Knock On Wood
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Author's Notes getting shorter, yes. Personal characters being stupid. Novel's writer's block. Having not much to say. Here be next chapter.
Klox: Whoa, did she just insult us?
Aughus: Well we are giving her a hard time. At least, you are. I'm not even part of the story yet!
Yachi: ……...ingrates.
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Chapter Four: Outset
"Hey, Clive!"
Gallows reined in his horse, squinting his eyes at the shimmering image of the ruins that loomed before them. The sun beat down like an entertaining eye, completely baking the two Drifters that currently scoured the site of their destination. So far, their search for a point of impregnation was a failure.
Clive had set about examining the hieroglyphics etched on the stone surface of the temple. At first, they had seemed like an obvious clue to the key they needed for entry, but since they had faded over time, he was barely able to make out more than a few words -- none of which helped him solve his problem. When he heard Gallow's voice over the deadly stillness of the air, he looked up from his study and waved his response. Yelling would simply make his throat worse than it already was.
"Over here, I think you should see this!" Gallows had no trouble with his voice. He had been raised in a village where this constant state of dryness and dehydration was common.
The red-clad Drifter nudged his mount into a swift canter, stirring up a cloud as he crossed the dusty terrain. When he slowed again, he took immediate notice of the grave expression on his comrade's face.
"Have you found an entrance?" Clive wanted to know. Just to make sure, he rescanned the exterior of the ruins with a glance, giving clarity to his anxious reasons.
"Well, no," Gallows admitted. "I don't know how to say this, but uh…look over there."
Clive's gaze followed the direction where the Baskar gestured. Sure enough, there lay a set of indents in the sand near the base of the temple that roughly resembled a horse's tracks. They were old and blurred by the moving sands, but there was no mistaking them for what they were. He traced their path until the disappeared around the far corner of the ruins.
"They appear to be only a few days old," commented older Drifter, thoughtfully adjusting his glasses. "Assuming Bell's information is accurate, they may belong to Kaitlyn."
There was a pause between companions that no amount of understanding could prevent. After a few moments, Gallows made a solemn face. "You want me to go first? You know, we could find pretty much anything…"
"Thank you, Gallows," said Clive, understanding his level of caution. "But it is better for me to assume the lead now. I could not imagine…"
"Yeah," said the Baskar. "You're right. So, Mr. Leader, lead on!"
Their mounts traipsed across the terrain, nearing the opposite end of the temple. With every covered inch, Clive's heart seemed to beat faster and faster. He had meant to say that he could not imagine what he would do if he found that something terrible had happened to Kaitlyn. There was nothing less than truth in this either, for he honestly did not know. He gave no consideration to it, but hope and fear was no merciful to him as they rounded the corner of the primeval building.
The tracks stopped altogether when the rear of the temple came into view. The sight that greeted them was panicking and lightening at the same time.
An unfamiliar steed was tacked to base of a withered, stringy bush nearby. It still bore its packs filled with traveling supplies, which including several water skins, food containers, and various ammo clips that hung from the saddle straps, some empty and others full. Clive did not need a second glance at the cased bullets to recognize what kind of gun they belonged to.
Gallows glanced uneasily at Clive's horse as they rode to a stop, as if the make sure it was still there. Aside from the colour of the strange horse's saddle and its design, both mounts have easily passed as the same animal. The other horse lifted its head as the neared it, whickering a weary greeting before returning its business to the dried, scattered fodder that lined the ground.
"Okay," said Gallows, when neither of them had an immediate response. "This is officially weird."
"Actually," said Clive. In a sudden hurry, he dismounted from his chocolate-brown gelding and began to walk towards the unfamiliar horse. "We may have found exactly what we were looking for."
"Say what?" Gallows was quick to follow suit, knowing full well that their horses were trained enough to remain in one place without wandering off. "Did I miss something?"
"These bullets," said Clive, cautious in his approach to the strange mount. He ran a soothing hand along the steed's neck, assuring the gentle beast that he was not here to do harm. "They belong to an ARM I once used to train with -- the Seawolf ME14."
Gallows' face distorted with surprise. "Then Kaitlyn's…?"
"Still inside, it seems," came the hasty reply. Clive's tone then changed considerably. "Gallows, please do not get me wrong. I must assume, after all that has transpired, that something horrific has happened to her."
"Hey, don't worry about it, Clive!" said Gallows with a genuine cheerfulness to his voice. "Something tells me she's just fine and dandy, and that's a Baskar's priestly intuition. You can't mess with that."
Clive smiled grimly, but there was a definite assurance to Gallows' claims that could not be ignored. "That is true," he said gratefully. "Even though five years have passed, I cannot help but picture her as the Kaitlyn I know. She is still too young to unfold her wings…she is vulnerable to the harsh elements against her."
Gallows did not know how to respond. Instead of voicing his purpose, however, he merely nodded and fixed his eyes on the towering form of the temple ahead.
"I believe she used that fissure to enter the ruins," said Clive, accepting Gallows' silent nod as a mutual understanding. The green-haired Drifter was looking directly at a caved-in section in the wall nearest to them. "The opening seems large enough to admit us both providing we remove our ARMs first and pass them through separately."
"Good plan," said Gallows, relieved to have a change of subject. "I guess since I'm bigger, I go first."
"That is the most reasonable course of action," Clive agreed. "Once inside, I suggest we split up and take separate paths. Doing so will significantly decrease our search area."
This time, Gallows hesitated. Predicting Virginia's reaction to Clive's 'suggestion' was the easy part, but applying it to the situation was much more difficult. It sounded like the right thing to do, but was it also the safest?
"I dunno, Clive," said Gallows. "Only one of us can have the Teleport Orb at a time. Say one of us gets into trouble and can't get out?"
"That is why," said Clive, "you will take the Orb, and I shall contact you through the Guardians should the need arise."
Gallows remained unsure and scratched the back of his neck to express that uncertainty. "Sounds risky," he said sullenly. "This place is like a labyrinth. Trying to find each other inside is like staying awake for one of Granny's lectures."
"We cannot risk the time to formulate another plan," Clive insisted. "This may be our only option!"
The Baskar looked skeptical, but he finally caved. "Alright," he said cautiously. "It goes way against my instincts, but I'm game." He proceeded to unfasten his Modified Coyote M17F from the strap around his waist and handed it over to Clive. "Careful, still loaded," he said as an afterthought.
As the priestly Baskar approached the narrow crevice, Clive titled his face to the peak of the large temple. Just how far within the ruins had Kaitlyn gone? Why would she leave her surplus rounds with her mount? Had someone, perhaps, kidnapped her?
His grip tightened around the barrel of Gallows' ARM. There were worse things, he decided. He tried not to think of them, but he knew there were a great number of things young females were unsuspecting to in this mummified world
No, his invoked Guardians did nothing to tell him of an evil intent here. They did, however, suddenly detect a streak of fear and misery from deep within the walls of the temple. Immediately, Clive's eyes snapped open as the barest flicker of a familiar voice reached the depth of his heart. His mediums rang out with alarm.
Kaitlyn!
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Unaccustomed to the cold and hardly dressed appropriately for its stinging bite, Kaitlyn huddled in her little nook and shivered. From somewhere, possibly an unseen vent or adjoining fissure, a very unwelcome draft of cool air pelted her from behind. It was much to dark to see the exact location of the vent, and the hole was much too narrow to turn around. She tried to think of better things as she waited the monster out.
Was it day? Was it night? She wasn't sure, she realized. She had been cramped up in the same position for a long time, she supposed. She had fallen asleep and woken up twice, fighting back her hunger pains and the terrible ache in her dehydrated throat every time consciousness came over her.
The dragon-creature had moved as well. Once or twice, it had actually picked itself and moved off to one side of the room. She hadn't moved, hearing its rattling breath and a few simultaneous growls as it communicated with another of its kind – its mate, perhaps. Minutes later it would return with traces of another animal's blood on its scaly lips.
The hunter was being fed, but the prey starved on. Kaitlyn could not dismiss the grief she felt when the fact dawned upon her that she would not likely leave this place alive.
I had come so far...Her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions. I almost had the entire inscription! I could have found the treasure, I could have had the gella to become a real Drifter...
That was no longer possible. Unless she crawled out of the crack and allowed the impatient monster to take her life, she would slowly waste away in this little, horizontal grave.
But that was not something she would do, especially not when the dragon expected it. Whether it was being unnaturally kind by giving her a choice of deaths or not, she didn't care. She would not give it the satisfaction.
Kaitlyn uttered a slightly surprised whimper of pain as she tired to shift her legs. Her knee had been jammed against the corner of some loose brick and it pained her horribly. She was sure it had started to bleed, but it had become raw and scabbed over a certain period of time. How long she had been like this, however, she had no idea.
Her wrist had stopped throbbing many hours ago. The aching was evident, but unless she tried to move her arm, she almost forgot about the sprain. As for her shin, the bruise had swollen up and stung with ferocity that not even she could ignore.
She wondered what dying would be like. Would it happen gradually, like a heavy fatigue that simply wore on and made you sleep? Or would it be like a bullet, quick and sudden where she would have no warning, no chance to say her final prayers?
Vaguely, she wondered about her horse. She had left it tied up just outside the ruins, and now there would be no one to set her free. Subconsciously, she hoped that the brave mare would somehow break free and find her way home...or at least find a new owner that would take care of her.
Kaitlyn closed her eyes, focusing on the almost melodic sounds of the abandoned ruined. There was an occasional grunt or growl, the sound of trickling water (which meant the creature had an source of refreshment as well) and the snuffling of the dragon's breath. In reality it lay quietly staring at her from only four yards away, but when she could not see it, it sounded as if it were sleeping just beside her.
When the monster was not trying to kill her, he seemed almost peaceful. His beady, golden eyes were just as sharp and cunning as before, yet they had dull from one extent to another. It merely glared with boredom at the present, obviously not enjoying the task of babysitting a doomed, human child.
Kaitlyn buried her face in her uninjured arm. Why would the dragon not go away? Surely, it could have found some larger, more satisfying meal by now. Perhaps it was not generously allowing her the option of a short and nearly painless death, but cruelly waiting for her to shrivel up and die? Even without the spoils of the hunt, it would see her die from sheer, murderous spite!
Or...perhaps there was more? The creature could be protecting its territory, after all. Until this unusual and unwelcome threat was gone for sure, it would most likely not abandon its guard.
Unless there was another reason it wanted her to die. Duty, maybe? And order? It surely did not look as if it wanted to be there, and just maybe it regretted doing this as well. She had heard the snarling arguments it had with its mate whenever it brought food to share. At first, shed assumed the fights were over the kill, in savage and brutal decision over who got the choicest morsel. Now she was not so sure.
Then again, it was a ridiculous notion. She felt better assuming that she was going to die as prey, not as a nuisance pitied by her killer.
The thirteen-year-old girl waited for some time, taking no comfort in the sounds that continuously played in her ears. They were beginning to wear on her, like an endless mental torture.
Drip, drip, drip. Growl. Drip. A shuffling sound. Drip. Drip.
Suddenly, her mind buckled. A very piercing and unexpected noise completely jolted her out of her state of misery. It was a long, drawn out sound with a certain pitch and human quality.
Someone was whistling.
At first, she thought she had been imagining things. The whistling faded from her concentration, as she could not longer hear it. Then had it been her imagination? Was it just another unexplained sound?
No, there it was again. This time, she knew it was not a figment of her thoughts, but the real thing. Whoever was whistling was carrying a tune so familiar to her senses that she wanted to scream out in joy and surprise at the same time. The song that strung together by the uplifting and falling notes was a song she had heard many times in her childhood.
There were no lyrics sung now, but the words automatically filled her head.
Down to where the river flows,
To where no man or creature goes,
Say hey again, sing high, sing low…
A Drifter…? Kaitlyn wearily lifted her head, opening her mouth in a weak attempt to make her voice work. Nothing would pass through her dry, sticky throat an airy hissing sound.
The creature outside the crevice had also heard the piercing tune on the air. It stood poised and silent, as if it were listening intently with its invisible, however apparently accurate ears. It did not move nor flinch, waiting for its unseen foe to appear.
The whistling grew louder. Considering how its melody bounced off the walls of the hollow corridors and never seemed to stop echoing, Kaitlyn was unable to tell which direction it was emanating from.
She tried to wet her throat and barely succeeded. However, this time when she spoke, she managed to croak, "H…help…"
It was pathetic. She doubted even the dragon monster had heard her plea for aid, let alone the human bounty hunter she was trying to communicate with. Kaitlyn coughed purposely, forcing her throat to clear enough to work out a yell at an appropriate level.
"H-Help me…please, help! I'm…I'm over here! This way! Please!"
At once, the whistling ceased. Kaitlyn's heart surged hopefully, but she feared strongly that the Drifter had simply chosen this time to stop playing his tune.
Then, as she began to assume the worst, a voice answered her entreaty. "Kaitlyn? That you?"
Kaitlyn hastily subdued the bewilderment that besieged her thoughts. So, had her Nan sent out a hired hand to search for her already? As much as it bothered her to be thought of as a child, she silently prayed and thanked the old woman over a thousand times. She was going to be rescued…
But that voice…it sounded so familiar…
"Y-Yes, it's me!" she cried out, wincing involuntarily when her parched throat roared with pain. "Over here! In the…in the puzzle room!"
"Hey, all right!" the voice cheered back, triumphantly. "I'm comin', squirt!"
Every nerve in Kaitlyn's body froze. Squirt? The only one that ever called her 'squirt' was…
A loud shot interrupted her thoughts. Almost as quickly as she came to her senses, the creature outside of her crevice leapt into the air, yowling. She heard three, faint clicks of the dragon's claws attaching to the red grates before the sounds dispersed completely. For the first time in possibly days, Kaitlyn felt absolutely safe to emerge from her dark little hole.
Whoever had fired their ARM now shuffled hurriedly across the room. The area just outside of the crevice was abruptly filled with an unidentifiable figure. A rough, but friendly voice reached her ears like a loud bell on a quiet day.
"Thank the Guardians!" he boomed jovially. "Gimme a second, Kaitlyn, I'll get you outta there."
She put up no resistance as the amazingly familiar Drifter reached through the dim crack and secured his hands under her shoulders. She gathered her aching legs beneath her and pushed off the ground finding herself lifted free of the tight little space she thought she never would have left.
As soon as the big man placed her on the ground, she looked up. The face of Gallows Caradine grinned down at her, as if waiting for some violent explosion to take place.
It did. Kaitlyn lunged at the towering Baskar and threw her arms around his middle. "U-Uncle Gallows…Uncle Gallows!
Gallows could tell that she was crying -- most likely with relief and joy. Feeling his heart completely melt by her affection, he gently returned her hug. "Hey, half-pint!" he said cheerfully, using one of his many nicknames for her. "Aw, come on…you're makin' me blush!"
Kaitlyn was rambling on, barely coherent with her torrent of words. "I just thought I'd never, never get out of there, and you're here of all people! I'm just so, so relieved that you're okay and I'm okay, and I was so scared! You've been gone away so long, and Daddy never ever came back, and then Mommy left, and I wanted to look for her, but that horrible, horrible monster…!"
"Easy, easy," said the Baskar as they broke their embrace. Despite her shockingly obvious increase in age, she was still a very small person for thirteen. He lifted her clear off the ground again, swung her about in a full circle with incredible ease, and set her down on the short wall dividing the room.
"Uncle Gallows," she laughed heartily. "Cut it out, I'm too old for that!"
"Not in my standards you're not," he said in return. "Wow," he added with genuine marvel. "You don't even look like the Katie I knew!"
"I grew up, silly," she said with a permanent smile. Her elation was not dead yet, but some confusion mixed with her tone. "You…you never visited before…how come you came here? How did you know…?"
"Whoa, slow down," said the Baskar priest. He reached for his water skin and offered it to here. "Here, squirt, nice and cold."
Kaitlyn did not need to be told twice. With a sudden ferocity, she seized the water source from his outstretched hand, uncapped it and practically began inhaling its contents. She began to sputter when she realized that it was not just cold, but really, really, really cold.
"Hey, what'd I just say?" said Gallows, tilting the end of the skin away from her face. "I didn't just rescue you so you could drown yourself."
"Sorry," she said between coughs. She did not pause to catch her breath, however, but placed the water skin to her lips again and drank -- slower, but just as satisfying.
When she was finished, she dabbed her lips on her dusty sleeve and handed the skin back to Gallows, who put it back in its proper place. Kaitlyn breathed deeply for a moment and then gazed up at him. "Uncle Gallows…how did you find me here? Is…is Daddy…"
The Baskar dropped his expression for a moment, coming to a sudden realization. Clive was on the other side of the ruins by now, and he didn't have the Teleport Orb! Another thing that stupefied Gallows was the prospect that they had not even agreed on a time to regroup after they had either found Kaitlyn, or given up searching.
"Is Daddy okay?" the girl almost whispered. Fear crept into her voice.
Gallows jolted back into reality, blinking in surprise. "H-Huh? No, no, no…Clive is just fine! In fact, he's-"
Kaitlyn bounded to her feet. "Daddy?" she exclaimed dazedly. "You know where he is? Oh, please, please tell me Uncle Gallows! P-Please…I'll do anything to know where he is…"
Gallows was taken aback by her regretless insistency. He fumbled for the right words to say, and ended up choosing bits and pieces of random explanations he'd rehearsed previously. "He's uh…well, you could say…uh, that he's here…"
Kaitlyn's face paled. "Wh-Where is he?" she said, full of wonder and unimaginable delight.
"He came looking for you," said Gallows, with a wide smile. "Trust me, squirt, you've never seen him this seriously worried."
"He's looking for me?" she replied in return, as if she'd adapted to repeating everything he said. "He…he's worried about me, but…Uncle Gallows? Where were you…why did you…and Daddy…"
Gallows had a pained expression on his face. "Kaitlyn, that's a bit tough for me to explain. But Clive never meant for you to be all alone! It kinda sounds strange, but none of us could help what happened…"
"But, he…" Kaitlyn hunched her shoulders, feeling an overwhelming grief take over her actions. "Because Daddy never came back, Mommy…and everyone thought he…"
Gallows never had a chance to reply. As soon as he opened his mouth to reply, a shock ran throughout his entire body as his mediums screamed to him in alarm. Something bad was happening.
Kaitlyn watched her 'uncle' Gallows fall back in surprise, and dashed forward. "Uncle Gallows, what's wrong?"
"Ouch…" Gallows mumbled, bring his head to his head. But concern flooded him for his friend. The mediums of Schturdark and Fengalon continued to trembled in anticipation. "Clive…he's in trouble."
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I have an odd question. I have been reading over this story, and something about it doesn't seem to fit quite right…I don't know exactly what it is. Is it my writing style? Why can't I see the big flaw? IT'S DRIVING ME NUTS!!!
Oi…well. Replies. First of all, for Teefa…um…connection? I dunno what you mean there. There's no direct connection between the Winsletts and the Maxwells that I know of…or IS THERE? (dramatic music plays) Anyway. To Black Waltz…$19.95!?!?!?!?! I don't have that kind of money! You know how hard that is to scrape up in Canadian money? That's three hours of work for me! HA! AHAHAHA!. Ahem. Yes, well…Hana, terribly sorry it pains you but you're gonna hafta get used to it. Why? It's an angst story. Expect much BW0-like angst later on. It's HER fault! (points accusingly at Black Waltz 0) Wolfsbane…yessss…my underling…we all loves to do evilssss…mweeheeheehee!
Sigh.