AN: Okay, I know I said you guys don't need to review, but, I mean ... I've
got ten reviews, and five are by one person. Four more are by another
person. This is just pitiful, guys. Come on. Please review? Please? For me.
Okay? Thanks a lot.
Chapter Six – Mysteries, A Polite Conversation
Kilik sat, his arms around his knees, in front of him, Kali-Yuga lying beside him. Mitsurugi slept, a crude splint holding his lower leg straight. He had refused to be taken to a hospital. But Kilik had more important things on his mind. As Yunsung snored a ways behind him, and the night crept over the three men rapidly, Kilik wondered about several things.
First were the growing storm clouds. They had been gathering overhead, following the three, for days. They had never grown to begin storming, raining and throwing lightning at the earth, but Kilik knew it was only a matter of time. But this was a minor thing. Most major priority was the strange occurrence during their fight. Kilik had leapt to blind the leader, using a pitiful excuse for an attempt at a delaying move, but instead the man had burst into flame, running screaming from the scene before collapsing, the smell of singed and burning flesh etched into Kilik's mind forever.
He and Yunsung had taken the opportunity, while the bandits were staring, to deal with them. Yunsung had leapt back across the pit with Mitsurugi in it, and sliced a deep ct into one of the crossbowmen's chests. The man had cried out and dropped his weapon, clutching the wound that was seeping blood. Yunsung, screaming a battle cry, had cut down at the swordsman's feet. He screamed as Yunsung severed several blood vessels, mere moments before Yunsung slashed his throat, sending him, gurgling, to the ground.
Kilik had leapt forward, striking one of the men with the end of his staff, breaking his windpipe, before jumping up and swinging the staff over his head, smashing it into the side of one of the men's heads, snapping his neck quickly and efficiently. He had swung around, breaking a man's leg, then slamming the staff into his chest. Kilik couldn't remember the rest. It was just another fight with demoralized opponents.
But the man bursting into flames had never happened before. Kilik was confused. It seemed he had done it, but he had no idea how. Mitsurugi didn't know of it. Yunsung and Kilik had decided not to tell him. He probably suspected something, but he had given nothing away.
The last mystery Kilik pondered was Maxi. He had disappeared twelve hours ago, saying he would 'not be long. Don't wait up.' Unless the enemies had defeated Maxi, which was unlikely, something could have happened, or they were farther behind than the men had suspected. Either way, Maxi would possibly be some time before rejoining them. Kilik was worried. Worried for himself and his sanity. Worried for Maxi, and worried for the fate of the world. Something big was happening elsewhere.
He could tell.
-
Talim awoke with a yawn, looking around, half-expecting to be lying in a garbage dump somewhere, everything with Sir James having been a dream. But she was lying in the massive bed, in the large room filled with beautiful objects. She rose, finding her blades returned by the side of her bed, and marvelling at the excellence surrounding her. She was in a manor. An actual English manor, let alone one she had admired from the docks.
She moved to the window, seeing much less splendour. This window overlooked the Channel, and she could see the massive storm clouds gathering over the Channel, sweeping in massive circles, the occasional bolt of lightning striking the water. She could see the docks becoming more and more deserted as all the sailors not native to London began were leaving. Most were already gone. The Portuguese ship she had come in was leaving, having sold or unloaded all its cargo. Talim couldn't believe it. She had come to London because it was supposed to be the centre of the world, or so she had heard from the Englishmen who had come to her village. But this – This just seemed odd. A massive storm, which she had seen gathering for over a week, but never actually storming, covering half of France, the entire English Channel, Belgium, Holland, going into Germany and Southern England, and part of Spain.
She walked to the bathroom, marvelling at the Valentines' bathroom. It had plumbing, and a private bathroom for this bedroom. She was amazed at the splendour and magnificence these people lived in on a daily basis. She had a short bath, cleaning herself, and put on a change of clothes, more fancy clothes than her travelling clothes, for her meeting with Countess Isabella Valentine. Just as she had finished, Sir James opened the door, bowing. "Are you ready yet, Miss Talim?" he asked.
She nodded, embarrassed, hiding her red cheeks. "Yes, Sir W – James. I'm ready."
She looked longingly at her blades, but knew that if she was attacked by these people, which seemed unlikely after what they had done for her, she would be dead with or without the blades. She followed Sir James as he walked out of the room, leading her down the hall and through another door.
She gasped, standing in shock for a moment in the doorway. This bedroom was amazing. It had a king-sized bed, with curtains around it, and a massive painting of a man looking magnificent in a fanciful outfit, frowning at the unseen viewers of the painting. It was titled 'Marcus Alexandrus Valentine'. A sword case leaned against the wall, beside a bedside table. A large walk-in dresser was against the wall, and other magnificent ornaments decorated the room. However, the one thing that captivated Talim's attention above all else was the sword hanging above the painting of Marcus Valentine. It was large, what was known as a bastard sword, designed to be wielded in either one or two hands. Inset in the hilt was a blood-red ruby, gleaming in the light from the window. The sword went out, narrowing only slightly, for a blade about five feet long, at the most. Most men would need to lift it with two hands. It looked heavy. The blade seemed polished, well-cared for. The handle seemed to be metal wrapped in black leather, with a dull grey stone inset in the pommel. Beneath the sword hung a black leather scabbard, the same size as the sword.
Talim blinked, shaking away her wonder as she noticed the armchair placed to face the window. It seemed to have someone in it. Talim began to turn, to ask Sir James something, but he was gone, leaving her standing in the doorway of the room. Talim was about to speak, to introduce herself, when the person in the chair spoke. "Hello, Talim."
It was a quiet voice, but powerful. Talim stood and blinked, about to speak again when the voice interrupted her. "Come here."
Talim walked over to beside the armchair. "Look out the window. What do you see?" the chair asked.
"I see ... I see the Channel, and storm clouds gathering over it. Strange storm clouds, though. And I see a city. And ... docks, but very few ships."
The chair turned to face Talim, and in it was sitting a beautiful woman with short white hair. She was wearing a loose gown, the kind she would wear around the house, but not outside. "Very good, Talim, you're observant. But until you start looking with your heart, and your soul, not your mind, you won't see what's really there. I'm the Countess, Isabella Valentine."
Talim blinked at the change of topic. "I'm sorry to go back, Countess," she said, stumbling over the title, "but what do you see out the window?"
Ivy smiled. "I was hoping you would ask. I see fear. I see death. I see a terrified group of people, living in a disgusting city, and I see doom. The people are scared, Talim. The people of London are terrified, because they can tell what I can tell, what you can tell, what all present in this city can tell. It's why the sailors are leaving. But I'll tell you about that later. Please, eat."
She gestured to a table, laden with food. Talim realized she was starving, but hadn't realized it before. She rushed to the table and began devouring food. Toast began to disappear, followed by two apples, and a glass of water. Talim sat down at the table, still eating, but slower, as Ivy, smiling at Talim's appetite, began to talk again. Talim turned her attention to her. "You're probably wondering who I am, and why I brought you here."
Talim nodded, and Ivy continued. "I saw you in a dream, setting out from a village, several months ago, then heard from my contacts in Portugal that an Asian girl had arrived in Lisbon, asking for transport to London. I had them learn your name, because their description matched exactly the girl from my dreams, and it seems I was right. It is you. You're the girl from my dream."
Talim seemed confused. "Why did you dream about my, Countess?"
"Please, call me Isabella," Ivy replied with a wave of her hand.
"Isabella," Talim corrected herself, "Why did you dream of me?"
"I can tell," Ivy replied, looking deep into Talim's eyes as if gazing into her soul. "Something big is happening, somewhere. Before it's done, it's going to affect every single person in the world. And some that aren't from this world. Some beings that no one knows exist. But you, Talim, will play a very important role in it. You know of what I'm speaking, don't you?"
"I ... have dreams," Talim replied. "About ... Armies of monsters ... and evil men in black armour, and a beast with a massive axe ..."
Ivy nodded. "And of Nightmare."
Talim nodded.
Ivy smiled ever so slightly. "So I'm not the only crazy one. But we, the two of us, and Sir James, we have a job to do, Talim. The monsters you see in your dreams, and the evil men, are led by a freak named Astaroth, the favourite of the god of war. And Astaroth has but one purpose in his head: To destroy the civilized world. His only goal is to kill us all. And he has the means to do it, if we are all divided. But if we unify, present a strong front, we can defeat him."
Talim blinked and shook her head. "Hold on, C – Isabella. This is a bit too much for me. What's going on?"
Ivy smiled. "I thought it might have been a bit much. But you'll see in time. Astaroth is heading here. He won't start his campaign in London, that's for sure."
Talim blinked again, taking a bite from a pancake. "I'm a bit confused."
Ivy smiled. "I'll show you all my stuff in a bit. But I promised you I would explain about the storms and the fleeing sailors. The fear-stricken city. Come, look out the window."
Talim put down the pancake, rose, and went to the window. Ivy stood, looking out beside her. "The city. You can see the city. What can you tell about it?"
Talim shrugged. "It's London."
Ivy smiled. "The people are scared. They're terrified. They don't know why, but it's just a feeling. They can't help it, any more than you can help the fact you were born a girl. They think it might have something to do with the storm. But they don't know. Almost no one knows. Not even the king. Talim, we need to get proof. We'll show it to the king. But that's for later."
Talim smiled. This Countess seemed crazy, but she was very level-headed, making Talim almost believe her. Talim could almost believe in this Astaroth. He did appear in her dreams.
"I sent a group of four warriors away about a month and a half ago," Ivy continued. "They're searching for a key, although only the leader knows this. Not a literal key, but a clue to how to defeat Astaroth and his armies. But I'm probably boring you. I have something I need to do. I will be back later. Please do not leave the house. That is my only request."
She nodded to Talim, then turned and walked out through the door. Talim, confused, and bewildered from Ivy's confusing talk, simply stood there for a minute or two.
AN: Ugh. Don't like this one all that much. Ivy just seems too whacko. Just so you know, she's not crazy. She's not supposed to be. She's just supposed to seem mysterious. Ugh. Don't like this one at ALL. Blegh.
Chapter Six – Mysteries, A Polite Conversation
Kilik sat, his arms around his knees, in front of him, Kali-Yuga lying beside him. Mitsurugi slept, a crude splint holding his lower leg straight. He had refused to be taken to a hospital. But Kilik had more important things on his mind. As Yunsung snored a ways behind him, and the night crept over the three men rapidly, Kilik wondered about several things.
First were the growing storm clouds. They had been gathering overhead, following the three, for days. They had never grown to begin storming, raining and throwing lightning at the earth, but Kilik knew it was only a matter of time. But this was a minor thing. Most major priority was the strange occurrence during their fight. Kilik had leapt to blind the leader, using a pitiful excuse for an attempt at a delaying move, but instead the man had burst into flame, running screaming from the scene before collapsing, the smell of singed and burning flesh etched into Kilik's mind forever.
He and Yunsung had taken the opportunity, while the bandits were staring, to deal with them. Yunsung had leapt back across the pit with Mitsurugi in it, and sliced a deep ct into one of the crossbowmen's chests. The man had cried out and dropped his weapon, clutching the wound that was seeping blood. Yunsung, screaming a battle cry, had cut down at the swordsman's feet. He screamed as Yunsung severed several blood vessels, mere moments before Yunsung slashed his throat, sending him, gurgling, to the ground.
Kilik had leapt forward, striking one of the men with the end of his staff, breaking his windpipe, before jumping up and swinging the staff over his head, smashing it into the side of one of the men's heads, snapping his neck quickly and efficiently. He had swung around, breaking a man's leg, then slamming the staff into his chest. Kilik couldn't remember the rest. It was just another fight with demoralized opponents.
But the man bursting into flames had never happened before. Kilik was confused. It seemed he had done it, but he had no idea how. Mitsurugi didn't know of it. Yunsung and Kilik had decided not to tell him. He probably suspected something, but he had given nothing away.
The last mystery Kilik pondered was Maxi. He had disappeared twelve hours ago, saying he would 'not be long. Don't wait up.' Unless the enemies had defeated Maxi, which was unlikely, something could have happened, or they were farther behind than the men had suspected. Either way, Maxi would possibly be some time before rejoining them. Kilik was worried. Worried for himself and his sanity. Worried for Maxi, and worried for the fate of the world. Something big was happening elsewhere.
He could tell.
-
Talim awoke with a yawn, looking around, half-expecting to be lying in a garbage dump somewhere, everything with Sir James having been a dream. But she was lying in the massive bed, in the large room filled with beautiful objects. She rose, finding her blades returned by the side of her bed, and marvelling at the excellence surrounding her. She was in a manor. An actual English manor, let alone one she had admired from the docks.
She moved to the window, seeing much less splendour. This window overlooked the Channel, and she could see the massive storm clouds gathering over the Channel, sweeping in massive circles, the occasional bolt of lightning striking the water. She could see the docks becoming more and more deserted as all the sailors not native to London began were leaving. Most were already gone. The Portuguese ship she had come in was leaving, having sold or unloaded all its cargo. Talim couldn't believe it. She had come to London because it was supposed to be the centre of the world, or so she had heard from the Englishmen who had come to her village. But this – This just seemed odd. A massive storm, which she had seen gathering for over a week, but never actually storming, covering half of France, the entire English Channel, Belgium, Holland, going into Germany and Southern England, and part of Spain.
She walked to the bathroom, marvelling at the Valentines' bathroom. It had plumbing, and a private bathroom for this bedroom. She was amazed at the splendour and magnificence these people lived in on a daily basis. She had a short bath, cleaning herself, and put on a change of clothes, more fancy clothes than her travelling clothes, for her meeting with Countess Isabella Valentine. Just as she had finished, Sir James opened the door, bowing. "Are you ready yet, Miss Talim?" he asked.
She nodded, embarrassed, hiding her red cheeks. "Yes, Sir W – James. I'm ready."
She looked longingly at her blades, but knew that if she was attacked by these people, which seemed unlikely after what they had done for her, she would be dead with or without the blades. She followed Sir James as he walked out of the room, leading her down the hall and through another door.
She gasped, standing in shock for a moment in the doorway. This bedroom was amazing. It had a king-sized bed, with curtains around it, and a massive painting of a man looking magnificent in a fanciful outfit, frowning at the unseen viewers of the painting. It was titled 'Marcus Alexandrus Valentine'. A sword case leaned against the wall, beside a bedside table. A large walk-in dresser was against the wall, and other magnificent ornaments decorated the room. However, the one thing that captivated Talim's attention above all else was the sword hanging above the painting of Marcus Valentine. It was large, what was known as a bastard sword, designed to be wielded in either one or two hands. Inset in the hilt was a blood-red ruby, gleaming in the light from the window. The sword went out, narrowing only slightly, for a blade about five feet long, at the most. Most men would need to lift it with two hands. It looked heavy. The blade seemed polished, well-cared for. The handle seemed to be metal wrapped in black leather, with a dull grey stone inset in the pommel. Beneath the sword hung a black leather scabbard, the same size as the sword.
Talim blinked, shaking away her wonder as she noticed the armchair placed to face the window. It seemed to have someone in it. Talim began to turn, to ask Sir James something, but he was gone, leaving her standing in the doorway of the room. Talim was about to speak, to introduce herself, when the person in the chair spoke. "Hello, Talim."
It was a quiet voice, but powerful. Talim stood and blinked, about to speak again when the voice interrupted her. "Come here."
Talim walked over to beside the armchair. "Look out the window. What do you see?" the chair asked.
"I see ... I see the Channel, and storm clouds gathering over it. Strange storm clouds, though. And I see a city. And ... docks, but very few ships."
The chair turned to face Talim, and in it was sitting a beautiful woman with short white hair. She was wearing a loose gown, the kind she would wear around the house, but not outside. "Very good, Talim, you're observant. But until you start looking with your heart, and your soul, not your mind, you won't see what's really there. I'm the Countess, Isabella Valentine."
Talim blinked at the change of topic. "I'm sorry to go back, Countess," she said, stumbling over the title, "but what do you see out the window?"
Ivy smiled. "I was hoping you would ask. I see fear. I see death. I see a terrified group of people, living in a disgusting city, and I see doom. The people are scared, Talim. The people of London are terrified, because they can tell what I can tell, what you can tell, what all present in this city can tell. It's why the sailors are leaving. But I'll tell you about that later. Please, eat."
She gestured to a table, laden with food. Talim realized she was starving, but hadn't realized it before. She rushed to the table and began devouring food. Toast began to disappear, followed by two apples, and a glass of water. Talim sat down at the table, still eating, but slower, as Ivy, smiling at Talim's appetite, began to talk again. Talim turned her attention to her. "You're probably wondering who I am, and why I brought you here."
Talim nodded, and Ivy continued. "I saw you in a dream, setting out from a village, several months ago, then heard from my contacts in Portugal that an Asian girl had arrived in Lisbon, asking for transport to London. I had them learn your name, because their description matched exactly the girl from my dreams, and it seems I was right. It is you. You're the girl from my dream."
Talim seemed confused. "Why did you dream about my, Countess?"
"Please, call me Isabella," Ivy replied with a wave of her hand.
"Isabella," Talim corrected herself, "Why did you dream of me?"
"I can tell," Ivy replied, looking deep into Talim's eyes as if gazing into her soul. "Something big is happening, somewhere. Before it's done, it's going to affect every single person in the world. And some that aren't from this world. Some beings that no one knows exist. But you, Talim, will play a very important role in it. You know of what I'm speaking, don't you?"
"I ... have dreams," Talim replied. "About ... Armies of monsters ... and evil men in black armour, and a beast with a massive axe ..."
Ivy nodded. "And of Nightmare."
Talim nodded.
Ivy smiled ever so slightly. "So I'm not the only crazy one. But we, the two of us, and Sir James, we have a job to do, Talim. The monsters you see in your dreams, and the evil men, are led by a freak named Astaroth, the favourite of the god of war. And Astaroth has but one purpose in his head: To destroy the civilized world. His only goal is to kill us all. And he has the means to do it, if we are all divided. But if we unify, present a strong front, we can defeat him."
Talim blinked and shook her head. "Hold on, C – Isabella. This is a bit too much for me. What's going on?"
Ivy smiled. "I thought it might have been a bit much. But you'll see in time. Astaroth is heading here. He won't start his campaign in London, that's for sure."
Talim blinked again, taking a bite from a pancake. "I'm a bit confused."
Ivy smiled. "I'll show you all my stuff in a bit. But I promised you I would explain about the storms and the fleeing sailors. The fear-stricken city. Come, look out the window."
Talim put down the pancake, rose, and went to the window. Ivy stood, looking out beside her. "The city. You can see the city. What can you tell about it?"
Talim shrugged. "It's London."
Ivy smiled. "The people are scared. They're terrified. They don't know why, but it's just a feeling. They can't help it, any more than you can help the fact you were born a girl. They think it might have something to do with the storm. But they don't know. Almost no one knows. Not even the king. Talim, we need to get proof. We'll show it to the king. But that's for later."
Talim smiled. This Countess seemed crazy, but she was very level-headed, making Talim almost believe her. Talim could almost believe in this Astaroth. He did appear in her dreams.
"I sent a group of four warriors away about a month and a half ago," Ivy continued. "They're searching for a key, although only the leader knows this. Not a literal key, but a clue to how to defeat Astaroth and his armies. But I'm probably boring you. I have something I need to do. I will be back later. Please do not leave the house. That is my only request."
She nodded to Talim, then turned and walked out through the door. Talim, confused, and bewildered from Ivy's confusing talk, simply stood there for a minute or two.
AN: Ugh. Don't like this one all that much. Ivy just seems too whacko. Just so you know, she's not crazy. She's not supposed to be. She's just supposed to seem mysterious. Ugh. Don't like this one at ALL. Blegh.