A/N- Yeah I know I posted really soon after my last posting. Well I just feel like I want to be in a writing mood. And I want to thank Eris for reviewing! Keep on reviewing peeps and I'll keep on writing!
Chapter 4: A Newcomer Bringing Help
I was having difficulty thinking of what to do next in the panic of the situation. Mogget was obviously something different than anything I've ever known. I noticed that his nails were glistening, hard, white, and claw-like.
The necromancers were charging up for another blow as the Dead Hands were making steady progress to cross over the Ratterlin. The Shadow Hands formed a protective shield around the necromancers against the attacks of the Clayr.
"There seems to be another form heading towards us. This one seems to have the Charter mark on its forehead," announced Mogget.
I could barely make out a lone tiny figure heading our direction. It came at a steady run while flashing a sword that was giving off blue streaks of light at the Dead Hands.
Then there was a light, cheery bell sound that seemed to make me want to do a jig right there. My feet seemed to move of its own accord. I could see that it was affecting the others around me as well. Mogget seemed to be least affected of us all as he clenched his jaw to stop the quivers of his calves. On the other hand, Damiel was breaking out in a jig that should be meant for happier situations than this one.
The Dead Hands seemed to have all lost the ability to move normally as I felt their spirits leave their unnatural bodies. The necromancers were having a hard time controlling themselves as the cart-wheeled off in crazy circles and did absurd dances across the hills heading away from us.
Their progress seemed to be bounded by another bell sound that was more commanding. The necromancers were quickly forced to leave in ridiculous conditions and positions.
By this time I could see the face of the person who was the cause of all this. He was wearing a heavy, worn overcoat. I could see clearly that he had skin the color of alabaster and black hair. He had dark brown eyes that had seen too much for his age but rather kind.
"Greetings my good friends, I am glad I could be of service to the Clayr in a time of great need and turmoil. My name is Marciel and let me assist you in any way possible."
The head Clayrs were amazingly all alive at the moment though not without scratches and a few burn marks. The most authoritative one said, "We saw a possibility of help and here you are. Thank for your concern, but the main one is the safety of our glacier. We would appreciate it if you could help us ensure our safety. In return you can stay here with room and food for the length of time. Again we wish you the best and our thanks for saving us all."
He bowed graciously to the Clayrs and murmured his pleasures to be here at the famed glacier. Then there was much work in plans to repair the door, enhancing security levels, aide for the injured, and of course clean-up duty of the mess and destruction. Many Clayrs were teary-eyed and some were openly sobbing at their deceased one's side.
Damiel's lips were held together tightly as he was instructed by Rosaline to carry the injured to the health care rooms with beds and better supplies. Damiel came over and gave me a tight hug and I buried my face in his shoulder while holding back silent tears.
"I care for you very much Kalla and I'm so glad that you are alright. I don't know what I would have done if they had injured you."
I gave a small smile, "Probably plot my revenge I hope."
His lips curved up as he hugged me again and then left for the weary task of caring off the injured that couldn't walk.
I saw that Mogget seemed to be in an intent conversation with the newcomer. I decided to walk over to see what was they was talking about.
"So I see that you are quiet skilled with those bells of yours," said Mogget while slowing lowering his now normal eyes to look at the bells strung across the chest of Marciel.
"Yes, my great-grandfather taught me what I knew and gave me these bells before he died two years ago," replied Marciel.
Marciel seemed about only a few years older than me if any. Now that I had a better chance to look at him, I thought he looked somehow familiar. Like a dream that you can't quite remember well enough.
"So…….where are you from?" drawled Mogget.
"In the small cottage by the Red Lake far south of our current locations," answered Marciel.
"Yes, yes, no need to explain it all out with detail. I am perfectly aware of that little spot in the vast Old Kingdom," smirked Mogget.
Marciel was slowly growing embarrassed under the abundance of questions by Mogget. He then excused himself to volunteer for carrying away the dead Clayr. However seeing that they were all cleaned away to be buried, Marciel decided to go dispose of the piles of decaying bodies by the Ratterlin. He started to burn away groups of bodies with his Charter spells of cleansing.
"Quite an interesting turnout of event isn't it," smiled Mogget knowingly at me.
I looked at him blankly as I was still reeling from the whole event. Mogget did not seem perturbed by anything that had just taken place at all. In fact he seemed invigorated at such a turn of events. It was like he was on a hunt and watching the situation neutrally before making a move.
I then remembered his unusual physical changes during the battle. I asked carefully, "So Mogget do you mind me asking why you looked different when we back then?"
"Why yes I do but I'll tell you anyways," answered Mogget.
"I'm something special with certain magic aspects to me other than my charming looks," smiled Mogget impishly.
I blushed slightly as I watched him grin even wider at the color in my pale cheeks. Gosh darn the pale skin, why couldn't I be tan and less easily embarrassed by comments? Why couldn't I be more like one of the Clayrs and their easy ways with each other and their opposite gender? The only males I have in contact with was Damiel and the other male Clayrs who were rare and nowhere near my age.
"By the way Kalla, I do believe our new friend Marciel looks quite like you. And he also is quite strong of the Bloodline. Hmmm who would've thought, two little bundles of mystery unraveling in my view. Something to liven up my existence I suppose," sighed Mogget sarcastically.
Could this Marciel be related to me? Could I even be part of the Bloodlines or was Mogget just slowly twirling my mind around his twisted humor while watching me squirm and idiotically believing in his words? I shook these ridiculously troubling thoughts off.