Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or the Arthurian Legends. I do, however, own Akebono and the creation of Avalon as a world in itself.
We used to laugh a lot
But only because we thought
That everything good always would remain
Nothing's gonna change there's no need to complain
~Mudfootball by Jack Johnson~
This is dedicated to Miki Chen, my best and truest friend. May we one day meet again.
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Chapter 5:
Aide from Avalon
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A tingling spread through her body, lighting her nerves on fire, and sending waves of delightful electrical currents through her body. At first she thought that his blade had severed some vital nerve, but the sensation continued to grow and the air around her began to hum and crackle. Makoto had experienced death before, and this was nothing like it. If anything, it was the exact opposite, she had never felt more alive.
Cautiously, Makoto dared to open her eyes, expecting to see nothing near what greeted her sight. She was surrounded by mist, the same gray mist that had granted her the vision of Merlin. She was surrounded by Enmu. The mist was lending her its strength, giving her the energy to defeat the mage above her, and he looked absolutely terrified.
All action ceased around her as she stood with very little effort, pushing the mage back with every step. People parted around her in awe and wonder, confused as to how, a human, a mere mortal, could have such absolute and complete control granted to her by Enmu, creator of Avalon. The mage was shaking violently, but the only thing Makoto was concentrating on was the power flowing through her veins. She had not felt this way since her last transformation into Sailor Jupiter, and even then the power had not been so absolute, so overwhelming, and so complementing of her strength. It was as though she was made of the wood and electricity she controlled, as though they would heed her every beck and call without so much as a word. Makoto tested the theory fully.
She turned the staff vertically and planted its base in the ankle high grass. She could feel the earth vibrating beneath her, humming with life and energy, even as the plants and roots responded to her presence. She felt their life all around her, encompassing her. And she felt as though she were an extension of Avalon itself, as though the entire world on which she stood was, had always been, and would always be an integral part of her. Neither existing without the other.
The mage looked ready to turn and run in fear, just as the remaining enemy soldiers surrounding her were doing. Even her own newly claimed comrades seemed about to follow in their retreating enemy's footsteps. Makoto, however, was only concerned with the robed man attempting to flee in front of her. From some depth of a hidden memory, Makoto found herself asking the plants beneath her feet to stop him. Listening to her plea, the immoveable roots of two giant oaks tore through the hard packed ground and reached upwards to catch the fleeing mage's feet firmly in their grasping tendrils. Makoto took a step forward, the mist beginning to shine with a brilliant emerald light around her, as a symbol flashed once on her forehead, her emerald eyes burning the same color. She raised the staff high above her head, the green tinted gray mist swirling in streams and ribbons around her staff and body. Whispering voices echoed around her, ancient voices who spoke with wisdom and encouragement, guiding her and telling her exactly what she needed to do. Slowly, she lowered the tip of the staff to the ground, and the electricity in her blood left her body as it sped along the ground.
It sparked along the green forest growth, licking with electrified tongues as it dived and arced along its own grassy path. Touching and caressing the ground, yet leaving it unscathed.
The young mage was swallowed whole by the blue lightning, devoured by its hungry tendrils, his screams echoing hollowly in the clearing.
Makoto stood wide-eyed and shaking before collapsing to her knees in the grass. The staff laying forgotten by her side, discarded in shock. As Sailor Jupiter, Makoto had killed several youma and aided in the death of countless more. She had helped Sailor Moon to conquer villains and enemies, but never, in all her years of fighting had she killed a fellow human being.
After the power had escaped from her body in a flowing stream of pure energy, Makoto had been left drained and feeling completely alone. Nothing was left to shield her from the onslaught of exhaustion and her emotions. As soon as the power was gone, she felt weak and vulnerable, completely unlike herself. Her breath came in short gasps while her body shook with each exhalation of air. Her mind dissolved into muddled shapes and sounds as the weight of the situation descended upon her.
She had *killed* another human being. She had never killed anyone before. Monsters, yes; demons, yes; evil psychotic beings bent on world destruction, several times yes; but never had she killed another person. Usagi had even been able to save the last enemy they had fought, a fellow senshi. She had not killed her, she had found another way. The guilt threatened to swallow Makoto's heart as silent tears coursed down her cheeks, tears for the enemy.
A shattering sound echoed in the distance and the ground trembled beneath her own trembling hands. Makoto struggled to calm her shaking while taking long, deep breaths. She would have to wallow in self recrimination later, right now, her fellow senshi needed her. Standing shakily, while her muscles moaned in protest, Makoto grasped the wooden staff firmly in her hands, feeling the grains and knots beneath her hands, but not the power that had flowed through its length moments before when she had been fighting the mage and she had... Makoto allowed her thoughts to trail off, before the guilt had a chance to consume her once again. She began to move slowly forward, intent on finding her friends and helping before another death bloodied her hands.
Makoto ran towards the source of the tremors, each successive step becoming increasingly harder and harder to take upon the rocking ground. Her skin, muscles, and bones were throbbing in ill disguised pain from being repeatedly mangled by wind, pressure, and the rope like vines. Her body was nearing the breaking point, but she could not let it give out. The power the staff had given her helped minimally, but it was quickly evaporating. Her strength was diminishing, and her friends and newly acquired allies needed help if the screams and cries of battle coming from just ahead were any indication.
With her feet pounding loudly against the shuddering ground and her joints flaming in pain, she made a promise to herself as the sounds of battle drew ever closer. No more death would blacken her soul this day; no more human blood would taint her human hands.
* * *
Makoto's journey to the heart of the fight was eerily simple. Nothing blocked her path, no indistinct shadow leaped from darkness to attack her, and no robed man stood to block her progress. All in all, Makoto's nerves had nearly reached their breaking point while she struggled to continue walking on the bucking ground. The only sound reaching her ears was the din of battle and sound of splitting earth.
Suddenly, an explosion rippled along the ground sending Makoto sprawling, rather undignified, to the ground. It was this explosion that most likely saved her life, as a jet of flame heated the air above her head, singing some fly away wisps of her hair and incinerating the ancient tree directly behind her. Makoto had finally reached the battle and it was raging full force.
She stopped at the edge of the fringe of trees, one step would take her into the large grove in front of her. Her body trembled with fear, and Makoto found her legs ready to mutiny on her and turn to flee. Her resolve was quickly abandoning her, leaving only the constant throbbing pain and mind numbing shock. Up until now, she had been working on autopilot, allowing her body to do as she had always done before, run headlong into a battle she knew nothing about. But now, with her white knuckles gripping the wooden staff and fingernails leaving crescents of red in her palms, doubt filled Makoto. Only minutes before had she engaged in a similar battle, and the aftereffects still lingered painfully in Makoto's body. She could not take another beating like that, she just could not, at least, not without succumbing to the welcoming darkness that beckoned her even now.
The fear vibrating through Makoto's body was something she had seldom experienced, and always before when it had tried to conquer her, she had forced it down. Fought against it; fought against herself; fought against her downfall. But now, the fear was devouring her, pulling her numb, shocked mind and exhausted body nearer and nearer to the abyss. And as her mind and body succumbed to the fear, she trembled, her being consumed by the horror of what she had done, and what she was about to do.
Screams rent the air, tearing and shredding through it as though it were tissue paper, but they were drowned by the screams of fear that Makoto's mind echoed silently. Then, as though it were a song, a crystal note of fear, pain, and anguish quivered in the chaotic air. Its peal ringing above the din, forcing itself through the gnarled strands of simultaneous thoughts and numbness that had become Makoto's consciousness, clearing the fog as though it were a shining beacon of hope and piercing the darkness. Makoto's mind became as clear as the trembling note of that human scream. And she recognized the sound immediately. It was the innocent, grieving cry of her friend, her ally, and her princess.
Moments of shocking clarity descended on Makoto's mind, and finally, she understood the root of her fear. It was not grown from the sounds of battle, nor the exhaustion that plagued both psyche and body. It was a seed germinated in the crimson soil of life, in innocent human blood. And in the sudden lull of lucidity, Makoto understood.
She had killed a human, yes, but an innocent? No. Makoto fought to protect innocence, the innocence epitomized in her princess, in her confidant, in her pure, and sometimes childish, but ever loving, friend. Those who sought to give death in order to hurt that innocence, that pure life that had screamed a fearful note, were not innocent. They were no where close. Even if they were human, even if they shared the same blood that ran through Makoto's veins, they were still doing what countless enemies had done before. Threatening the life of her princess, and threatening those who fought on the side of light and righteousness. A new resolve formed within Makoto, hardening her eyes, straightening her back, and reducing the overwhelming waves of pain, to an ignorable throb. With eyes blazing cold fury and mind quickly slipping into vengeful clarity, Makoto took that last fateful step past the fringe of trees and into the clearing, desperately searching for the location of the place from which the scream had come.
No one even remotely acknowledged her arrival on the battlefield, they were all to occupied, and, Makoto had realized as she had stepped onto the war zone, her sudden arrival was not all that surprising. All around her, coming from all directions, jumping from leafy branches, bursting from green shrubbery, and charging down dusty roads, men and women, soldiers and magi, enemy and ally, erupted into battle, sometimes alone, sometimes arriving in groups, but always wasting no time in attacking. Makoto had reached the heart of the battle. Magic raged across the ground so that very little grass decorated the soil. And with every passing minute the clearing continued to grow larger as giant trees were felled in the blasts of heated magic.
Entire legions of soldiers were eradicated in a matter of seconds, but more always sprang up into their places only to be devoured by the same magic in the next instant that had killed their comrades in the past fleeting moment. The fear had left Makoto's system only moments before, but she still trembled. However, this shaking was not coming from any aftereffects of fear, Makoto was trembling in ill suppressed rage. The magi in front of her were attacking soldiers, destroying entire legions who had no way to protect themselves against the magic. For a brief second Makoto stood immobilized and uncertain, on the one hand, she could continue searching for her princess, but then on the other, she could save countless more lives by attacking the mage. She knew it was her duty to protect the princess, but she was not known as the senshi of strength and protection for nothing. Her powers and strengths lay in protection, ambiguous, general protection not protection of a single person. And also, after the first scream, Makoto had not been left with the tense sense of urgency that usually flooded her system after hearing Usagi's cry of pain or desperation. Unsure as to how she was so confident in her feelings, Makoto somehow knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt that Usagi was safe, that the greater need of her strength came from those being annihilated by magi. She had defeated one, surely she could accomplish it again.
Oh to hell with it! Makoto thought exasperated. I guess I'll find out whether I can or not.
She wasted no time in leaping into the battle.
The staff sped down with a sharp crack on the mage's unprotected skull, and his spell dissipated in mid-air. The legion that had been rushing upon him, rushed pass Makoto, the red arm band that signified her as a defender of Kochi, also protected her from their flashing blades held by arms adorned by similar bands of the same color.
Makoto's respite was brief, as an enemy soldier spotted her enemy cloth band of red and attacked. Makoto allowed instinct to take over, as she twirled the staff in her hands, dodging small charges of magic the soldier shot, and blocked and parried all his blows.
Spotting a sudden opening, Makoto granted herself a feral smile as wood connected to flesh. Fights became a blur, images of one mingling with sounds of another, as Makoto weaved in and out of fighting soldiers, sometimes attacking and sometimes blocking, but always protecting.
Then the tide of battle turned.
And for the worse. With flaming breath of molten fire, the black dragons fell like torrents of rain freed from clouds. They hovered for a brief moment in the air, before folding black leathery wings and diving like falcons, becoming living, fire-breathing projectiles, complete with row upon row of fangs and sharpened talons. Their muzzles came to a sharp, beaklike point, perfect for spearing or tearing. The only way to distinguish between each separate dragon and count their numbers was to compare their horns.
The differences were innumerable. Some only had two jutting from the back of their narrow head like hair, in some cases knotted and tangled together, in others free with an appearance of flowing form. Other dragons were adorned with spikes protruding from the side of their jaws, so that just a swipe of the head could cause damage. Still more resembled rhinoceroses, a curved, scimitar-like horn curling from between their twin nostrils. Then Makoto spotted one dragon, larger than the rest, and a brilliant gold color, that was truly frightening. His scales burned with the fire of the sun and his eyes reflected the cold, hard surface of frozen ice. A crown of curling tendrils of ivory bone rose from the crest of the mighty beasts head. A trail of spikes followed his spine down to an explosion of razor edges in his tail. Each vertebrae jutted from his back, sometimes flat and blunt, while other times it was sharp and curved, but always dangerous. It was this dragon that led the flock.
An inhuman screech sounded from his razor lined mouth as he dived down, the dragons behind him falling a second later, perfectly mirroring his form and ferocity. Orange flame licking with burning red tongues devoured both enemy and ally alike as the dragons pulled from their dive at the last instant, wings tips lightly skimming the blackened earth, scorching ground, flesh, and bone. Soldiers scattered, while magi did their best to erect hasty shields as protection. Makoto leapt towards the nearest mage quickly, hitting the ground just within the falling confines of a umbrella of protection and covering her face with bared arms. The fire was halted, but in such close proximity to her that Makoto could feel the heat lightly burning exposed skin and singing her hair.
The shimmering dome above her flickered and wavered, but with sweat beading on the mage's face, it held. Then as the flock of glossy scaled midnight black dragons continued to soar overhead, one lazily drug a flat, razor edged tail along the shield. A long, shallow line ran along a portion of the shining surface, not deep enough to penetrate, but worrisome nonetheless. Almost immediately, the other dragons sensed the weakness, the fading magic. The red cloaked mage was shaking visibly, and Makoto knew that his magic would not sustain either him or the dome much longer. She gripped the staff tighter between her hands, wishing once again for the power to be unleashed, for it to flow through her body. For it to coat her veins in electricity, and to allow herself to succumb to it. By now fire was once again beating down unmercifully on the weakened shield above her. And dragons, with their scaled black hides and gleaming black talons, clawed against the shield amidst flames of their brethren, impervious to the heat. More lines appeared crisscrossing the flickering dome, and she watched helplessly as they dug deeper. She chanced a glance towards the mage and noticed several soldiers, enemy and ally alike, kneeling around him, chanting. Wisps of white floated lazily upwards and into the mage's outstretched hands before being deposited into the shield that was saving all of their lives. It was not enough, Makoto realized. They were not strong enough to withstand the destructive power of pure unbridled magical beasts. The flames devoured indiscriminately. Always breathing, always consuming, always killing. With no regard to good nor evil they destroyed, and Makoto could not help but remember Toshinokou's words from earlier.
"Enmu does not discriminate from Light or Dark, he grants power to all he deems worthy, whether they fight heroically for Light, or valiantly for Dark."
Then she remember another of his cautions against dragons, "Dragons are fiercely loyal to their clan and ultimately distrusting of everything but other dragons. Not even their distant cousin the elf can always earn their trust and respect. Humans are inferior to them... they do not trust others."
"They believe themselves superior to man, and in many ways they are." He had reiterated still later.
Makoto could easily believe those words now as the beasts clawed against a shield, destroying it with tongues of fire, looking to kill both their comrades and their rivals. Humans meant nothing to them.
Then Makoto caught the eye of one dragon. Blazing embers of fire sunken in their sockets as though burning from the depths of hell. Makoto felt frozen staring into those eyes, so very different from Akebono's, and yet eerily, frighteningly similar. Both burned with unholy light, one of a pale, sky blue, and the other of a fire from the very bowels of the earth.
Then the pale blue eyes flashed in her mind, their depth matching those of the sunken crimson pinpoints in front of her, and the staff hummed once in her hands before stilling. It had saved her life once, but not again.
Suddenly the dragon was attacking with renewed vengeance. Tearing deep gouges into their protection, sometimes slicing clear through the shield so that licking fingers of flames could grasp inside. The lacerations across the opaque surface were growing more numerous and deeper. The shield itself was collapsing in on itself, and Makoto saw no way of escape. So she did the last thing she could think to do. If she was going to die, then she would not go down without a fight, without at least trying to survive first. She quickly knelt down beside the other soldiers. Some were already unconscious, collapsing after contributing all of their energy, and the mage looked close to joining him.
"What do I have to do?" She asked them quickly, hoping that there was something she could do.
"If you do not know," the calloused man beside her ground out through clenched teeth, "Then you would be of no help." He chanced a glance at her quickly before starting, his entire body jumping and sending a flicker of momentary shock through the shield. "You are too young child," he whispered regretfully. "I am sorry. The shield will fall soon, at the count of three we will drop it for you, and you must run into the forest, quickly."
"No!" Makoto cried, angered at the fact that they would sacrifice themselves for her because they believed her to be too young, a child. She remembered Akebono muttering similar things to her, before the fire in her eyes had begun to blaze with the same intensity as they were now. "Tell me what I must do to lend you my power, and I will do it. But I will *not* allow all of you to die for my sake." Her grip tightened around the staff, and unconsciously, she felt it begin to gradually heat. "I will help you until the very end. And if you insist on lowering this shield to allow me to leave, then I will avenge your deaths by killing these dragons with my bare hands if necessary. But I am a warrior. And I. Will. Not. Run!"
A deep frown settled on the man's face. "Very well then, forsake the life our deaths will give you so that the lot of us may die. I shall wait for you in Valhalla child until you have gained enough years in death to be considered an adult." Makoto seethed in anger. Her eyes were lit with a fire that burned from their very depths, a fire similar to that of Akebono's and the other dragons, and her hands tightened around the gnarled staff as it once again began to hum in tune with the pulsing waves of her anger.
Her lips curled into an angry snarl, and the wind whispered words of wisdom in her ear. She stood quickly, feeling the old, kneeling man vehemently ignore her, and she did likewise for him. With a force that belied her form, she sent the staff slamming into the ground.
Clods of dirt and grass exploded outward on impact, and the wise wind of advice began to blow with all its force. Like a geyser, the area around the staff came alive. Makoto's hair was swept back away from her face as was the hair of the soldiers. The mage in the center of the circle was blown clear off his weary feet and a ripple passed through the shield before it collapsed like an opaque tent. However, the same wind that had knocked grown men off their feet hit the dragons with more force, slamming into their bodies and flinging them backwards away from the tired gaggle of men as though they were merely rag dolls.
The gnarled wood in Makoto's hands hummed audibly and pulsing waves of energy fluctuated around her tall form. Her eyes shone with the same emerald green fire that pulsed softly from her forehead, and her muscles tensed with anticipation and renewed energy.
The first dragon that leapt back towards the fallen group was met with an upward swing of the staff and before it had even connected, the black beast was sent skidding backwards.
A hushed silence descended upon the soldiers of the grove as the large dragon hurtled backwards, the sound of crunching bone and flesh upon flesh echoing in the quiet as the battered beast crashed into another monstrosity in his forced path. At first nothing moved. The only sound echoing in the stillness of the grove was that of heavy, hot breaths. Then slowly, hundreds of pairs of burning crimson eyes turned their sunken depths towards Makoto, wisps of angry red flames curling upwards along with black smoke from flaming nostrils. Makoto's breath caught in her throat as the angry gazes bored into her. Her steel nerves faltering slightly before the warrior facade overcame any fear. She had always before rushed blindly into battle. It had prevented her from thinking of the possible consequences that might have befallen her, and it had stopped the fear from taking a firm hold of her body. If she let the fear conquer her, then the enemy would already have won. That was why she always leapt before she looked. It was simpler that way. That was the reason she acted now on instinct rather than thought-out strategy.
All of the dragons seemed ready to leap upon their attacker, muscles poised for strike and fangs bared in snarls. Something, however, held them back, and that something was stalking straight for Makoto. It was what Makoto had assumed was the leader before. His gnarled horns looked all the more gruesome and grotesque from Makoto's new and closer vantage point. The wreath of jutting bone the surrounded his head and trailed in a jagged path down his spine loomed above her just as fearsomely. The large, golden dragon was advancing on her, smoke curling from his mouth and lips pulled back from lengthy fangs.
"What have I gotten myself into now," Makoto muttered angrily under her breath, hands gripping the staff so tightly that the wood groaned beneath the pressure.
The dragon gave her a feral grin, claws digging into the soft earth with each step, muscles rippling under gleaming gold flesh, and chest puffing out as he breathed in. The air was expelled in a mighty wind, combusting into flames after leaving his mouth, and burning upon impact with a hastily erected shield that the staff had provided on instinct, not Makoto's command. It became obvious to her then, that this magic the staff lent her was not something she could control. This magic that had saved her, was not her own and acted based only upon need. Makoto hoped that it would not give out on her anytime in the near future. As it was, the large beast was already approaching her again, air being pulled and drawn into its lungs as it prepared to deliver another heated blast. Anticipating the coming heat wave, Makoto rolled quickly to the side, dodging beneath the clawed feet of another dragon and using its scales as protection. The staff had ceased its humming after lowering the previous shield, and Makoto realized that it was returning to its dormancy, all magic gone, used, and no longer available to her.
The dragon she had rolled under for protection began to violently stomp in an attempt to either trample her or rouse her from beneath its vulnerable underside. Had Makoto any magic left in the staff or any sharp object for that matter, she would not have run so quickly from beneath the thrashing limbs. But as it was, Makoto barely managed to dodge the clawed feet and escape. Dragons all around her had resumed their attack on the human soldiers. The magic impervious hide of the black dragons ricocheted spells fired from robed men into other unsuspecting soldiers or magi who felt the blast unprotected. The stronger of the magi, those dressed in blue robes with a few splattering of green, still held their shields. But the strength of the most of them were rapidly diminishing under the continual onslaught of fiery breath. Only the blue robed magi still held strong, the ones robed in other colors slumped either dead from fire and fang or spent from overtaxing their magical resources. Either way, both appeared lifeless or soon to be thus. Makoto used her size to her advantage, staying close beneath the belly of any nearby dragon. The flashing talons were easier to avoid than the sweeping flame.
A distant hum, drawing ever closer to her, gave Makoto the momentary false hope that the magic was returning to the staff. That illusion was shattered as the hum grew louder, multiplied, then divided into numerous, separate beats. Beats of leathery, membranous wings.
Oh shit, what do they need reinforcements for, they're already winning.
All around, black scaled dragons raised their fang encrusted maws heavenward in a keening cry of victory as more and more soldiers fell beneath them. Only a quarter of what was once the largest force in the kingdom's army remained. And the majority of those were alive only because they were protected by the highest and strongest of the magi who still managed to maintain their shields.
Then Makoto cursed one last time before all breath was knocked from her lungs. In her momentary distraction, an average sized, well average for a dragon anyway, oily black beast lunged at her, caging her between bars of glistening bone talons. Steaming trails of smoke trailed from the flaring nostrils and its scaly lips lifted in a smirking snarl. Gleaming silver teeth parting slowly as the monster's rancid breath wafted over her and curling tongues of flame began to escape from his mouth. Makoto drew in a shaky breath, the dragon was getting ready to incinerate her, and the beat of leathery dragons wings had nearly overtaken them. She could hear them, screaming and screeching as they dove, and Makoto closed her eyes, tensing and preparing for the inevitable, just as the sky came crashing down around her.
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Author's Notes:
Sorry, once again for the long delay. I will make no more promises with deadlines, because I just seem to break them. I hate school. And I truly am sorry for the lack of updates, I just really haven't felt like writing for a while. I lost my best friend at the first of December. And I could just go on and on to describe her, or my feelings, or any other such thing that you don't want to hear and I don't know if I want to tell. If any of you truly want to know why exactly I haven't been writing, or maybe just are curious about my friend, I have a journal at http://www.moonromance.net/journalview.php?uid=19322 that should explain anything that I can't right now. It's a rather personal rant, so don't feel obligated to look or respond. I promise I will finish this story one day, if for no other reason than to dedicate the entire thing to my friend. Thank you, to all my wonderful reviewers, you truly don't know how much I appreciate you right now. Thanx for lifting my spirits. I truly am grateful.
Juno
