Author's Note: That wasn't very nice, Shike... I do TOO think. Just for
that, I won't update... er... which of my fics do you like most again? I'm
guessing Crimson, because of all the gore and fire and pointy objects...
but I just updated that. Damn. Oh well... *settles for adding Shike to the
very long list of people he needs to plot creative revenge upon*
Aer, I wouldn't be too worried about people being all happy-ish and stuff. Besides which, I thought you liked Shade. And if you hurt Phil, the Fifster would be very mad at you.
AND DAMMIT, I'M NOT A DOG! Aer shall pay...
Chapter 77
The following morning, Phil woke up earliest, which would have been surprising to most until they learned that he had merely procrastinated in delivering the orders, which instantly dispelled any surprise anyone would have had on the subject. Uneasily he knocked on Kyra's door. There was a mumble from within, which he decided to take as permissive, so he opened the door. Kyra sat on the bed, already fully dressed, rubbing her eyes. "What the hell are you waking me up so early for?"
"Orders. You're leaving with Rayen in a few hours to round up new recruits and take out any baddies you find."
That woke the Wingly up. She shot out of the bed like a bullet, grabbing Phil by the collar. "What? Did he say why?"
Phil lifted his open hands, as though he was trying to prove he wasn't a demon himself. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I dunno, I wasn't paying that much attention. I think he said that you could teleport the group back here if trouble comes by."
Kyra relaxed, loosening her grip. "Fine. Just get out."
"Going, going. Just one question, though. You sleep in your clothes?"
Kyra snarled and snatched the heaviest object she could find off her dresser, hurling it at Phil's retreating form. But the projectile bounced off the wall, and the Jade Dragoon was already gone, snickering. Kyra stood, quivering with anger, seriously considering chasing down Phil and throttling him. Then she sighed, slid open her dresser drawer, and took out her Dragoon Spirit. Pummeling Phil could always wait. She had work to do.
Phil knocked on Victor's door next, bracing to dodge a bullet if it should come suddenly bursting through the wood. Instead he just was forced to listen to a stream of very colorful cursing for nearly a minute straight. Finally the highlander gave him permission to enter. Phil opened the door uneasily, to find the Red-Eye glaring at him, a lit cigarette already clamped in his mouth. "What the hell is the big idea of waking me up so early? Soa, I need a drink..."
"Did you make up all that cussing on the spot, because I've never heard anything like that before..."
Victor's glare intensified, a. "Roughly translated from my own language. Now what the hell do you want?"
"One question. How exactly would my grandmother..."
"Just get on with it, already!"
Phil sighed. Nobody ever told him anything. "OK. Orders came. One group is staying here, while the other..."
Victor cut him off, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I know. I was there, remember? Which one am I with?"
"You're with Rayen."
"Fine. But if you ever wake me up again because you're too lazy to do your job when you're told, I will be much less pleasant."
"This is pleasant?"
"Pleasant for me."
"Ah. Of course."
************************************************************************
A few hours later, about six dozen Dragoons stood assembled on the fortress roof, wearing heavy clothes to break the chill wind. Rayen strode to the head of the group, looking surprised. "Well, it looks like Phil actually did his job for once."
Victor snorted. "Yeah, about twenty minutes before we got here."
"Now that sounds more like Phil. Speaking of which, he's late."
Suddenly, Rayen felt something loop around his ankle and jerk backwards, accompanied by a hard shove between his shoulder blades. "Am not."
Rayen landed on his hands, and did an awkward somersault, back on his feet again in a moment, glaring at the grinning Jade Dragoon. "First time for everything, I suppose."
"Oh, is that the best you could come up with? You're losing your touch."
"Keep in mind that there are ladies present."
Phil feigned shock. "Really? Where? I thought they were endangered."
Rayen raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now you're suicidal?"
Phil shrugged. "I figure I'm gonna get what's coming to me eventually anyway, so why bother lying low?"
"To live long enough to be able to drink?"
"Oh yeah. Forgot about that."
Victor spat out his cigarette, pulling a fresh one from a pack in his pocket. "I'm sure you two would love to just stand there and shoot your mouths off at each other for eternity, but we have a job to do."
Phil sighed with regret. "Fine, fine. I was on a roll, though..."
The highlander lit the new cigarette and exhaled deeply. "You'll have plenty of time. We'll be flying for a while."
Then seventy-two Dragoons Spirits burst into various dazzling magical displays, and the glittering winged warriors kicked off the cold stone, soaring into the boundless sky. In formation they flew, like a multicolored flock of geese, with Rayen at the head and a Dragon at both sides and one at the rear, all three laden with a week's supplies. They emerged from the dismal clouds of mist that hung over the mountains, out into the open air. Rayen relished flight and its absolute limitlessness, and from the content sighs and whoops from those behind him, he deduced that his fellows felt the same way. They continued on, the feel of the wind and the sun temporarily relieving their worries.
But after a while Rayen noticed that something was not right. The air seemed almost thin in places, but how could air be thin? It made no sense, so Rayen shook it off as nerves and tried to enjoy the ride. But the odd quality remained. Pieces of the sky began to shimmer, and looked almost as if they were about to tear at the seams. But air had no seams...
But rip it did. A gaping hole opened right before him. The Guardian Dragoon veered, breaking off his course. He could not see behind him, but he hoped the others had followed. He noticed the Spirit on his chest flare in surprise, but he somehow sensed that the shock came not from one of the gods that resided in the crystal, but both. "What's going on?" Rayen demanded of the gem.
"It has begun," intoned a calm, gentle, and wise voice, so different from the harsh, mocking tones of the Murderer.
The initial surprise at hearing the Creator speaking for the first time wore off quickly, and he was growing irritated with vague answers from either of the entities. "Well, would you mind letting me in on exactly what that entails?"
"This conflict is speeding steadily towards its resolution."
"And what precisely does that have to do with huge holes appearing in midair?"
"They are gates between this world and all of the countless others that exist, just beyond your grasp, until now."
"Like the portal that we used to get here?"
"Correct. That portal, in fact, is the source of all this. The magical fabric that holds worlds apart is only strong enough to separate them. That disturbance has disrupted it. We both knew that this could result if one was opened, but I doubt that the Murderer believed that it would happen this soon."
"But the portal was closed..."
"It makes no difference. Think of the fabric like a pond. If you toss a stone in, the ripples will continue, even after the cause has ceased."
"I gather that this should be stopped. But how?"
"You must shut that off." Obviously, the Creator had no arms to indicate what he spoke of, but Rayen's eyes were suddenly drawn to the purple diamonds that floated higher than they in the sky, just as one of the strange bolts of lightning rocketed from one to the next.
"What is it?"
"The cause of all of this."
"Would you mind clarifying it a bit more, or are we back to not telling me anything?"
"I have told you all that you require to know, at least for now. More shall be made clear as becomes necessary. In the meantime, you may find a way to turn these gates to your advantage."
"How?"
"You're a resourceful boy. One of the many reasons this task was bestowed upon you."
The last comment had a very final tone to it, and Rayen decided to give up on any further attempts to press for information he obviously wasn't going to receive. He puzzled over the dilemma he faced for a moment. Then inspiration struck him, as if he had stood between two of the strange objects in the sky and been jolted by lightning. He halted and made a quick about-face, and saw all of the Dragoons dutifully tagging along behind him. He made a gesture and began to spiral down to the earth. His warriors plunged after him without a word of inquiry. They all knew when their leader had a plan.
When everyone was looking at him expectantly, Rayen spoke. "All right. These holes may look pretty damn weird, but they might just be our keys to pulling one hell of a rabbit out of the hat. If this works right, we won't even need those extra hundred Dragoons."
Now everyone was rapt with attention. Good, that was just what he wanted. "Kyra, I need you to take us back home."
The Violet Dragoon's face took on an expression of incredulity. "What for? We just left."
"Change of plans. We're done beating around the bush."
The skeptical look faded, replaced with a rare smile, and the Wingly drew the Dragoons back to their makeshift home along the current of magic. Their river was diverted, for now, but it was beginning to gather both speed and fury, and soon it would overwhelm their foes.
Author's Note: *smashes writer's block with his trusty sledgehammer* After two months, it's finally finished. Anyway, you can tell we're getting close to the end, thankfully. I've recently had two great ideas for new fics, but I don't want to start a new one until after this is done with. So I'm going to temporarily shove everything else on the backburner and keep updating this until it's done with. I now know why novel authors usually write two or three drafts of an entire book, because the first one ends up being total CRAP the first time through. But regardless, it's done, and the next one should be updated before Monday, when I'm leaving on a five-day trip to Washington, D.C. Striker gets to visit the Smithsonian, and see all of the confiscated weaponry in the Spy Museum... *drools*
Aer, I wouldn't be too worried about people being all happy-ish and stuff. Besides which, I thought you liked Shade. And if you hurt Phil, the Fifster would be very mad at you.
AND DAMMIT, I'M NOT A DOG! Aer shall pay...
Chapter 77
The following morning, Phil woke up earliest, which would have been surprising to most until they learned that he had merely procrastinated in delivering the orders, which instantly dispelled any surprise anyone would have had on the subject. Uneasily he knocked on Kyra's door. There was a mumble from within, which he decided to take as permissive, so he opened the door. Kyra sat on the bed, already fully dressed, rubbing her eyes. "What the hell are you waking me up so early for?"
"Orders. You're leaving with Rayen in a few hours to round up new recruits and take out any baddies you find."
That woke the Wingly up. She shot out of the bed like a bullet, grabbing Phil by the collar. "What? Did he say why?"
Phil lifted his open hands, as though he was trying to prove he wasn't a demon himself. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I dunno, I wasn't paying that much attention. I think he said that you could teleport the group back here if trouble comes by."
Kyra relaxed, loosening her grip. "Fine. Just get out."
"Going, going. Just one question, though. You sleep in your clothes?"
Kyra snarled and snatched the heaviest object she could find off her dresser, hurling it at Phil's retreating form. But the projectile bounced off the wall, and the Jade Dragoon was already gone, snickering. Kyra stood, quivering with anger, seriously considering chasing down Phil and throttling him. Then she sighed, slid open her dresser drawer, and took out her Dragoon Spirit. Pummeling Phil could always wait. She had work to do.
Phil knocked on Victor's door next, bracing to dodge a bullet if it should come suddenly bursting through the wood. Instead he just was forced to listen to a stream of very colorful cursing for nearly a minute straight. Finally the highlander gave him permission to enter. Phil opened the door uneasily, to find the Red-Eye glaring at him, a lit cigarette already clamped in his mouth. "What the hell is the big idea of waking me up so early? Soa, I need a drink..."
"Did you make up all that cussing on the spot, because I've never heard anything like that before..."
Victor's glare intensified, a. "Roughly translated from my own language. Now what the hell do you want?"
"One question. How exactly would my grandmother..."
"Just get on with it, already!"
Phil sighed. Nobody ever told him anything. "OK. Orders came. One group is staying here, while the other..."
Victor cut him off, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I know. I was there, remember? Which one am I with?"
"You're with Rayen."
"Fine. But if you ever wake me up again because you're too lazy to do your job when you're told, I will be much less pleasant."
"This is pleasant?"
"Pleasant for me."
"Ah. Of course."
************************************************************************
A few hours later, about six dozen Dragoons stood assembled on the fortress roof, wearing heavy clothes to break the chill wind. Rayen strode to the head of the group, looking surprised. "Well, it looks like Phil actually did his job for once."
Victor snorted. "Yeah, about twenty minutes before we got here."
"Now that sounds more like Phil. Speaking of which, he's late."
Suddenly, Rayen felt something loop around his ankle and jerk backwards, accompanied by a hard shove between his shoulder blades. "Am not."
Rayen landed on his hands, and did an awkward somersault, back on his feet again in a moment, glaring at the grinning Jade Dragoon. "First time for everything, I suppose."
"Oh, is that the best you could come up with? You're losing your touch."
"Keep in mind that there are ladies present."
Phil feigned shock. "Really? Where? I thought they were endangered."
Rayen raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now you're suicidal?"
Phil shrugged. "I figure I'm gonna get what's coming to me eventually anyway, so why bother lying low?"
"To live long enough to be able to drink?"
"Oh yeah. Forgot about that."
Victor spat out his cigarette, pulling a fresh one from a pack in his pocket. "I'm sure you two would love to just stand there and shoot your mouths off at each other for eternity, but we have a job to do."
Phil sighed with regret. "Fine, fine. I was on a roll, though..."
The highlander lit the new cigarette and exhaled deeply. "You'll have plenty of time. We'll be flying for a while."
Then seventy-two Dragoons Spirits burst into various dazzling magical displays, and the glittering winged warriors kicked off the cold stone, soaring into the boundless sky. In formation they flew, like a multicolored flock of geese, with Rayen at the head and a Dragon at both sides and one at the rear, all three laden with a week's supplies. They emerged from the dismal clouds of mist that hung over the mountains, out into the open air. Rayen relished flight and its absolute limitlessness, and from the content sighs and whoops from those behind him, he deduced that his fellows felt the same way. They continued on, the feel of the wind and the sun temporarily relieving their worries.
But after a while Rayen noticed that something was not right. The air seemed almost thin in places, but how could air be thin? It made no sense, so Rayen shook it off as nerves and tried to enjoy the ride. But the odd quality remained. Pieces of the sky began to shimmer, and looked almost as if they were about to tear at the seams. But air had no seams...
But rip it did. A gaping hole opened right before him. The Guardian Dragoon veered, breaking off his course. He could not see behind him, but he hoped the others had followed. He noticed the Spirit on his chest flare in surprise, but he somehow sensed that the shock came not from one of the gods that resided in the crystal, but both. "What's going on?" Rayen demanded of the gem.
"It has begun," intoned a calm, gentle, and wise voice, so different from the harsh, mocking tones of the Murderer.
The initial surprise at hearing the Creator speaking for the first time wore off quickly, and he was growing irritated with vague answers from either of the entities. "Well, would you mind letting me in on exactly what that entails?"
"This conflict is speeding steadily towards its resolution."
"And what precisely does that have to do with huge holes appearing in midair?"
"They are gates between this world and all of the countless others that exist, just beyond your grasp, until now."
"Like the portal that we used to get here?"
"Correct. That portal, in fact, is the source of all this. The magical fabric that holds worlds apart is only strong enough to separate them. That disturbance has disrupted it. We both knew that this could result if one was opened, but I doubt that the Murderer believed that it would happen this soon."
"But the portal was closed..."
"It makes no difference. Think of the fabric like a pond. If you toss a stone in, the ripples will continue, even after the cause has ceased."
"I gather that this should be stopped. But how?"
"You must shut that off." Obviously, the Creator had no arms to indicate what he spoke of, but Rayen's eyes were suddenly drawn to the purple diamonds that floated higher than they in the sky, just as one of the strange bolts of lightning rocketed from one to the next.
"What is it?"
"The cause of all of this."
"Would you mind clarifying it a bit more, or are we back to not telling me anything?"
"I have told you all that you require to know, at least for now. More shall be made clear as becomes necessary. In the meantime, you may find a way to turn these gates to your advantage."
"How?"
"You're a resourceful boy. One of the many reasons this task was bestowed upon you."
The last comment had a very final tone to it, and Rayen decided to give up on any further attempts to press for information he obviously wasn't going to receive. He puzzled over the dilemma he faced for a moment. Then inspiration struck him, as if he had stood between two of the strange objects in the sky and been jolted by lightning. He halted and made a quick about-face, and saw all of the Dragoons dutifully tagging along behind him. He made a gesture and began to spiral down to the earth. His warriors plunged after him without a word of inquiry. They all knew when their leader had a plan.
When everyone was looking at him expectantly, Rayen spoke. "All right. These holes may look pretty damn weird, but they might just be our keys to pulling one hell of a rabbit out of the hat. If this works right, we won't even need those extra hundred Dragoons."
Now everyone was rapt with attention. Good, that was just what he wanted. "Kyra, I need you to take us back home."
The Violet Dragoon's face took on an expression of incredulity. "What for? We just left."
"Change of plans. We're done beating around the bush."
The skeptical look faded, replaced with a rare smile, and the Wingly drew the Dragoons back to their makeshift home along the current of magic. Their river was diverted, for now, but it was beginning to gather both speed and fury, and soon it would overwhelm their foes.
Author's Note: *smashes writer's block with his trusty sledgehammer* After two months, it's finally finished. Anyway, you can tell we're getting close to the end, thankfully. I've recently had two great ideas for new fics, but I don't want to start a new one until after this is done with. So I'm going to temporarily shove everything else on the backburner and keep updating this until it's done with. I now know why novel authors usually write two or three drafts of an entire book, because the first one ends up being total CRAP the first time through. But regardless, it's done, and the next one should be updated before Monday, when I'm leaving on a five-day trip to Washington, D.C. Striker gets to visit the Smithsonian, and see all of the confiscated weaponry in the Spy Museum... *drools*