis broke into a run as he snapped the arrow that had struck him in half. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see the soldiers giving chase, several stringing more arrows onto bows. And at this angle and distance, any arrow that struck his back would not simply sting. It would go straight through.
Then he reached the edge of the cliff, and looked around wildly for the path they had taken. "There!" he shouted as he pointed to the right. "We have to climb down!"
Beside him, Takeru shot a quick glance backwards as well. And in a moment, he knew it was useless. Without ropes, they could not rappel down. And climbing down would leave them completely exposed to a well-aimed arrow for ten minutes at least. The archers would have an easy time of it.
And so they would not climb down.
"Do you trust me?!" he shouted as he grabbed Davis's arm.
"What?!"
"Do you trust me?!"
Davis looked into Takeru's blue eyes. The blue eyes of the boy he had been so certain was out to kill him only moments before. He looked into those eyes, and took a huge leap of faith.
"Yes!"
A ghost of a smile flickered across Takeru's face, and the blue eyes warmed slightly in gratitude.
"Then whatever you do, hold on!!"
And without another word, Takeru, still with Davis's arm in a steel grip, turned and leapt off the cliff.
For a heart-stopping moment, Davis thought the world had frozen. His breath caught in his throat as he plummeted downwards off the sheer drop like a comet. The wind howled in his ears as he dropped, the rocky ground rushing up to meet them. The jagged cliff flew by in a blur beside him, seeming like a stream of ceaseless dark brown and black, and he was suffused by a deceptive sense of stillness as he "flew".
Beside him, Davis was dimly aware of Takeru raising his other arm up towards the sky. Then time snapped back as an explosion of golden light flashed from the blond boy's outstretched hand. As Takeru summoned his stand, the angel appeared, one hand clasping the young stand-master's wrist, even as all six wings spread out wide.
The fall slowed abruptly. And then, Davis realized with a jolt, they truly were flying. Takeru was holding onto his stand's gauntleted arm, and Davis was holding onto Takeru. And above them both, the angel-stand flexed its wings like some oversized bird of prey, its snow-white wings gracefully beating the air as all three of them glided gently downwards.
Then they were skimming the ground. Davis looked down apprehensively at the speeding sands until Takeru yelled, "Davis! Let go!"
Without hesitation, the Taelidani let go, hit the ground, tucking and rolling to absorb the impact on the side of his body. A short distance away, Davis heard Takeru also landing on the sands. The golden glow disappeared as Takeru reigned in his stand. Then the brown-haired boy was up on his feet. Running for all he was worth for the hunting horses he had tied up earlier.
When the pair of stand-masters got there, Davis fumbled with the knots, but Takeru shook his head. "No time!" he shouted, drawing his sword and severing the ropes with one slash. Quickly, both stand-masters promptly mounted their horses, and urged the steeds forward. Both hunting horses took off like twin arrows from a crossbow, their hooves pounding the sand. Laughing and whooping, Takeru and Davis rode off into the night, leaving the dazed Khaydarin encampment in their wake.
**********
On top of the ridge, Caylor watched impassively as the two horses galloped off into the inky darkness. All around him, Khaydarin soldiers tended to the wounded, or the unconscious as they came to with groans of pain. Centurion Locke was being treated by a field medic. The place was a scene of confusion.
Amazingly, only one soldier had been killed. Apparently, he had been fool enough to sneak up on a stand-master without backup, and had paid for it with his life. But aside from that, there were no casualties. Caylor had not believed it at first, until he had seen one of the injuries for himself. Then, he had understood. The slash mark had ripped apart clothes and leather armour, and there were several broken bones, but no serious bleeding.
Whoever had attacked had turned his katana around so that he struck with nothing but the dull side. It had been deliberate. Someone had been trying to spare his soldier's lives.
Takeru…, the Praetor mused silently. According to Locke, that someone had been Takeru. He tilted his head as he mulled it over. The boy was a mystery, an enigma, and a dangerous one at that. All warriors fought to protect something, be it his home, his loved ones, or even something as abstract as a cause. A belief or a philosophy. It was what distinguished a warrior from a mere fighter.
But Takeru had lost everything. With Ishida destroyed, Kurtal razed, and Vargas dead, the boy had nothing to fight for anymore. He had no obligations to anyone. Any misguided sense of duty should have died out long ago.
And yet he fought anyway. He fought fiercely. Not in the aimless, crazed manner of a lost man, but with singular purpose and aim.
What is driving you now Takeru? Caylor wondered. What do you fight for? And why did you spare my men's lives?
"Should we pursue?" Karensky said as he appeared next to Caylor. He too was gazing at the receding figures.
Caylor paused for a moment before he made his decision. "No."
"Caylor, if we dispatch now, we could still catch them!"
"Those were hunting horses. We don't have anything that could catch up to them in sheer speed, or anything that can match their stamina."
"Perhaps if we track them- "
Caylor laughed mirthlessly. "Those two were stand-masters, Karensky. Stand-masters! It will take more than a simple tracking squad to defeat them. And diverting more troops than that right before a major attack is impossible."
Karensky looked incensed. "We can't just let them get away!"
"Sai Auia and Ken remains our first priority," Caylor said softly. "And if that means letting two spies go, then we'll swallow our pride, and do it. Besides," he added with a hint of a smile as he turned back out to survey the dark wasteland. "I have a feeling we'll be meeting soon enough…"
Beside him, Karensky turned around and stormed off. Caylor stood on the ridge for a long time afterwards, gazing out at the darkness. Then slowly, he raised his flat hand to his temple.
"Takeru, I salute you," he whispered to the night. "Consider my decision not to pursue my thanks for not killing my men. We are now even. Next time we meet," Caylor's eyes glittered beneath his mask. "I will personally see to it that you will not walk away alive."
** Author's notes:
- Gatotsu. Be honest. Who recognized the Gatotsu even before I named it? For those who have watched Kenshin, if you didn't get this, shame on you. The Gatotsu is the trademark technique of former Shinsen Gumi 3rd Division Captain Saitoh Hajime. (He turned into a policeman afterwards) Saitoh is possibly one of the most bad-ass (good?) guys I've ever seen. I just thought it would be interesting to give TK his attack. ^_^ And no, for the last time, I don't own Kenshin. Probably sometime near the end, I'll compile a list of all the special attacks / succession techniques I used in this fic. Not yet though, 'cause there are more coming in. ^_^
- Tenshi. Really, this word has been used so many times, I'm pretty sure everyone knows it by now. If not, "tenshi" means "angel" in Japanese. So in essence, TK was talking to his stand. Like you didn't know that. While we're on the subject, characters may talk to their stands. Their names may or may not resemble the digimons' names. Just be alert, and use your common sense.
(Oh, and while we're on Kenshin. The idea of flipping a sword around to strike with the dull side also came from Kenshin)
Please review! Any questions or comments? Reviews inspire me. Don't just say "I hate it", or even "I love it". Why did you love it? Tell me so I know what to put more of, and what to put less of.