Stybba struggled and tried her very hardest to catch up to the much more powerful black stallion galloping many paces ahead of her, her white ears set back in determination and ignoring the extra weight of another person riding on her back. Virginia gripped her reins tightly and wished that Gallows and Mearas would slow just a little bit for them to catch up, the verdant turf beaten by a flurry of thundering hooves. She and Jet would have readily taken Arod instead of the docile white mare, had the bad-tempered horse decided to obey Jet for once. Faster and much more agile, it seemed like the better choice. However, after nearly being kicked twice, Jet got the message and left the grouchy animal alone.
Gallows finally noticed the increasing amount of space between himself and the other two drifters, prompting Mearas to lower his speed a tad and allow them to catch up. Slightly amused by the way Jet had his arms around Virginia's waist and leaning into her back, he remembered the warning Clive had given him the other day and decided to remain quiet over it, not wanting another assault by Jet's boomerang anytime soon. The darkness deepened as true night spread across the midland area of Filgaia, and they used the location of the stars to find north, using that information and heading south, moving off to their own destinations and journey.
"We'll split ways at the Fallen Sanctuary," Virginia advised to the others, watching the land around her rush by, "Gallows, you take the path to the Zenom mountains, and Jet and I will go southeast and see if Florina can lend us a hand. Try and be back at Baskar as soon as possible, everyone's counting on us, so don't ever give up." She watched Gallows nod and grin, picking up his pace and galloping ahead.
"You'd hafta give me a brainwashing and lock me up in a crate at the bottom of the sand ocean to stop me!" The big Baskar declared with enthusiasm, pounding a fist against his chest. "I'll be back with the Arnica, just you wait! But good luck with your search as well, you two."
They passed a smartly chiselled ledge of rocks that forced them to race swiftly around it, seeing in the very murky distance the outline of a huge crumbling temple nestled by the mountains, the intensely ancient Fallen Sanctuary, home of the powers that sustained the world. They had almost arrived. Jet felt awkward not being in control and letting a girl navigate his ride, but somehow glad of the fact that he could sit so close to Virginia without being slapped. Going a slight red, he felt like slapping himself, realizing that he was spending far too much time with Gallows and his perversions were beginning to rub off on his own brain. If Clive were here, he would have said that Jet was growing up.
"Don't screw up, and we'll try the same, okay?" Jet said bluntly to Gallows, his violet eyes oddly standing out in the dark. Their horse's gallop slowly became a steady canter as the temple gradually came closer, the faint throb of the ark scepter alerting them to the holy presence of the Guardians. It seemed much more powerful than normal, but none of the drifters had the time to stop and ponder why. The Baskar priest dismounted outside the entrance and let his horse loose to graze on the moderately healthy grass, looking up at the remaining drifters still mounted and prepared to leave.
"See ya later." He said cheerfully, removing his tools and supplies from the saddlebag slung on Mearas's side, packing them into one large satchel and hoisting it onto his own broad back with a carefree grin. But, all that grin did was hide the uncertainty Gallows was feeling on the inside, not quite sure if he could complete his task or not. Virginia paused in her departure, looking at him with mixed feelings. Gallows sighed and pointed east, trying to bolster her spirits. "Go on, go. I'll be right, you'll see. I'll bring back an entire sack full of Arnica, just so I can see Granny's eyes pop outta her head!"
Virginia giggled. "All right, all right," She smiled, "I'm going. See you tomorrow, Gallows." And with that, she spurred Stybba to head east, the retreating form of the white mare easy to spot within the shadows. Gallows waited until he could see no more of them except for a small dot in the distance, before cracking his knuckles and making a quick prayer for continuing good luck, knowing that he was going to sorely need it.
Because Arnica was one of the rarest plants in the entire world.
xxx
With an unhappy whimper and sigh, Gallows discovered that the small beaten path he had no choice but to take seemed to be creeping upward into the mountain with an almost vertical tilt, making the back of his legs ache badly and scream out for a short break. Yet bravely, Gallows continued on with strength of mind and sheer willpower, whining all the way to himself like a baby. Every so often he stopped and checked the small plants surrounding the track in the hopes of locating the Arnica herb, but all he found were worthless weeds and the occasional outcropping of an antidote plant. It seemed to be a futile search.
Maybe it would have been easier if daylight was present to illuminate the mountainside, foraging in the dark made it difficult to even see what he was looking for, let alone finding it. He should have brought a lit torch with him, it would've made things a lot less complicated. His mediums didn't posses the power of illumination so he relied on his average eyesight to aid him on his way, picking up a gnarled branch and using it as a walking stick to take some of the strain off his legs. How damn steep did they want this path anyway?
A rock rolled under his foot and he stumbled, leaning onto his walking stick for support. Somehow, he felt like an old man. Gallows looked up at the certain elevation he had to reach in order to find the best place for herbs, still many, many vertical yards up. The Zenom mountains were structured as a series of plateaus set upon a precipitous cliff-side, where it would be all too easy to slip and fall. This path was the only way to climb the mountain, created over a century ago by the Baskar priesthood. Gallows felt like he was walking through his destiny just being in that place, it was that, or feel like his ancestors had built the road in just that way so they could laugh at him from their graves.
Conjuring up in his mind the image of the herb in question, Gallows thankfully knew exactly what it looked like from his classes in herb lore, one of the few things he actually bothered to pay attention to in his youth. It was leafy and coloured a dark green, similar to a holy root, but it's flowers were a beautiful midnight blue, sometimes speckled with white. It was a contrast to the current flowering plants in the area, and he guessed he could find it pretty quickly if he knew where to look. Of course, the darkness would hide the blue colouring, but maybe he could get lucky enough and spot one.
As soon as he had this thought, Gallows tripped over and landed flat on his face, walking stick sailing out of his grip. Swearing something particularly foul in the Baskar tongue, he pushed himself back up and checked his body over for injuries, his knees slightly scraped from the fall. What had tripped him over? The path was straight and without obstruction, but his foot had accidentally gotten hooked over something lying across the road…
That something screeched, and Gallows immediately felt very cold on the inside.
The inner coldness was accompanied by a torrent of water suddenly drenching him from head to toe, the Eel Volk that had previously been lying in contented sleep in the middle of the road waking up in a horrendous fury, firing a hydro launcher blast at the little human who had disturbed his slumber. Gallows, the bearer of the water rune, didn't feel any pain at all from the blast, but was shocked from the attack himself, turning around to see his new enemy. Shaking his hands and wringing the water out of his hair, he raised an eyebrow at the monster and almost laughed.
He could tell it was a water elemental from the very beginning, a bipedal lizard resembling a giant salamander, curious twin feelers extending from the front of it's head and a long stretch of membrane running down the entire back of it's body. It looked badly pissed off as it lowered it's front legs to the ground and made an almost feline hissing noise at him, showing needle-like teeth to the Baskar as a threat. Gallows wrung more water out of his clothes and casually held up his shotgun ARM, smirking. "I dun' have time for you. Get lost."
He felt a twinge of doubt as the feelers on the Eel Volk's head began to twitch and wave about erratically, slight sparks dropping down and hitting the dried grass. It's skin was slick with moisture and Gallows felt the gross sliminess of it as the creature slammed straight into him, knocking him to the ground with the full bulk of it's body. Dirt and grass stuck to Gallows's side as he rolled a little bit down the steep hill, grabbing at a deeply rooted antidote plant to break the motion of the roll and steady himself, getting back up to his feet again. Coyote lay a small space away, resting at the foot of the water elemental and totally useless to Gallows now as a weapon, he would have to find a new way to attack. Being an adept Arcana user, he came up with one surprisingly fast.
"Magnarize!"
A small light sparkled in the darkness, feeding off Gallows's inherent strength and increasing in size and power at a spectacular rate, energy gaining solid mass and condensing into a tough substance, even stronger than diamonds. It hovered silently in the airspace above Gallows's head for a fleeting moment, the Baskar taking the time to aim properly and estimate the damage, before releasing the glowing shard of light straight at the beast, piercing it's side like a primitive arrow through the heart.
The Eel Volk screamed in blinding pain as the wound with a magically generated crystal embedded deeply into the flesh began to ooze reptilian blood, a disgusting green colour with flecks of torn-off skin floating in the mixture. However, the wound was not fatal and it was still in fighting condition, pushed over the edge by the stinging blow. Gallows overestimated the damage his spell had brought and made a break for his weapon, running closer to the monster and ignoring the steep rise of the mountainside and the burning in his legs. His hand swiped the ARM lying upon the ground with precision but did not count on being roughly grabbed by the creature, having one last trick up it's monster sleeves. It's feelers sparked one more time, and this could only suggest one thing. Electricity.
I'm drenched in water, and water conducts electricity… Oh shit… The Baskar realized at the very last minute, Goddamn fucking shit!
No less than fifty thousand volts of pure electricity were slammed straight through Gallows's nervous system, the scream the poor man made echoing easily through the night air and the mountainous region, he twitched like crazy and felt as if his brain would explode, screaming and screaming and wishing it would end. His agony was far too great for him to even hear the sudden shout behind him, or feel the monster pull away, just the torture that spread through him like liquid mercury, white hot fire.
A gunshot rang out in the night, somebody caught him in mid fall, and then there was darkness.
xxx
Gallows woke up to the sound of crackling wood nearby, and a moist cool washcloth folded neatly across his forehead to banish his slight fever, wondering where the hell he was. He felt grass under his fingers and the sting of an ant's bite somewhere near his left elbow, but he could not see the sky, it was hidden from his view by the washcloth that overlapped his eyes. The Baskar groaned, his nerves still frayed by the electric strike, and sat up, wringing the remaining moisture out of the fabric with his hands. It was still dark, in the midst of the night, so the young priest could only estimate that his repose had been short at the most. The land around him was segmented into platforms wedged into the cliff-side, coated in rare short clipped green grass, miniature plateaus upon the Zenom mountains. Somebody had carried him up to exactly where he wanted to go.
So, he was here. Gallows realised that a thin green blanket had been spread over his legs and he pushed it away, wondering where it had come from. The left side of his body was warmer than the right and he soon discovered the reason for that, a small campfire burning merrily only a few feet away. It was prodded rhythmically with a small and slightly bent iron poker, the hand that bore it pale in the flickering firelight. Gallows was not alone in the area. Mindful of his safety, he tried to jump up into a defensive stance, facing the stranger, but his injured nerves got tangled up in the process and he toppled over audibly, landing on his side, elbow digging into the grassy ground. Gallows groaned again, but for a totally different reason, embarrassed that he had royally screwed-up his proud image.
The Baskar started to hear laughter, and it was in a light tenor tone, masculine, but not unpleasant at all. It sounded jovial and affable, like the voice of a close friend. Gallows stared at the person sitting by the fire, trying to see through the shadows to the identity of the stranger sitting there. He was wearing a deep forest green jacket and a hat of a similar hue, two small feathers sticking out of the side. Blonde and smiling in a friendly way, it only took Gallows a few minutes to recognise who the man really was, breaking out into a grin. "Roykman!" The Baskar exclaimed while rubbing his ant-bitten elbow, "Good ta see you again!"
The item merchant imitated Gallows's grin in a more mild fashion, slowly removing his large brown backpack stuffed with his wares and setting it down nearby, patting it once to make sure it was sturdily seated and wouldn't fall over. Tufts of foraged herbs poked out of the top of the bag, fixed shut with a small metal buckle and smelling of a mixture of many different cures. It looked like the man must have spent the entire day in the mountains gathering herbs for sale, or something like that. Roykman poked the fire again softly and addressed Gallows with a voice that seemed much softer than his usual tone, calmer and meeker, barely above a hushed whisper. "It is good to see you too, Gallows." He replied, looking sullenly into the burning fire, "I expected to find you here, you know, but not lying unconscious and about to be eaten by a fiend. Don't worry, I scared it away."
"Huh?" Gallows grunted at the nearly cryptic remark, scratching his head and noticing that the static electricity from the monster attack had frizzed his hair out even more than ever. He looked like some tragic kind of poodle. Sighing and holding his hand out in front of his face, it shook slightly from the electric damage and was wobbly, it didn't look like he'd be shooting straight anytime soon. He at last caught the more important part of the merchant's statement and blinked sleepily, more than a little confused. "You knew I'd be here? How?" He asked, perplexed.
Roykman shrugged for a reply, his words not really answering Gallows's question. "It doesn't matter how I knew," He informed Gallows in his oddly disturbing soft voice, the paleness of his face making him look slightly pallid in the shadow, "What was important was that I could help you, and I did." He leant back and rested his warmed iron poker across his legs, folding his hands in his lap. A tiny bend in the black shaft marred it's forged image and Roykman held the length between his thumb and middle finger, as if it held some kind of significance for him. He spoke again. "I can still help you. That is the sole purpose why I am here." Patting his full supply bag again, he awaited Gallows's reaction with a neutral expression on his face.
Feeling much more stable than before, Gallows was able to understand Roykman's words a little better, even if he couldn't hear them very well. "I'm lookin' for a herb that grows here in the mountains. You seen it? It's called Arnica an'-" Gallows's sentence slowly came to a halt as he realized the one he was speaking to was no longer there, he had suddenly vanished the second the Baskar had taken his eyes off him. His confusion deepening for a few uncertain moments, Gallows nearly jumped as he felt a hand being placed on his shoulder, Roykman was now standing behind him even though Gallows had heard no steps being taken. It was incredibly unnerving.
The merchant's hand felt cold and clammy, with Gallows's slightly honed extra sensory perception given to him by his priesthood training, it only increased the feeling of foreboding he was picking up from the seemingly crestfallen man. Despite being outside, Gallows felt like he was sitting on the grave of a good friend. Roykman smiled again, nodding. "Yes I have," He said ambiguously, "It's the reason I came up here, besides helping you. You will need all the help you can get. There's barely any Arnica left in the mountains after the arrival of such a dry autumn season, but I found some, and you're more than welcome to it, Gallows." He moved forward and went past the fire to his bag of supplies, undoing the buckle and sifting around inside, searching through all his medicinal cures for the one that the Baskar needed, humming a sad tune that sounded altogether too much like a dirge.
"Thanks." He replied appreciatively to Roykman, shakily getting to his feet and this time not falling over. "You're a real lifesaver, man. Thanks." Gallows walked up to Roykman as he searched, curiously noting that the merchant had his eyes calmly shut as he did so, identifying the different herbs by touch and not sight. It was dark and hard to see, but Gallows still thought of it as kind of curious.
He raised his hands instinctively as something dark green and leafy was casually thrown to him, damp from exposure to the dew-covered ground, and smelling like it had only been recently picked. The pale roots of the plant dangled limply between his fingers, picked just precisely so that the plant could still be transplanted if anybody ever wanted to. It dawned on Gallows that Roykman must know more about herb cultivation than the Baskar had originally given him credit for, thanking the Guardians for the unexpected source of help. Turning around and picking up the dampened washcloth he had discarded on the grassy ground, he folded the herb up inside, hoping that the moisture would prolong the short life span of the rare plant. He had to get this thing back to Halle right away.
Rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little embarrassed, Gallows admitted something painfully true. "Uh, I don't really have any money on me right now," He sweatdropped, "I kinda left my wallet back at Baskar, so I- um…"
"Don't worry about paying me," Roykman reassured him, his voice so quiet it was almost impossible to hear, "I don't need money anymore, anyway." He stood up again and swung the heavy pack onto his pack, bending down slightly to brush the small traces of dirt off his knees. It looked like he was getting ready to leave, and as soon as Gallows thought this, the fire immediately went out. It didn't burn down to embers and exhaust itself, the wood just suddenly wasn't lit anymore, as if it had never been burning in the first place. Roykman straightened his green hat and worked the kinks out of his neck, shaking the tension out of his hands. "If you really want to repay me, use that item to it's utmost ability. Go and save your sick friend."
Gallows blinked. He didn't think he had mentioned Clive at all during his conversation with the merchant, so how did Roykman know about that? Dismissing the flustering thought as simple paranoia, he nodded, grinning. "Sure will! Thanks again for the help, buddy!" He gave Roykman a thumbs-up sign but became confused again as the man had disappeared for the second time, appearing sharply to the right of Gallows's vision, at the edge of the sheer cliff-side with his arms folded behind his head, looking up at the stars. He seemed close to them, but very far away, all at the same time.
"Actually," He began, Gallows having to strain his ears just to hear his voice that seemed to get softer after each word was spoken, "There is one last thing you can do for me, if you really want to." Roykman scuffed one foot on the grass, noticing how stiff and dried out the foliage was, it was somehow saddening. Turning back to Gallows, he looked more serious than the merchant had ever been before. "When you see your friend again, please deliver this message to him from me. Tell him that he shouldn't feel guilty and it wasn't his fault, if he continues to blame himself for the past, he will never atone and find repentance." The man brightened slightly, smiling. "Can you tell him that for me?"
"Erm… Okay. I will." Agreed Gallows after a second of thought, not really understanding the message himself. Knowing that he should get back to the Baskar Colony as soon has humanly possible, he straightened out his clothes, tried to smooth down his frizzed hair, and checked to see if he was still equipped with his favoured Coyote ARM, turning to leave. There was a slightly beaten path past the ledge he was standing on and it trailed down the mountainside to the flatlands below, Gallows estimated that he could summon his horse from there and head back to the village before sunrise if he hurried. It was a good plan, and he started to leave.
"You know," Roykman continued, for the first time in their conversation he actually rose the volume of his voice so Gallows could hear from a distance, though the merchant had gone back to looking at the stars. "I have always said that if anything should ever happen to me somewhere in this wide, wide world," He chuckled a bit before continuing, "That perhaps my soul will wander the wasteland, peddling my wares to those who need it, as a wandering ghost." The man shrugged, "I know it sounds romantic, but I've always liked the idea. Goodbye, my friend. Good luck to you and your comrades. Farewell."
Gallows heard something heavy hit the ground, and turned around to see what it was. Roykman's iron poker lay snugly in the grass, it's owner nowhere to be found, and the Baskar somehow sensed that he would never be found again. Gallows felt a shiver, pulling the edges of his small jacket around to cover his bare chest. The only person left in the mountains, he found himself all alone.