Chapter Four We have to go WHERE?!

Zelgadis coughed nervously into his hand. "We were actually uh, hoping that YOU could explain this to us."

Trent shook his head in confusion. "I grew up on a continent called Lodoss. Very nasty place; eons ago it was created when the goddesses of creation and destruction were having it out. Lodoss was the ground where one had 'died,' cursing the land in the process. Then the goddess of creation snapped the land away from the main continent to keep the curse from touching the whole world. The less-than-pleasant end result being that you have ridiculous amounts of divine energy cursing a pretty small area." He groaned, rubbing his still-aching head. "Anyway, the whole point of that is that there aren't any dragons I know of there that can cross-breed with humans. Unless of course my parents kept a few secrets."

"Just your father, actually."

Lina yelped in shock at the pleasant, urbane voice behind them. Spinning, she paled as she saw what could only have been a Mazoku. "Oh source of all power..."

THWACK!

Lina groaned as she looked up at Trent. "What was THAT for?!"

Trent glared right back at her. "Try and show a little respect when gods show up."

Falaris just grinned at them. I haven't had this much fun since...hmmm. Come to think of it, I can't remember any real fun times in the past few millenia.

"God?"

Trent nodded, cracking his knuckles. "Falaris, god of night and darkness. And before you ask any questions, the reason that you've never heard of him is because he normally limits himself to my world. I'm not even sure if ANYone on this world knows about him; believe me, I checked."

Falaris allowed his stars-at-night form to fade away into a more human- looking body; he basically looked like Ashram with tanned skin. That and dressed in blue jeans and a gray turtleneck. "You didn't look QUITE hard enough, but then again I'm not aware of any records existing anywhere you could have found them." Deciding that overwhelmingly casual might help the rest of the people there accept his presence, he casually tossed himself on the ground, stretching out with his knees in the crooks of his elbows. "A long time ago, there was one, small community that worshipped me on this world. I suppose you could call them a cult, though technically they followed me as opposed to some charismatic leader."

"They were ancient dragons," Valgaav remarked. "I thought that I'd remembered hearing the name Falaris somewhere."

Falaris's eyes widened appreciatively. "Well, I'm impressed. What do you know of us?"

Valgaav shrugged. He and Filia were taking this a lot easier than the rest of them. "Not much. If I remember right, the movement and the group that followed you was officially disapproved of, but as they never commited any crimes or such they were never actively persecuted."

Falaris nodded. "Quite true. No one tried any moves against them until slighly less than a thousand years ago. Just after the war of the monsters fall."

Filia winced, but nodded. "When the golden dragons all but wiped them out."

Falaris nodded, quite pragmatic about it. "Yes, rather unpleasant way to go about securing your power, but I was just as bad at one point so I won't pass judgment. Anyway, I never went out of my way to appear before your people. Any guesses as to how they found out about me in the first place?"

Gourry's fist impacted his palm. "I know! You sent some of your people here and they told the dragons about it!"

Lina stared at him. "Gourry...did you just make a logical conclusion?"

"Huh? What's conclusion mean? Is it some kind of dumpling?"

Falaris was a god. He had stoic dignity and a strong sense of personal worth. As such, he didn't face-fault.

The mortals on the other hand had no such compulsions.

He continued after they regained their balance, (noticing that Trent had chosen to stay on the ground; the less to fall when someone made another stunning act of idiocy.) "Yes, well that's actually incorrect. There haven't been any dark elves on your world, save when Trent arrived. And he's only half elf. But I digress. The reason they worshipped me was because an artifact of my power ended up on this world a while back. A sword, opposed to the Spiritus Falis."

Trent blink-blinked. "Um, I thought Soul Crusher was the opposition of the Holy Sword."

Falaris snorted in disdain (godly dignity allowed him that much). "Please, you think a sword that was bathed in a demon's blood would be a match for a sword that had been touched by a God?"

"Then how come Ashram and I were so equally matched when we fought in Kardis's altar?" Trent persisted.

"You were equal because the sword wasn't a good choice of weapon for you," Falaris stated matter-of-factly. "Ashram had been spending months learning to control and master Soul Crusher, you'd had all of two days to try and master the holy sword. So of course Ashram would be better with his weapon of choice. The Holy Sword was just powerful enough that even operating at a lower power it could oppose Soul Crusher. The REAL opposing sword of darkness could shatter that demon sword in one blow."

Lina wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth. She recalled Trent saying something about how Soul Crusher could destroy entire armies on its own. The thought of a sword even stronger was nothing to sneeze at. And if I can get my hands on some of the darkstar weapons after that... She zoned out into fantasies of herself with unlimited food and gold and just about everything else imaginable.

Ignoring the knowing looks that Zelgadis and Amelia had on their faces, Trent continued. "Okay, what and where?"

"The 'what' is the sword, Sanguis Falaris."

Trent swallowed nervously at the words. "'The blood of darkness?'"

Falaris nodded. "The sword is a claymore; maybe five feet long from point to pommel, the blade about three and a half feet long. When it was first forged, it was tempered in a tiny amount of my own blood, let from the equivalent of a paper-cut. Not much, but enough to equal the power of Falis's Breath."

Trent coughed nervously. It was a well-known fact that pain and bloodshed were sources of power. Bleeding released vast amounts of manna, energy that a sorcerer could use. That was the whole basis of necromancy and demonic magic. Granted it wasn't always EVIL; a mage could cut their own finger to squeeze blood onto a rune wand or to later pen a scroll with; it gave scads of extra energy. The though of even a few drops of blood from a god gave Trent a serious case of the willies. "Where can I find the sword? I mean, I assume that I'm supposed to go look for it."

Falaris nodded. "Of course I want you to go look for it. You're the only one on this planet who worships me; you're the only one who can use it."

That was enough to break Lina out of her torpor/dreams. "Huh? Hey, wait a minute! I follow the Lord of Nightmares kinda sorta, would that be enough?"

Falaris stared at her tiredly as opposed to sweat-dropping. "Listen, Trent is the only one who can even TOUCH the thing. First of all, he's the only one with my blessing to use it, and he needs either mine or the blessing of the person who wielded it before him. Secondly, it was a treasure of the Ancient Dragons, and he's one of two people who exist that HAVE any claim to what was once their's."

Trent raised a hand. "Wait a minute, I'm still kind of confused. You've explained WHY this world's ancient dragons had anything to do with you, but that doesn't explain a thing about how I have any kind of dragon's blood."

Falaris sighed. "When the golden dragons attacked (wince from Filia), the small group who worshipped me asked for my help. Most of them stayed behind to try and stop the attacks or guard the sword, but one of them I sent to Lodoss. His name was Sirius."

Trent gaped. "My FATHER was an ancient dragon?! That's...that's..." he paused, as memories returned of an old conversation with Fahn.

(My father faced Shooting Star alone?)

Sigh (I haven't the faintest idea what happened, but Sirius was able to harm Shooting Star enough that for the past thirty years, he has not re- emerged)

"..." Trent stared into space. "That's it," he whispered. "That's the last clue, the reason..." Shaking his head, he returned to the present. "Where is this sword?" he asked, still quiet.

Falaris winced. "That's the problem. The shrine that the dragons created to guard the sword was later removed, right down to the bedrock surrounding it. It's currently on Wolf Pack Island."

Even Xellos face-faulted at that.

"Wolf pack island?! You want us to go THERE?!" Zelgadis stared at the god incredulously.

Amelia was gibbering at the thought. "You...you actually think that this sword is important enough for us to try and brave that place?!"

"Wolf pack island?!" Gourry yelped.

Lina smacked him upside the head. "I know, you don't have the faintest clue what that means. Let me spell it out for you, okay? Wolf Pack Island is the resting place of Greater Beast Zelas Metallium, one of Shabranigdo's five lieutenants. And before you ask, they're the five beings Shabranigdo created like Gaav and Hellmaster, remember them?"

Gourry stared at her in shock. "You mean we're supposed to go and fight ANOTHER one of those guys?!"

Falaris shook his head. "Not at all. Zelas knows enough about what's in there to understand that it has to do with an unknown god; Zelas won't dare to try and meddle with it. And besides, you even have a guide who knows everything there is to know about Wolf Pack Island."

"Huh? Who?" asked Amelia.

"Him," Trent said. "Incidentally, why DID you come here Xellos?"

Lina face-faulted. "Wait a minute, you two know each other?!"

Trent shrugged. "Sure, we met a while back when I was helping a village clear out a nest of some of Gaav's left-over monsters. He was a lot of help, especially for a Mazoku."

Filia shook her head. "I still don't understand. You KNOW he's a monster; what possessed you to become friends with HIM?"

For answer, Xellos and Trent scootched together, arms over each other's shoulders. They assumed identical smiles; eyes closed, their faces bright with cheer. In EERIE syncronicity they spoke one phrase. "THAT...is a SECRET!"

Lina felt all the blood drain from her face. The thought of having to deal with Xellos times two can kind of have that effect.

Sirius was QUITE vocal as to his opinion of the whole predicament. "The darkstar weapons are a bit more important; this 'sword' of yours has kept for the past millenia, it will keep a bit longer."

Lina nodded, the color having returned to her face. "Sorry, but I'm with him. Besides, why should I go after a treasure that I can't even profit from?"

Zelgadis sighed a mushroom puff. "I suppose I should have seen that coming." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't really care one way or the other, but I WAS hired to help Filia. I suppose that I'm supposed to go with her."

Trent shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm headed for the island." He turned to give the other Sirius an odd look. "Incidentally, why bother to go after the three remaining weapons? As I understand it, this usurper or whatever needs them more than you; he'll come for them himself."

Valgaav grinned. "If you're going to the island, I'm afraid I'll be tagging along. After all, SOMEONE needs to teach you about being a dragon. You need to fully understand your new abilities if they're to be of any use to you."

Filia nodded firmly. "I'm going to."

"WHAT?!" yelped Jilis.

Filia nodded decisively. "I'm still Valgaav's guardian. And as he's fully capable of making decisions for himself, I'll be joining him."

Valgaav shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Jilis stared at the ancient dragon with teary eyes. "Boss...you came back!"

Trent sweat-dropped as the fox-man began bawling hysterically all over Valgaav. Ooo-kay. Suppose there's an explanation for that somewhere. He turned to regard the rest of them. "So what about the rest of you?"

Sirius snarled irritably. "Unfortunately, I don't stand much of a chance against the forces that will hunt me for the weapons. If most of you are going to this island, I'm forced to join you."

Lina shrugged. She didn't really care about what happened one way or the other; she'd follow the weapons. "Okay then, on to the island! You coming Gourry?"

The clueless swordsman just scratched his head. "Um, sure. I guess."

Falaris gave them all a once-over; he considered what this could do to whatever was apparently some kind of trial intended for Trent. Ah well. If this isn't supposed to happen, the Almighty will derail somehow or another. Standing, he dusted off his jeans. "Oh, one last thing." His gaze turned to a certain purple-haired mazoku. "You're leading them. NO SECRETS."

Xellos's grin turned slightly strained. "None at all? Come, that could be rather unpleasant, couldn't it? I mean, what if they demand information on something I've been ordered not to tell? Not," he hastily added, "that your word takes a bit of precedence. I just mean that some of my secrets might prove...unpleasant to them."

The god of night sighed. "Fine then, be reasonable. No secrets save anything that lord beastmaster has forbidden, or that was forbidden by yourself just out of assumption. Otherwise, nothing. Deal?"

Xellos bowed formally. "Perfectly satisfactory."

Lina shuddered as Falaris faded away. There was just something so...OFF about Xellos being polite and effacing and completely honest. Next thing she'd see Naga start wearing real clothing.

Speaking of whom...

"Oh my love, to think that you must brave the rigours and horrors of the mazoku for that which you hold dear," she ranted, posing dramatically. "Fear not, for I Naga the White Serpent will see to your safety!"

ZAP.

Trent stared at her singed form curiously. "Well what do you know, that spell trap actually worked. Have to research them; I could make a killing with those silly things."

Gourry stood scratching his head in thought for a while. Contrary to popular belief, he's not really a moron, or an idiot, or any other term that could be applied to a person of low intelligence. Similar to Ranma Saotome, he's just hyper-focused. He's just devoted so much of his time, energy, and effort towards successfully learning swordsmanship that he never bothered to study anything else. He seems stupid mainly because the subjects that come up he regularly doesn't understand are magic, in which his usual companions are just a scoosh more literate than him. And realistically, why would a swordsman know as much about magic as the top magical minds on the world?

As such, he could more often than not come up with decent questions and such; he made some of his comments deliberately moronic just to get rises out of Lina; she'd come to expect it of him. "Hey Lina, this place we're going to is an island, right?"

Lina sighed. "Yes, it's an island Gourry. That's why it's CALLED wolf pack island."

The swordsman nodded. "About how far away is it?"

Lina paused, trying to remember on the maps she kept. "Um, a few hundred leagues if I remember right."

Gourry nodded. "How are we going to get there? I mean, you guys can't fly that far with that Ray-something spell."

Lina waved it off. "Oh, that's no problem; we can just have Filia and Valgaav fly us there."

Valgaav's eyes approached a state closer to anger than he'd taken for quite a while. "And what, PRECISELY, makes you think that Filia and I are a pair of mindless pack animals?"

Trent grinned at the sorceress's discomfiture. And she wonders why Xellos and I get along. "I assume that we'll be buying a boat," he cut it.

Zelgadis frowned at him. "Why buy? We can charter a boat for a fraction of the cost."

Xellos grinned back. "What I think Trent's trying to say is that there aren't all that many ship captains willing to transport us to the citadel of a mazoku lord. And even if we find one who'd be willing, I sincerely doubt that the cost would be less than the one of the boat. Buying really will be the best option we can take."

"More to the point," Filia spoke up, glaring at Lina, "what kind of reception do you think a pair of dragons are going to get flying onto that island?"

Sirius internally moaned. It had been bad enough that he'd needed their help; he actually felt a great deal of sympathy for this world, and giving Lina and co. any excuse to go on an adventure tended to require cartographic changes. His main concern was Lina herself; according to something Zelgadis had told him before he left, she had once dragon-slaved an entire group of bandits for no reason other than that they had seen her embarrass herself.

Besides which, that Naga character was giving him a headache.

--------

"WHY are we doing this again?" Trent asked, to no one in particular.

Amelia gave him a curious look. "Why are we doing what?"

Trent sighed irritably. They'd been riding in this cramped little wagon for over three days now, and he was starting to get very irritated. Mostly do to the nigh-endless interference and seduction attempts by a certain under-clad sorceress. As it was, the longest he'd gone without his Spell Trap zapping her was precisely one hundred and seven minutes.

He'd checked.

Trent favored the princess an odd look. "WHY are we wasting our time like this? I mean, half of us can teleport. Not counting Gourry, everyone else can fly a LOT faster than this stupid horse-drawn contraption. So WHY are we taking all this time and effort to go to Atlas City?"

"Because Sirius wants us to keep a low profile," Lina grumbled from nearby. She was probably even more annoyed than Trent at the slow mode of travel. The poster girl for patience she wasn't.

Trent sighed, leaning back. He didn't really mind the travel or the used up time so much, it was just that he didn't have really anything he could DO on the wagon. He couldn't study his magic (which he'd been doing less of lately anyway), this world didn't have any stories a person could buy and read just for the fun of it, and the one time he'd tried to play his flute Sirius had informed him that if he played anymore his flute would be introduced to very dark portions of his anatomy.

Not that he'd actually succeed (Trent may not have been as experienced or powerful as him, but one thing he was confident in was his ability to dodge), but it illustrated the fact. There was nothing to do.

"Um, Trent? Can...can I talk to you for a few minutes?"

That was another source of...well, if not exactly irritation, then at least confusion. "Go right ahead," he said to the golden dragon priestess, scooting to the side to make enough room for her to sit. She'd been trying to start up conversations since he'd fought Valgaav and had the revelation of his draconic heritage. That, and she had started acting all quiet and mousey around him. He hadn't been able to understand it until Valgaav had finally dragged him to the side to explain it during one of their rest stops.

(Valgaav): Her people slaughtered the entire race of the ancient dragons with only myself and your father as exceptions, and I probably would have died of my wounds anyway.

(Trent): So what? I came from a world where I'd fought dragons myself; I don't blame her or feel any anger towards her.

(Valgaav: (Sigh.) You don't understand. She grew up knowing about the xenocide, but she'd always been told that we were these ravening beasts that had to be put down for the good of the world. Then little over a year ago, she discovered that her elders, the men and women she'd trusted more than any other, had lied to her.

(Trent): So what was the real reason?

(Valgaav): The fact of the matter was that they feared us. There were maybe a tenth as many of us as there were golden dragons, but just one of us could have defeated a thousand of them. We were a peaceful, reclusive race but they feared us anyway. And to make matters worse in their eyes, we kept a power that they could have wielded, and refused to let them even touch it. At the time they were still in fear of the monster race as well, and well...there was a lot of bad blood over it.

(Trent): I assume that this ramble comes to the reason soon.

(Valgaav): (glares at Trent) She feels responsible. To my knowledge, she's the only golden dragon who actually regrets the death of most of the ancient dragons; she's apparently decided that it's her lot in life to single-handedly atone for the crimes of her people. By that, she means to try and protect/save the few ancients left. Namely you and me.

Filia swallowed nervously. What does one say to the victim of your own xenocide? "Uh...I...I don't really know where to start."

Trent sighed. "This is about the bad blood between the two dragon races, right?" At Filia's nervous nod, Trent sighed again. As I've said before, it's kind of his trademark, or a mantra. "Filia, there's something I don't think you understand. I grew up on Lodoss, I told you that already? Okay, second of all, I'm a LOT older than I look. I mean, for a human I'd be in maybe my early twenties, but I've been around almost one hundred and forty years; members of my race typically live to be almost seven hundred years old, and only really age visibly the last fifty years or so. The important thing I'm trying to say is, I've grown up hating certain people. Golden dragons aren't among them." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been an ancient dragon since I was born, but I only found this out less than a week ago. I haven't had the time to learn to hate you. So please, don't feel the need to walk on eggshells around me."

Filia sighed. It was a big part of the problem, his nonchalance. She'd been used to dealing with Valgaav's dislike of her race in general; thankfully it didn't extend on individual basis or he'd likely have tried to kill her before now. But with Valgaav, she'd been used to dealing with not hurting him, or mentioning things that would be potentially painful for him. Trent? She hadn't the faintest idea how the elf thought; elves were nearly non-existent on this world anyway. "Um, I'm actually kind of curious. I mean, I know about you being half dragon. I know that you're a powerful sorcerer and a warrior. That's about it. Could you just tell me about yourself?"

Trent blink-blinked at that. "Um...sure, I guess." Leaning forward, he scratched his head in thought. "There's not a whole lot to tell. Like I said, I was born...well, one hundred thirty seven years ago. My mother was a dark elf, and I thought my father was; he never let his heritage slip out. I wonder if mom knew..." he shook his head. "Anyway, I digress. I had two sisters, no brothers, all of us trained as warri..." he sighed. "My father worked as a ranger, mainly a caravan guard for humans in the forest. My mother...she trained my sisters and myself in her arts. The arts of the assassin."

Filia stared at him. "You're an assassin?" Not that such a thing made her nervous. Certainly not.

Trent shrugged helplessly. "Among dark-elves, assassination was considered a fine art, just like fencing, archery, magic, or classical music. It was 'an art to be aspired to,' as she put it. Not that I'd ever known her to actually use her skills; certainly not after our births."

Filia's apprehension was still apparent. "Have...have you ever...well..."

"Did I ever use my skills?" Trent laughter turned self-mocking. "Certainly. I've fought in battles before, and I've certainly killed other people. I never hesitated to use my training for its intentions, and believe me, it gave me a rather odd concept of what constituted dirty fighting and such. Very little, when you get down to it."

"Like what," Filia asked. This was at least something he was willing to talk about; he hadn't spoken more than to complain since the journey had begun. She was starting to wonder if silence was a default mode for him.

Trent shrugged again. "What I was taught was simple. There is nothing that should be unexpected; assume that every single opponent you face will sneak around, try and stab you in the back, kick sand in your eyes, and poison you. At least you don't have any nasty surprises that way."

Filia gaped at him. "Not all people are like that!"

"Of course they're not," Trent said genially. "In point of fact, I've run across perhaps two people who've been willing to go to those extremes that weren't fellow assassins. The point of our honor code is simple; assume the worst, then you'll almost always be pleasantly surprised. And just because the other guy's willing to do it, that doesn't mean you sink to his level. If one man takes a hostage, you don't take a hostage to counter, that gets you no where. The same goes for fighting."

Filia stared at him helplessly. This was starting to make her head hurt.

"NOW JUST ONE MINUTE!"

Trent reflected that homicide might actually have its time and place. Or maybe finishing off Naga could be considered a mercy killing; that sort of thing.

For once, Naga's sultry grin was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she was glaring in open hostility at Filia. "WHAT do you think you're doing, flirting like that with my beloved like that?! You have no right to try and steal him with your scaly wiles, you shameless minx..."

Filia's jaw dropped. "Shameless? WHO are you calling shameless, miss leather and lace?"

Trent stared at Naga in shock. "Flirting?! By what warped definition would that be considered flirt...no, never mind; by YOUR warped definitions."

Naga took on a hurt expression. "Oh, surely you don't mean that my love? I know that the only thing to keep you from this consumation is the presence of those lower than ourselves. Although..."

"Bomb di wind." Trent idly reflected that he might have to switch the non- lethal wind torpedo into the slot of his favorite spell. "Flirting," he muttered under his breath, leaning back to get a nap. "As if she'd consider me her type; SHE'S not insane."

Filia shook her head in disgust at the still airborne figure of Naga. Flirting. So what if he was handsome? So was Gourry, and that didn't make him the ideal man for her or anything. So he was smart? So was Xellos, and she wouldn't even consider going there. So what if he didn't arbitrarily try any would-be-Casanova remarks on her as a prelude to making the attempt at climbing into her panties...okay, THAT she'd concede as a point.

That didn't mean she LIKED him or anything.

--------

"Do they always eat like that?" Trent asked tiredly as he watched Lina, Gourry, Amelia, and Naga (unfortunately, she knew Raywing and had been able to hunt them down) go at the meal big enough to feed a round two dozen people.

Though he wondered why Naga only seemed to be interested in the sauce.

Zelgadis nodded quietly, sipping at his tea. Trent's first meal with Lina had apparently left quite the impression on the dark elf; he'd required two tables; one for the designated heavy-hitters, and one for those capable of eating in a manner that didn't exactly duplicate the effects of a starved horde of human-sized ambulatory piranha (they actually existed; Zelgadis had run across them in his searches for a cure. According to him, they actually had better table manners.)

Lina sighed blissfully as she finished off the last of the hotpot. She'd concede just this once that Amelia had been right the last time; the Nyara- nyara hotpot WAS the way to go in Atlas City. "Okay, now that we're finished with that, what's next?"

Sirius growled quietly from the 'non-vacuum' table. He'd grudgingly agreed to a minor shape-shift while they were in the city. Not much, but he'd changed his hair to a fiery red similar to Lina's, his skin color a dark tan closest to Trent's. His clothing remained as odd as ever, though not noticeably under his volumous cloak. "We find a boat to this island so that we can get the sword. Then we can get back to MY trouble."

Trent shook his head at the sullen over-worlder. "'Find a boat?' Who precisely is going to be stupid, desperate, crazy, or shady enough to actually charter us to Wolf Pack Island? It's over five hundred miles away through Deep Sea Dolphin's realm; not the smartest or safest route."

Lina shrugged it off. "If we pay enough, I'm sure we can get it." Her hand zipped across to grab Amelia by the shoulders. "And with the crown princess of Seyruun to spring for it, I'm SURE we can get the right price."

Amelia shot out of Lina's grasp. "I REFUSE! The LAST time I agreed to pay for our trip, it ended up costing as much as it took to repair Seyruun!"

Trent shook his head as the two started brawling again. "Look, the only way we're going to get to that island is if we pay for the ship ourselves and sail it on our own. We MIGHT be able to find some crew who don't care, but that's unlikely. That in mind, do any of you know how to sail?"

Zelgadis raised a hand. "I've never sailed a boat before, but I can navigate one. Part of my education under Rezo included a great deal about survey and cartography."

"That'll help." Trent turned to Sirius. "How about you? Did you overworlders ever sail around?"

Sirius sighed, but he was running out of glaring steam. "Certainly, but if you're asking me specifically, the answer's no. I don't know much about sailing."

Amelia grinned triumphantly. "Fear not! I know all about commanding a vessel!"

Gourry paused, scratching his head. "That's great, but how are we going to pay for a ship?"

"Amelia could..."

"NO!"

Filia held up a large poster. "I noticed this when we first came into town. Apparently there's some kind of a sea dragon terrorizing the harbor. Heroes and the mage guild have tried to deal with it, but so far no one has succeeded. As it is, a big reward has been offered to whoever can deal with it."

"Oh my, miss Filia. Slaying dragons now? How very touching."

Filia glared at Xellos. "It's not as if they're intelligent; besides, who said that I'd be 'slaying' this dragon?" She stood up, spinning gracefully into a sentai pose, ruined mainly by her protruding tail. "With the true wit and grace of a priestess of the fire dragon king, I know I can dissuade this creature from its current path." She grinned nastily. "Though that's assuming PEACEFUL negotion is something you're capable of understanding."

Xellos's grin never wavered. "Not that a hair-trigger little priestess like you is capable of peace for too terribly long. Especially when things don't go exactly her way..."

Trent groaned again as Filia and Xellos continued their fight, Naga joining in due partly to her current blood alcohol level, partly due to her conviction that Filia was going to steal her darling away from her. "So any ideas how we get this job done?"

Zelgadis frowned in thought as he read through the want ad. "According to this, the dragon shows up to try and terrorize the waterfront every day around sunset. The strange thing is that it only tends to go after attractive men on the front."

Fighting screeched to a halt at Zelgadis's pronouncement. Those not fighting (mainly the males of group) got a severe case of the willies at the speculative gleams in several eyes.

--------

"Someday," Gourry said mournfully, "I'm going to figure out how she manages to always talk me into these situations."

Zelgadis glared in his direction, if not at him. "You and me both."

Xellos's ever-present smile turned strained. "Why DID we agree to this predicament anyway?"

"Because we're morons," Trent dead-panned.

Currently Trent, Zelgadis, Gourry, Xellos, and Valgaav had been spread- eagled and tied to the fronts of warehouses dotting the docks. The rationale being that HELPLESS men would be an even greater draw to the dragon.

Valgaav stared morosely across the waters. "If that dragon doesn't show up soon, I swear by Bahamut that I'm going to just boil this entire gulf to get rid of it."

SPLOOOSH!

Trent stared in slack-jawed amazement. "..."

It wasn't the biggest thing he'd ever seen; Narse had been almost five hundred feet long, and this guy only came to about one hundred fifty. It resembled a snake with bat-like wings and whisker-like mane. That wasn't what had silenced the waterfront.

It was wearing make-up. Lipstick, facial powder, and eye-liner to be precise.

Gourry hung his head. "It figures. There can't be more than three or four cross-dresser dragons in the entire world, and I get stuck with them all."

Being tied up made face-faulting impossible, though Trent certainly tried. "Well, the bait portion of our participation is complete. Shall we get out of this?"

"RUNE FLARE!"

Xellos watched as multiple spears of flame rushed across the sky to impact the drag-on. "I certainly think that's feasible," he quipped before teleporting out of his restraints, Valgaav following closely.

Trent and Zelgadis both cast a quick Bram Fang; a weak wind spell that couldn't even draw blood. It was useless outside for maybe cutting ropes. Which is actually a lot less useless than you'd think. As an afterthought, Trent cut down Gourry before the dragon could attack.

For the most part, Sirius was sitting this fight out, more commentator than anything else. Those who had been bait chose to just sit back and munch Xellos's convenient bag of popcorn.

"That's gotta hurt."

"What was that spell? It looked kind of like a flare arrow, but bigger."

Valgaav whistled appreciatively as Filia gave up being a negotiater and started breaking out the laser breath. "Not bad. She could use a little help with accuracy though."

"SEA CUCUMBER SPIN!"

Trent turned to regard the current non-participant. "Pardon, but doesn't it look like Lina's about to cast something ridiculously destructive?"

Zelgadis nodded as he watched the only-too-familiar wind-up. "Yep, looks like a dragon slave." Standing, he pointed to the sea. "Do any of you know Vice Freeze?" At affirmative nods all around, he smiled. "Alright listen. I'm going to cast a Sea Blast around the city. Each time I do, hit it with Vice Freeze. The last time Lina hit water with a dragon slave, the tsunami took out the entire town."

Lina grinned tightly as she finished charging up her main gun. "Let the fools who oppose me be destroyed by the power that you and I possess! DRAGON SLAVE!"

It proved less than effective, as the dragon chose to submerge before it hit.

From four throats came near simultaneous bellows of "VICE FREEZE!"

Lina stared in shock at the spreading wall of ice springing up around the dock. Not that she objected; it would be nice to not be blamed for her rampant spells once in a while.

Trent waved genially to Lina. "Mind if I try something else?" Not waiting for an answer, he used a quick series of freeze arrows to get a decent path of ice for him to run down. Nearing the area where the dragon had submerged, he brought his hands together to begin the chant. "Dark Lord who burns with Crimson and Black, hear this unworthy plea. Let your force and mine flow as one; free thy power unto my hand, and let us walk the path of destruction together."

Trent grinned as the dragon surfaced less than a hundred yards away. Perfect shot. "Dragon's Lance."

What looked like a slightly enlarged flare lance shot from his hands at high speed. The impact was a bit more...impressive however. On coming into contact with the dragon, the lance exploded, pouding a slip-stream of red light over thirty feet in diameter through the creature's torso before continuing beyond the horizon.

Lina's jaw dropped as she witnessed the armor-piercing version of her most destructive spell. Abruply she was atop a small pile of crates, her fist raised to the heavens. "Oh, what power, what grace, what sublime perfection! Know this great spell! I WILL LEARN THEE!"

Behind her, thunder rumbled ominously.

To be continued...