They were coming.
The Thirteen were gathering for the first time in close to ten years.
Boudica watched the horses crossing the moor, all twelve of them in total. Merric had already arrived with Mairi. All the queen had to do was await for the remaining dozen to come riding in. And, they did. No Iceni could resist the message of their empress, answering the call to arms to protect their own people against the foreigners. They approached slowly, each holding their mounts at the top of the rolling hills, looking down the grassy plain to Dun Aengus.
The queen knew this well procedure far too well. She gazed out as each of the twelve, approaching riders held up their standards, wavering flags in bold, bright colors. Boudica waited for all the colors and symbols to be presented, representing each, individual of the Thirteen. Boudica raised her own colors, the banner of the Iceni, bearing her galloping white horse.
Still, the Warriors would not come down off their perches high atop the hills.
Boudica glanced to Merric. "You have to present yourself, brother."
He held up his own banner, waving the blue, tattered cloth over his head. The Warriors nodded, starting slowly down and off the hills, riding down to Dun Aengus. They meandered down towards the city, the seat of what had once been the proud, Iceni empire, the home of kings and queens of centuries.
"Let's greet our guests."
xxxx
The fever had broken sometime in the night.
Robin couldn't tell when. She had fallen asleep sometime during the night, holding Amon's hand in hers, as if trying to hold him in that world of the living. He had drifted away in the late evening, growing distant and delirious. Amon's fevered ramblings and mutterings had almost driven Robin to madness. And, yet, the teenager stayed at his side, listening to every utterance, for however crazy they sounded.
It was when Amon spoke of the Thirteen that the girl truly felt sick, her stomach wrenching along with her heart.
"They are waves," Amon had murmured. "The Thirteen."
Nycole, then, merely raised an arched eyebrow, curious at the statement. "Waves?"
"The ocean…"
The empath just shrugged it off.
After that, Amon grew silent. Robin wondered time after time if he were passing between life and death, walking the lonely trail of Purgatory its self. Robin prayed to God, the Christian God, despite this heathen and pagan world she had fallen into.
"Yea though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil…" Robin let out a sigh. "I can't seem to recall the rest of it."
"Never shall innocent blood be shed, yet the blood of the wicked shall flow like a river. The Three shall spread their blackened wings and be the vengeful striking hammer of God." Nycole spoke up. "And shepherds we shall be. For thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended from thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry thy command. We shall flow of a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nominee patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti."
Robin blinked. "What was that?"
"Family prayer," the empath replied. "Probably the only real prayer I know, thanks to Boondock Saints." Nycole gave a shrug. "I don't know. It always gave me strength…" she snickered. "And a smartass little Irish brogue."
They sat over Amon for hours.
Finally, in the morning, his eyelids fluttered open. The fever had broken, beginning the slow decent to normal. He was getting better, healing. They could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
Nycole glanced to him, a smile on her face. "Y'dead yet?"
"No."
The empath giggled. "Good, because you were taking too long to figure out one way or the other."
xxxx
The Thirteen amassed, a silent lot. Boudica wouldn't have expected any less of them. These were battle-hardened warriors, not the sort of jovial bunch that would sit and chat about the weather or crops. No, these were a quiet bunch, as if constantly ready for a fight, ever stealthy. In any other group of people, the queen would have worried at their silence; instead, she invited the Thirteen in warmly.
These were her warriors, her chosen. They were marked by the gods themselves, granted the powers of both great forces of nature, and the serenity to know when to use them. They had the constitution and the determination to stay secret and safe, remaining in the shadows, despite the looming threat to their people, to the Iceni. And for that, Boudica remained ever thankful. For those long years that the orders stood, the Thirteen kept in hiding, and kept their gifts, their blessings, hidden from the invaders.
Cernunnos, god of the universe, keeper of life and death, had given these Thirteen such strange duel blessings and curses, Merric included. Some days, Boudica counted the stars in thanks for the advantage the gods had bestowed upon the Iceni in the form of the Warriors. Other days, Boudica cursed the power that had been loosed upon the earth.
Boudica had a great feast prepared in their honor. Musicians played, fresh meat roasted, and fires blazed as people danced. However, the Thirteen were not to be enticed. Not even Merric. He sat by his twin sister's side, looking over the festive Iceni, unmoved by all the merriment Boudica tried to share. The queen could see the longing in Mairi's eyes, the urge to dance, but the girl would not leave her brother's side. The Thirteen remained to the outskirts of the festivity, unsure of how exactly to respond while maintaining their distance, keeping neutrality.
The Thirteen were never intended to fight on the side of the Iceni. Boudica knew this well. They were to remain as neutral as the sun, the moon, and the stars themselves. Always there, always looking over man, but never favoring one over the other.
Yet, they could not.
Boudica knew this well and used this to her advantage. The Thirteen felt at home in Dun Aengus. They felt at ease under the command of the queen. More than that. They felt the Iceni to be family. In Merric's case, they were family. No honorable man could abandon his own people, his own flesh and blood. Only those traitorous bastards, the Paretori, could do such a thing.
Finally, when the noise and chaos settled down, Boudica addressed the Thirteen, calling them to her table. "Friends and kin, come forth."
They took places at the table, standing at their chairs for a moment. Boudica and Mairi watched with piqued interest as the Warriors waited. There was an air of pomp and circumstance to these affairs, as the remaining party-goers and attendants were shooed from the hall. Then, all of the Thirteen, save Merric, stretched their backs, allowing their wings to sprout from their backs. Brown, grey, and soft crème wings. There were those that matched eagles, and those that seemed more delicate, like doves.
Merric sat swiftly, plopping down in his chair before the others could, letting out a heavy breath of annoyance. The others sat. Only Boudica remained standing, ready to address her Warriors.
"I have gathered you here for a reason."
One of the Warriors piped up from across the table. "I do nay suppose it was for fine meade and hot food?"
There were uneasy laughs.
"No. There is a traitor among us."
xxxx
It took another day or two for Amon to get back on his feet. Slowly at first. Nycole supervised as Sakaki helped the former hunter, his former partner get back on his feet. He seemed different, changed by the experience, or, perhaps, just disheartened by his slow progress.
On the fifth day, Brett and the others returned home from the market to find Amon gone. It took him a few moments to figure it out, but, by then, the fire elemental didn't care. He ambled down to the local pub, craving a good Killians, or a Guiness on the tap. To Hell be damned with Amon if he foolishly killed himself by pushing too hard, too soon. That wasn't Brett's fault, nor would it ever be.
And, so, at around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, Brett stuffed his hands into his pockets, found a ten-punt note. The paper currency crinkled between his fingers as the elemental stared down the man on the bill. It was true, they should have been saving the punts. They were poor, dirt poor. Everything that band of witches had, they left in Japan, in Kristo's house and home. All their money had been left there during the flight, or was locked into Nocturne of Kabukichu. They should have been saving, pinching pennies… But this bill, these ten punts, they were Brett's, and Brett needed a good beer.
The pub its self surprised Brett. It wasn't as he would expect it to be. There weren't Irish flags and shamrocks scattered about. Nor were there Manchester United propaganda strewn everywhere. Instead, the place felt warm and homey. Brett glanced over the bar to the painted name on the mirror. O'Doole's. It was entirely different from what the elemental would expect from a pub with such a name.
It only mildly surprised Brett when he saw the darkly clad man seated at the bar. The younger man tried to ignore him as he pulled up a stool.
Brett paid him no attention. Nothing was going to ruin this Guinness of his. The fire elemental had just spent the entire day with Kristo, sorting through those papers he and Robin had secured from Solomon. They had gotten in touch with Michael, scanning all of the papers so that the hacker could sort through them are try to find Kathain's location. The work was long and hard, but it was worth it. Anything to get Kathain back, to keep her dark gifts from aiding Zaizen anymore than was necessary. And, yet, thus fare, nothing had been turned up. Brett was growing more and more frustrated, and more and more depressed.
It seemed like they would never find Kathain, Not ever.
"Took you long enough to find me."
Brett sighed, and gestured for the bartender to come over. "Wasn't looking."
"Didn't think you were."
Amon waited, pausing for a moment as Brett ordered a pint of Guinness and paid with the antiquated punts. Most of Europe had already switched over to the Euro, but the group somehow converted their cash to punts. Easier to use in the more out of reach locales, the better places to hide. Brett took a sip, savoring the taste of the fresh Guinness.
"Nycole and Robin have Sakaki and Geoff hunting around town for you."
Amon trailed his fingers around the edge of his glass. "Figured as much."
"You know, you have her really worried."
The former hunter barely regarded the statement. "I figured Nycole would be worried."
"Not Nycole. Robin," Brett answered before taking another swig of his beer. "She's been worried about you since before we left Japan."
Amon shrugged, giving a slight wince as his aching muscles and joints were forced to work. "Robin can handle herself." The man looked away. "Robin and the rest of you, you can take care of yourselves."
"You're so full of shit, Amon."
The older male blinked. "What?"
Brett hardly looked up from his Guinness. "You heard me. You… Are… Full… of… Shit." The fire elemental sipped at his beer, nursing the wondrous brew his last ten punts bought him. "You're one of the Thirteen. You need to stop thinking like that. You're not a lone wolf anymore."
Brett stared deeply into the dark liquid that was his drink as Amon dared ask the question that had been burning in his mind. "You… are you one of the Thirteen?"
"Yes," the elemental conceded.
"And Geoff?" Amon inquired.
Again, Brett nodded. "Yup. So's Raven, Bear, and Kristo."
"What about Kathain, Nycole, and Sakaki?"
"Nycole and Kathain are something entirely different but just as dangerous as the Warriors," Brett explained matter-of-factly. "And Sakaki? He just fell into all this by accident. He's not one of the Thirteen."
Amon lingered on the thoughts, on what gloom that statement held. "I've been having dreams. About Nycole's story."
"I'm not surprised," Brett stated flatly.
"Are they memories?" Amon asked, suddenly sounding fearful and childlike, full of hesitation and fear. "They're too detailed, too real to be dreams. I mean, can I be remembering someone else's life?"
The elemental shrugged. "Could be."
They sat in silence for a moment, each drinking their liquor.
Then, Amon spoke again. "What in the Hell are we?"
"I don't know."
xxxx
We be's getting closer to finding out the secrets of the Thirteen… and why in the hell I like cryptic shit.
