It Could Be Worse (3rd Season)
Episode 15: The Quest
By Sulia Serafine
[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
E-mail me at silverwlng@aol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.
IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm still accepting people into the mailing list. That means you'll be told when the next episode is posted, as well as other tidbits of information about the series whenever I put them online. ALSO: Every now and then, as a pledge, I'll send everyone bonus material, such as drawings of ICBW characters and little random facts about ICBW.
Rating of this episode: PG-13 for adventuring, the usual tiny amount of cursing, and more surprise than our characters would like…
~~
Distraction was not one of the best things to bring on a quest. The word 'quest' itself contained many connotations: danger, peril, heroism, and most of all, devotion to one's cause. Cleon had very little desire to face the first three. And he had no trace of devotion at all to the cause. His quest was a forced one. If anything, he was dedicated to the notion of beating the chamberlain, Maggur, to a bloody pulp.
If only Faleron hadn't been hurt. Cleon knew it was partially his fault. If he hadn't begged Faleron to help… If only he hadn't fit the description in the prophecy… His best friend would not be lying in some grim castle surrounded by macabre sights and sounds, all the while wounded and sick with poison.
He wondered how much time he would have to get the dragon and return to the Black City. They had directed him toward a cluster of caverns hidden among the mountain terrain. According to the map, the legendary Lake that they spoke of was somewhere underground, aglow with the light of the sleeping dragon.
No one had ever seen the Lake. Well, at least they knew of one. A sacrifice had been kidnapped from further west. She (for indeed, they had needed a virtuous maiden) had been discovered to be incompatible for the ritual. So, they had thrown her to the caverns so she could eventually find her way to the dragon and be eaten. It had been a joke, really. They never expected her to find the Lake… just die alone in the rocky confines.
Cleon kept his hand close to the map. He did not want to be lost in the caves and stumble over the skeleton of a misfortunate girl. It was bad enough that he had to coerce a dragon to join his side, when, really, it wasn't even his side. He had no desire to attack the Kingdom of Enishijirou. Who were they anyway? As far as Cleon had heard, the two lost civilizations hadn't confronted each other in decades.
He forced himself to forget the reasons of his anger. He would need concentration to battle the odds and win. After all, he was facing a dragon. And what did he have? A blowtorch (tiny in comparison to what a large dragon probably had) and a crossbow. He also had his gun, but there were a finite number of bullets left in the magazine. Maybe the gods would be ironic. The dragon's scales could be bulletproof.
You don't want to kill the dragon. It has minded its own business all these centuries. All you want to do is rescue Fal! Nothing personal against the large lizard, he told himself. He found a part of the cave wall that jutted out and hung his lantern there. There was a fork in the cavern's paths and he had no idea which way to turn.
The map was difficult to read. It had been made so long ago that the ink had faded and the edges were badly torn. He finally located where he had come from and traced a line representing what he thought had been his journey.
"This doesn't make sense. There should be… a ledge maybe? A pit?" He frowned. It would be just his luck if an avalanche had changed the structure of the cave.
A rock fell to the ground behind him. Cleon whirled around, eyes wide, hand on his gun. As far as he could see, nothing nearby had fallen. He peered into the shadows. His imagination was playing tricks on him.
Again, he heard a strange scraping sound in the darkness. Rocks and pebbles moving against each other, perhaps. Cleon wished he had asked about any animals that dwelled in the area. That would make sense. Rats, maybe?
Right. Rats, he thought. Here? In the snowy mountains? I'm losing it.
"Hello?" he called weakly. Having received no response, he turned back around and picked up the lantern. Just the same, he tucked his map back into his belt and reached for his gun again.
Before he could, something tiny struck his hand. He yelped and shook his hand to rid himself of the painful feeling. He looked down. There was a reddish paste covering his skin. He brought it to his nose and sniffed it.
"That almost smells like… food…"
"It is food, dummy. They're berries. And I have to waste it on you. How sad."
Cleon looked up. He immediately grinned. "Neal! Stone!" He could have jumped for joy. "What are you guys doing here? We've been looking all—"
The sharpshooter stopped mid-sentence when his friends were completely in the range of the lantern. The two formerly missing men were seated upon the backs of two huge wolves, looking as comfortable as if they were riding mules. The wolves were likewise comfortable, licking their chops. The beasts slowly got onto their bellies to allow their riders to disembark.
Neal stroked his mount's head affectionately. "Don't worry about these guys. They're with us."
"And we're with you," Joren added. "So let's get this over with. We'll kill the dragon and go back."
Cleon couldn't tear his gaze away from the two large animals. He gulped. "We… we can't kill the dragon. I have to bring it back with me or else they won't give the antidote to Faleron."
"We don't need their antidote," Joren replied. "We can take him back with us to Enishijirou, into the City. Enishi will heal him."
"How do you know that?" Neal asked. He shrugged. "I never heard anyone mention healing powers."
His partner looked away. Joren's eyes were troubled, as if he couldn't reassure himself enough of what he wanted to believe. "He can. I know he can."
"Well, if it's all just the same, I'd rather not risk it," Cleon insisted. "I'm going to bring that dragon back with us. And if the prophecy is right, I'll be in control of this thing anyway. I can make it attack the Black City instead."
"Fine. If you can tame that thing and make it listen to you. Let's go. We'll explain the rest of what happened on the way," he said.
They remounted the wolves, Cleon riding on Neal's more docile one. The redhead was still apprehensive about the large creatures, but he put up with it for the sake of saving time. He was still overcoming the shock of seeing his two friends again where he least expected them. He was supposed to have come to their rescue. Not the other way around.
As they swiftly traveled along, Cleon looked over at Joren, who was moving up and down with the motion of the wolf beneath him. He squeezed the lantern handle tighter.
"Hey, Stone."
"What?"
"How… How is Fal doing? Did you see him?"
The blond turned his head toward him. He paused. "He's fine, Cleon. He's doing very well."
Neal now glanced at Joren, trying to hide a smile. He knew it was difficult for Joren to relate to anyone, even Kel. Seeing him lie for Cleon's sake was a vast improvement from heartlessly telling the truth. The former operative hadn't even noticed that he had addressed Cleon by his first name.
Good for him.
~~
Borealize looked out the window of the tower. He could barely see the city walls because of the cover of night. He knew that somewhere along those walls, Liam would be just about ready to depart for Enishijirou. It was important that he did. Many years had passed since any large scale attacks between the two hidden cities.
A dragon was not something to be taken lightly. It wouldn't befriend a lonely soul like dragons did in children's tales. It would act as dragons have acted in older, more serious tales. Breathing fire, destroying cities—general and absolute mayhem for the unfortunate city.
He did not look forward to seeing his beautiful home reduced to a pile of rubble and smoldering ruin. Where would he go? Borealize was not like his dear cousin, Shinkokami. The wolves would take care of her because her blood was pure. He possessed impure blood from a western grandparent, one he hadn't even met. The wolves would soon grow annoyed at his presence and abandon him after a few months. Then he would have no choice but to wander west toward the modern world with the rest of Enishijirou's peasant population.
Borealize had no intention of ever doing that. He would help stop the Black City from carrying out its plan. But first, he had to fulfill his duties and rescue the poor helpless westerners. If only they realized how lucky they were to have him on their side.
He had sent to Selirithel a message saying to follow him. Words were not actually formed. The opal could not do that. Instead, it transferred emotions and general ideas. Selirithel, being the owner of all the opals, could interpret their messages with great precision. The dark robed sorcerer would easily track Borealize down.
Dousing his torch and keeping it with him in case he might need it again, Borealize drew two of his throwing knives and whispered a prayer to the gods for swiftness and accuracy. He was taught that it was always better to incapacitate the enemy as quickly as possible so the enemy would not have the chance to strike back.
Several soldiers patrolled the corridor leading to the Mithrans' room. Borealize retreated down the corridor he came from. He found a dusty storage room and hid inside. Though it was pitch black, he didn't move to light the torch again. So, he sat on the floor and waited.
Eventually, a soft knock jarred Borealize's silent meditation. He touched his opal and sensed that the owner of a matching stone was on the other side of the door. Without another delay, he opened the door.
"The ones we seek are in a nearby room," he told his comrade as he let him inside. "I have not yet planned a way to get to it without killing every unworthy man in my path."
Selirithel drew a large splinter shaped rock from his many hidden pockets. White, long fingered hands shone blue when the rock itself began to glow. Borealize recognized it as the same mineral that lined the tunnels of their City. They reminded him of home and put his mind at ease. He closed the door, being glad not to be in the darkness any longer.
"I had sensed that four untainted vessels were in this area. And truly, there do seem to be many guards." His hand disappeared among the folds of his robes again. He held his hand out to Borealize. In his palm was a dime-sized red stone. "Place this under your tongue and keep one hand on my back. We shall pass by them and they shall not see us."
His companion frowned. "An invisibility charm?"
The sorcerer-warrior smirked. Borealize could barely see his face from under the hood of the robes. "No. Nothing so trite. They shall simply not notice our presence because I do not wish them to."
Borealize didn't understand the nature of the magic tricks Selirithel used. According to the vast network of family trees within Enishijirou, they weren't even connected. Selirithel was of more royal origin, though he was also known to be a western half-breed. Borealize had purer blood, but he was of lower nobility. Sometimes, he could not comprehend the intricacies of magic that his very distant relation, King Enishi, used. But it was not nearly as confusing as Selirithel's mysterious explanations.
He obediently took the stone from his non-relative's hand and placed it underneath his tongue. Surprisingly, it tasted like mint leaves.
"Ready?"
"Yes." He drew a longer dagger from his belt this time and held it tightly. The wolf-caller placed his other hand on Selrithel's slim back and followed him out of the storage room.
The two men walked calmly down the corridor toward the group of patrolling soldiers. Selirithel proceeded slowly, as if in a trance. Borealize followed, slightly nervous. He watched the faces of the men they passed. None of them noticed.
They came to a stop in front of two guards. The guards leaned against a door, looking back and forth down the hall. Selirithel held up his hand and put them between the guards. He parted them slowly, pushing them until they moved of their own accordance. Borealize sucked in his breath. He had not expected it to work so well.
Selirithel leaned toward one of the guards. He whispered, "Give me the key to this room."
The guard continued glancing up and down the hall as he was doing before, but his hand had a mind of its own. It reached for the key ring on his belt and sorted through each until it found the correct one. He handed the key, still attached to the ring, to the sorcerer.
Deftly inserting the key in the lock and turning it, he turned to face Borealize. "Go in front of me. Put your dagger away, though."
Borealize, far past willing to question anything anymore, sheathed his dagger. He kept one hand on Selirithel's arm, careful not to break contact as he pushed the door open. He soon understood why his comrade had asked him to enter first.
"Die, asshole!" a man screamed as he tried to hit Borealize with the broken top of a chair. He immediately brought his other hand up and grabbed the other end of the wood. Selirithel calmly shook his arm free and closed the door behind them.
Another desperate man threw a pot at Borealize's head. He missed, of course. Being an airplane pilot had nothing to with good aim.
"Cease this!" Borealize commanded. "We are here to rescue you, good men of the west!"
The four Mithran civilians dropped their randomly grabbed objects on the ground with relief. Since Cleon's departure, they had been given stale bread and dirty water. Most of their luxuries had been stripped from the room. Even their former attendants seemed eager to take advantage of the king's absence to steal a "bite" or two.
"Who are you?" the other pilot asked.
"My name is Borealize and his is Selirithel. We were sent by friends of the brave woman Keladry Mindelan. You have met her, I assume?"
They nodded in reply, still somewhat shocked.
Selirithel narrowed his eyes as his gaze swept the room. "There are only four of you present. Where are the other two? The brothers Mindelan?"
"We don't know," another man answered. "All of a sudden, we just noticed that they were gone. It was before they started treating us badly again. At noon, I think."
Borealize turned to his partner. "Do you sense them?"
The sorcerer held his hands up to shoulder height. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The men around him tensed as they felt a wave radiate out. It made them shiver. He opened his eyes again and sighed.
"There are two in one direction and two in another. I cannot tell the difference from here."
"Shall we seek both pairs out?"
"No. I have been most fortunate to elude the Black City's dark wizards. If I were to face them alone, or with you, perhaps I would be victorious. We cannot protect our charges at the same time." He glanced at the four Mithrans. "Have you any weapons?"
The man who had attacked Borealize with the chair pointed to a corner. "We've broken off bedposts and table legs for clubs."
Borealize nodded. "It will have to suffice."
"We shall fight our way out from this despicable place. My magic cannot stretch over six persons." He paused and drew his hood back slightly to have a better look at his partner's face. "Speaking of which, have you my stone?"
"I…" the other man cringed. "I believe I swallowed it when I valiantly fought off the chair. I apologize, my comrade! I shall return it to you when the stone has passed through my body."
The sorcerer shook his head and almost sardonically replied, "Trust me, friend. You can keep it."
~~
Keladry couldn't leave the infirmary without having a dozen pairs of eyes following her. Soldiers patrolled all of the main hallways now. They would not let her pass into her room to retrieve clothing or food. Everything had to be delivered to her instead.
It wasn't so bad, she supposed. She shouldn't have been leaving Faleron's side anyway. He needed her to protect him from suspicious doctors and the chamberlain, Maggur. She had not seen him since he led Cleon away. Nor did she want to see him ever again. Keladry couldn't trust herself to not kill him if he was within range.
That would be a bad move, in any case. According to her own amateur knowledge (thanks to Battlefield Medicine class at the Academy), she could tell that the wound from the bolt was not infected, and that it would eventually heal. The ribs would heal as well, although it would take a bit longer and Faleron would have to be very careful. Those things didn't worry her anymore.
His fever had come down from its peak yesterday, but it was still there. He almost woke up a few times. Keladry had done all she could to try to cool him down or ease the pain. Unfortunately, she didn't bring any aspirin with her on the trip. And even if she had, it probably would have been taken away. Knowing that he would have a worse headache if he were dehydrated, Keladry attempted to drip tiny amounts of water into his mouth. Though he was technically unconscious, he swallowed reflexively. Since the doses were small, she repeated this every ten minutes.
I wonder if there's a medieval bedpan, she thought idly, almost half amused. The water has to go somewhere if he doesn't sweat it out. A moan from Faleron drew her attention again. She fanned his face with a folded piece of parchment and shushed him motherly again. He fell back into a quiet sleep.
A knocking sound reached her ear. She reluctantly got up from her bedside chair and approached the door. The castle surgeons and healers had retreated to their own offices. They came by the hour, doing little to nothing for Faleron except making low sounds of hopelessness. Keladry alone stayed in the infirmary with the sick man.
"Hello?" She opened the door and stepped backwards.
A dark robed figure bowed to her. The soldier behind him bowed as well. The visitor turned to the soldier and nodded to him, lifting his hood and giving the soldier an impatient look. "You may return to your post now. I am in no need of your presence here."
"Yes, Master Inness," the soldier saluted and marched away.
Keladry, outraged, slammed the door shut. She turned to her elder brother, disbelief in her eyes. "This is not happening."
Inness sighed. He folded his hands in front of him and offered a remorseful expression. "It's not as bad as you think."
"Bad! Inness, this is beyond bad!"
He placed his hands on his sister's shoulders in attempt to calm her down. She swatted his hands away and retreated to Faleron's bedside. Inness followed her and sat down on an adjacent bed. The rosy color in his cheeks showed his embarrassment.
"Look, Kel. I can explain."
She glared at him. "I hope you can."
Her brother nervously played with his left sleeve. The robes engulfed his thin body, even more so than the advisors of the royal court. If his cheeks had been gaunt and if his hair was completely black, he could have passed for one of those evil-minded men.
"Before lunch, most of the men were taking another nap, too bored to do anything else. Conal and I were the only ones awake again. So I was the only one who saw a man enter. The usual attire—black robes, yadda yadda. He didn't look like he wanted to speak with us, but Conal did anyway. I couldn't hear, but I thought it sounded like Conal wanted to stay in the Black City and serve the king."
"You're lying," Keladry said flatly.
"I wish I was," he replied sadly. "The man seemed happy about something Conal said, so I ran up to them and said that I would like to do the same as him. Conal glared at me, but he didn't say anything. So they took us away."
Keladry shook her head. "Wait, so they just took you away and made you one of them? Just like that?"
Inness gestured to his clothing. "Yeah. Just like that. I'm more worried about Conal, though. He meant whatever he said."
"I see." No, she didn't see. How could Conal do this? What had he said that was of such an interest to that man? She had her guesses, but it was not the biggest problem in her mind. Her brother had switched allegiances—if he'd had any allegiances in the first place. Keladry's shoulders visibly slumped.
Inness moved forward and hugged his younger sister awkwardly. "We'll figure something out. In the meantime, I guess I'll stay here with you."
She blinked. "No."
He pulled away. "What do you mean no?"
"I said no. You should stay with Conal. Find out what he's up to. And… and keep him out of trouble."
He looked unsure. "I don't think I'll be capable of doing much, but I'll try."
They got up together and walked to the door. Keladry knew that Inness was very tense. He couldn't imagine himself ever doing something dangerous or risky. Her brother belonged in a classroom, behind a stack of books and papers. He liked it there. More importantly, he was meant to be there.
Not here, she thought. This is too much for him. She hugged him again. Keladry whispered, "Everything is going to be fine. Just relax and watch Conal."
"Easier said than done," Inness replied, smiling. He opened the door. The soldier outside briefly saluted. Her brother nodded to him and lifted his hood over his head again. "Bye, baby sister."
"Bye," she called. Big brother.
~~
"This is a lot cooler than I thought it'd be," Cleon remarked. He was referring to riding a giant wolf, of course. It was the only thing he could bring himself to talk about since Neal had taken the map and become the new navigator. Before then, he had chattered uselessly about the oddities drawn on the map in relation to how things were now. It hadn't helped.
Neal steered them up an incline and toward three different tunnels. His white juvenile wolf led the way, but stopped before it got to the top of the ledge. Joren, whose mount was sliding down the pebbly surface, jumped to the side onto a boulder. It tottered for a few seconds, then became still.
"Hey!" Joren called. "What's going on?"
Neal tried to urge his wolf upward, but it stayed rooted to the spot. "I don't know."
Cleon held the lantern up higher. He frowned. "Who is she?"
The two other men looked up. At the top of the ledge was a familiar Yamani woman with a stubborn mouth and fierce eyes. She sat atop another wolf, smaller than theirs, black and golden eyed. It trotted forward a few steps until it was on the edge, looking down. Neal's wolf backed down a couple of steps until it started sliding as Joren's had done. Then it too jumped to the side onto a more level surface.
"Shinkokami," Joren said dryly. "What are you doing here?"
The wild woman turned toward the blond with disdain. "My kinsman Borealize asked me to take a pack of wolves to this region so he could call on them when he needed them. But I assumed my cousin would need more help than that."
Neal gulped. "You know, your cousin and I… we got along very well. He tells me a lot about you."
Old habits die hard, Joren observed. "He only tells you because you nag him."
"Dude! Somebody want to fill me in, here?" Cleon piped up.
"Well, Cleon," Neal began before he was interrupted.
Shinkokami turned and started toward the middle tunnel. "Do it along the way."
"Along the way, along the way!" the sharpshooter echoed irritably. "It's always having to be explained along the—"
"CLEON!" three voices shouted simultaneously. The sound echoed throughout the caverns, startling a few rodents who did live in the snowy mountains.
~~
Author's note: Yay! I think at the rate I'm going, I might be able to finish the season before I graduate… (a difficult thing to do, now that I look upon the coming year's agenda) Thank you all for your reviews and your feedback. I appreciate them very much and I look forward to future comments/criticisms.
So! Some of you knew it was going to be Conal who betrayed them. Quite obvious, myself, thanks to the last episode I posted that had his thoughts in it. But now the question is, what has he proposed to the royal advisors that made them so interested?
I wasn't going to write a scene from Borealize and Selirithel's point of views, but I thought it was a nice change. Selirithel kind of reminds me of Severus Snape in a non-Snape kind of way. Okay, that didn't make sense. I blame my friend's fanfiction influences. I have never read Harry Potter, nor do I ever plan to. The fanfiction is an entirely different thing.
Thanks again for reading!
-Sulia