Chrono Cross Second Journey
Fan Novelization
Book 2
6 A Mariner's Nightmare
ike a burdened snail that crept over sands of a vast plain, the wooden boat crept laboriously over waves of the open sea. The waters remained still, the lackluster currents pushed little. The air had turned stale, lingered over the calm, unperturbed seas. It smelt as if the air over the oceans had turned rotten like milk had turned sour. It felt as if each pocket of air remained where it had been for half the decade. This day was another mere day to add to the seemingly endless count.
While Serge rowed the boat towards their destination, Glenn commanded the directions towards Mount Pyre. Regular refreshers in naval expertise during his training in the dragoons served him well this moment. He flipped the manual in his mind and applied the standard protocols he had been duly taught. With a compass in a hand, a crumpled map of El Nido on his legs, he traced their route towards their destination.
When the going was slow, he explored the routes over the seas and walked the corners of El Nido with his finger. But he neglected his legs and gave them no role to take part during the imaginary travel. They soon began to ache from inaction, as if in complain and in protest. He would need a thorough stretch, but he suppressed the desire to fling them both out indecorously, just as he suppressed that to stand and risk tipping their clumsy tub over. His clenched and freed his toes continuously in the shelter of his boots, away from all eyes, but he found it of little help to drive away the dreaded discomfort that sat on the rest of his legs. He thought it might be easier to pour his self into meditation, which would thus free from his mind the mental asphyxiation that was beginning to rob him of his breath. So he dreamt of a walk amongst the white of clouds. But as he did his finger wondered in circles around the map until it stopped near an uncharted area in the east, where lay a question mark.
"What does this question mark represent?" asked Kid.
This instant, his dream melted into the thick of reality, the ache returned.
"The Sea of Eden," replied Glenn with a soft sigh, who now realized Kid had been regarding with interest his imaginary tour.
"That's the Sea of Eden? Heard of it. It is said no one steps into it."
"It is even said that no one steps out of it," added Glenn grimly. "Mountains and poisonous corals surround the area. Even if one were lucky enough to enter, one would have to be as lucky to leave."
"I know I wouldn't want to be there," Leena remarked with a look of refusal.
"But is that not where Lynx said the Frozen Flame lies?" Serge said.
"He might be trying to mislead us," said Kid. "Then again, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's right. Expect me there when all this is over," declared Kid with a slap on her chest, a smirk from ear to ear.
"There can be no way," said Glenn with an intention to clarify, "for if there was--"
"A Radical Dreamer never says 'no' to a 'no entry'. Besides, the 'no entry' can only be there when there is one in the first place."
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you ever wondered why the Sea of Eden is known to everyone as a place no one enters, when no one has entered and left to tell the tale? If it is known that way to you, doesn't it make more sense that someone knew something about the Sea of Eden, and likely must have been there before?"
For a moment, three of the companions stared at each other, and then stared blankly at Kid. All looked as if they just heard a strange language, and now tried to flip through pages of their minds and look up the meaning of the words she spoke. All were lost, dazed and even confused, as if they failed to understand the simplicity of her straightforward deduction. It was one that seemed to have eluded all three native El Nidons, even if they lived on their home's soil for the last two decades.
If Glenn were a common man, he could have lived out his life with little care if there were or not an entrance into the Sea of Eden. He would be concerned with eking out a living in these trying times than be contemplating a trip into a dreaded place where no man with a sound mind had thought of braving. He would not even be on this boat to pursue Lynx and stop General Viper this day. But it surfaced as a wonder to Glenn that he, a military soldier from the Acacia Dragoons, who had been aggressively trained in wartime terrain strategy and forced to map the every inch of El Nido had wondered little beyond the fact that the Sea of Eden was for no man to enter. Back to his training days he traced and tried to recollect what he had been taught, but the best of his memories returned to him an empty sack. It became clear, frighteningly clear, that no soul seemed to have spoken much of the Sea of Eden, much less knew anything of it and within.
There is no entry, there thus exists an entrance. This new meaning that had just surfaced cast doubt upon an old preconception, like light cast upon beautiful gems and revealed its flaws and blemishes. Credit must be given to the mainlander who had only stepped foot on El Nido less than a week before, but who must have seen more to that mysterious place than an El Nidon had.
Kid snorted. "The way you blokes look, can't say I'm surprised."
"Are you saying Lynx knows how to get in?" asked Serge.
"I'm saying nothing. It is only as true as the Frozen Flame stashed away in the Sea of Eden. By the way, Serge, does the Sea of Eden in your world have an entrance? Perhaps we can find a way in there."
"Perhaps you can find a way in. For your Frozen Flame, am I not right?"
"Ah sheeze, only you know me so well."
Serge blushed.
"Come on, is there?" Kid pressed.
"What do you think?" Serge snapped. "Even if there were, you aren't going there."
"Stop! Stop! Everyone," said Leena, as she patted on Serge's shoulder and pointed into the distance. "Look at that. Is that...?"
Clouding the distance was a thick of gray, rising taller than the heavens, burrowing deeper than the seas. It seemed like the distant mist of rain that fell during a storm, only it was not. Rather, it looked as if that itself were the cloud that had reached down from the skies and had amassed beneath it. Its monolithic frame shied the morning sun and its edges brilliantly glazed, like a long arch of crooked vines burning up in flames in the sky. Together with the reflection from the sea, two burning arches seemed to form the frame of some entrance grand; a golden gate meant to turn ignorance into curiosity, to invite the uninvited, and to tempt those who already sought to enter. But settled on the calm seas beneath the pastel of the afternoon blue, even the fool must know that this fog was a shadow in which lay only gloom.
"What in the blazes is that?" Kid mumbled as she shaded her eyes and gaze into the distance, as if she tried to look through it.
"That's what Sir Radius was talking about, wasn't he?" mumbled Leena with a quiver in her voice.
Having appeared mysteriously less than a decade ago, the fog had mysteriously held fast in the same area, never shifting an inch. It shielded from eyes the entrance into Mount Pyre, for it edged on the shores of the fiery volcano and stretched several miles out west into the deep ocean. Only the southern cliffs of gray and the red canopy of the Ba Trees over the Hydra Marshes of the central continent stood out prominently beside the fog.
A nightmare the rumormongers touted as, a terrible bode to any mariner, a danger to any man. All who have ventured within returned only with details of ill and sleepless evil within. They spoke of the cold amidst the gray as cold from invisible hands that pricked the flesh and drained color from beneath. They spoke of having found themselves wander for days in circles, of having seen the needles of compasses spin errantly, and of having witnessed spirits of the dead haunt the souls of the living. Many of those never dared to sail within a second time. And after ten years since its mass, this unsightly work of nature, though harmless, had proven itself to be a menace to those on the seas.
The dragoons had their fair share of experiences within and returned to paint terrible tales of spirits of extinct dragonians and spirits that dressed queer. Even the dead of monstrous beasts, lions, hyenas, Beachbums and those never before seen in this world had been seen, and some even put on paper by those skilled to turn memories into drawings--men with the torso of a human, legs of a horse; creatures with ugly faces and sharp fangs; bears with three pairs of arms, and more of the wildest imagined only by fairy tale writers.
The first of these supernatural accounts were dismissed by the general, but later considered suspicious, for similar ones came even from the most valiant of fighters and the most trusted of his men. Investigations began with how little knowledge of these spirits and ended with just as little. These spirits were as restless as they were silent.
"It's just a fog," said Glenn calmly to allay fears.
"Just a fog?" Leena protested in agitation. "Haven't you all heard of any of those stories? People lose their way and they see ghosts, I tell you! Some never even return from this, this, this ghostly place."
"That is untrue," corrected Glenn. "Even if there were spirits, rest assured they do not bring harm to people. It should prove no hindrance to our journey. Serge, please stick to our course, for only through it we can reach Mount Pyre."
Leena's face paled.
"I haven't seen or heard anything like that in my world," Serge commented. "When did that appear in this world?"
"About a decade ago," replied Glenn.
"C-Can we please not enter that thing?" Leena pleaded wishfully. "Pretty please?"
Mere hearing guided them through what turned out to be a fog so thick, Glenn felt he had entered into a world of the blind, a world shrouded in total darkness, a darkness that was the sallow color of gray. He saw none the faces of his companions. He could only imagine where his companions sat, in the posture they sat before they sailed into the overwhelming density. He could only imagine the looks they now wore--cautious, edgy and chattering. The weather had seen little rain in the past ten years, but this fog seemed untouched by the heat outside, for it felt cold to the lungs like ice was to the skin. Every inhalation was a nauseating choke down one's throat, every exhalation a sickening crawl up from one's chest. Perhaps, the warmth that failed to reach into the depths of the fog had caused its inside to turn into the bitter cold of the night. Perhaps, as tales went, an unearthly reason lingered.
"This is really bad," Leena commented.
"Bloody hell. Can't see a damn thing, are you sure about this, Sir?" Kid said to Glenn with sarcasm.
Glenn did not try to offer an answer.
Hours passed in the dreadful clutches of the cold, and still not a shore upon which the boat would sail up. No one knew how many hours they had endured for they saw no hint of the sun through the fog. And the compass proved to be of little help. Not that its needle spun eerily, but that it tipped sharply for some reason unknown, as if they now sailed across the North Pole.
Glenn began to see faint shapes appearing before him. He thought these were his imaginations, for after hours in the fog, he could only remember sitting alone by himself. Even if Serge spoke an occasional word, or Kid made an occasional swear, the fog took their words all away from his mind as it did the memories of his friends. But these faint shapes turned to soft shadows, and soft shadows quickly to tangible forms, and for the first time in the last several hours he saw Leena's arms tucked between her legs, her head hanging low in distraught.
"Seems like the fog is clearing," Kid commented. She sat up from a slouch and looked eagerly about her.
Leena looked up, her face pale, as if she were ill. "Really? Th--That's good news," she managed a smile.
The thick fog began to thin, revealing hope that their destination was near. Clouds of mist passed through them and streaks of the same twisted about them. The sun now shone from the skies two hours after noon, and its ball of fire through the misty screen was as ferocious as to the naked eye. The emerald blue of the ocean had became visible and, through the blurry mist, appeared as a gentle gradient from blue of near to the gray of the far. But beyond no horizon at the edge of the great ocean could be seen, for they merely entered a gap in the huge fog, whilst behind their boat one wall of it inched away.
Suddenly, Leena screamed. She covered an ear, jumped in her seat and rocked the boat. With the other hand she pointed to their right and urged with her echoing shrieks everyone to look.
"G-G-Ghost ship!" she yelled hysterically. "It's coming to take us!"
On their far right stood the darkened shape of a large wooden ship, anchored in the waters.
"Hush!" hissed Kid as she leapt forward and gagged Leena's mouth. "Get a hold on yourself!"
When Kid had Leena's struggling screams reduced to muffles, Leena began stamping her feet on the base of the boat, as if she found comfort from fear only by raising the horns for attention. Kid pressed one knee on Leena's thigh to no avail. And all the while, Leena had her eyes wide open and had them fixed on the ship, insistent and unblinking. Even when Kid obscured her view, Leena struggled to poke her head over Kid's shoulder to catch a needed glimpse, as if she yearned for it to under a conjurer's spell transform into some shape, frightening or otherwise. Amidst her fear and interest, it took her a while to realize the furious attention she had earned from her three companions, upon which she slowly lowered her din. She finally closed her eyes and raised both hands guiltily in surrender.
As Kid eased away from Leena, Glenn took a deep breath. He hoped the attention of them three was the only attention she drew.
"It looks like a dragoon's ship," whispered Glenn.
"A dragoon ship?" asked Leena softly.
"Yes. A morning ago, the dragoons deployed an entire fleet of ten such ships to ferry the army to Mount Pyre. It is a sign that we must now be near Mount Pyre. Serge, would you navigate us around the ship while we look for the shore? Keep as far as distance as you can from the great ship and let us not be sighted. We should be difficult to spot." Glenn flicked a glance at Leena. "But let us not keep it out of sight, for in this fog this ship is our only beacon."
Serge rowed their boat round the ship. Kid fixed her eyes on Leena, while Leena fixed hers on the dragoon ship. Glenn kept a watch for any signs of land. After a half hour of circling, he saw nothing close to solid ground on which he could put his feet down, save that of the wooden ship. With only several hours left before night would fall upon them, the situation seemed unpleasant. He pondered over what little options they had, but never once considered floating in the sea enveloped by the black of night.
"What is on your mind, Glenn?" asked Serge.
"I am considering boarding the ship," said Glenn.
Leena raised her arm timidly. "C-Can I say something?"
"It seems like the only way, Leena," replied Glenn to the question Leena had asked not with her words, but with her eyes. "Many needless hours in the fog we have already wasted. The compass needle tips and we must have been going round in circles. If we continue like we did, we might not be able to leave the fog before nightfall, and we should avoid coming to that. Seeking help from the dragoons onboard is the best of any options I have. Might you have something better?"
Leena rubbed her hands and then with her arms folded across her chest, she trembled, as if more bitter was the cold than that of the arctic. Glenn unwrapped his pack and removed from it a pair of gloves which he offered to Leena. She snatched it from his hands, put them on hurriedly and gladly and shrank back into a tight curl.
"Are you afraid, Leena?" Glenn asked out of concern.
"S-S-Says who? I-I am afraid of nothing. Right? No, I am not. Yes? Yes."
"As long as we stick together, we will be fine," said Glenn.
"Easy for you to say," Leena mumbled beneath her breath.
"Excuse me?"
Leena shook her head.
"If there are no objections, let us then head for the ship."
Glenn and Serge rowed them towards the great wooden ship that magnificent vessel towered at least six stories high. Three empty masts towered even further for another ten stories high, from which the sails would hang and catch the moving wind. While this military transport had the power of the winds to sail, it also had the power of the oars to row. Eight giant oars, like the eight long legs of a spider, four on each side, stuck out from the ships hull and dipped into waters. So great were these were oars it would require two hundred of the strongest and the most disciplined men to row the ship an inch. So massive was the entire structure, one could help little but feel hopelessly miniscule, like an ant would when near a black widow.
Serge docked at the port side of the ship, where a platform led on stairs to the main deck above. As Glenn anchored their modest sailboat against the military vessel, the rest alighted and quietly edged up the steps, with Kid taking the cautious lead. He maintained an eye at his surroundings, and a hand on the hilt of his sword, for he was unsure if the dragoons would greet him with a warm welcome amongst three other civilians.
They emerged on the deck to discover it unexpectedly empty. No man stood at the bow, no lookout manning the crow's nest above the ship, and no guards on board the deck against intruders such as them. Yet, it did not seem as if the ship had been deserted by its personnel, for there lay an ugly spectacle of the lack of discipline. Soiled and greased shirts hung from the sail ropes, cigarette butts littered the deck floor, and the vulgarities of the mobster's foul tongue could be seen painted on the steps to the bow. It was much to Glenn's dismay and shame that his companions should be allowed to set foot on such disrepute to the military. He felt compelled to lead them off the ship to consider other options. And he almost voiced his thoughts when a certain wary feeling stirred beneath his chest.
"This cannot be a ship of the dragoons," muttered Glenn as he regarded the features of the ship. "Yet, it is."
"Then what it is?" Leena hissed, her arms flinging wildly. "Let's get off here! I don't want to see ghosts!"
Suddenly, beneath their feet stomped the sounds of many running steps, both urgent and hostile. The four travelers retreated to the stairs, with Kid leading the group and Glenn covering their sixes. Kid and Serge were scrambling down the stairs on their way to escape. But Leena, in terror, tripped over her own feet and crashed painfully onto the deck. Leena yelped but quickly with her own hand she shut her mouth, as if she remembered she should be making no noise. Her cloth pack had slipped from her shoulder and had fallen to the ground, its contents, including her dagger, spilled.
Glenn bent and tried to carry her to her feet. But just this moment, he felt the cold tip of steel touch his jaw and like the frost of ice, it froze him. It slid from his jaw and slid under his chin, where up against his jugular its edge pushed.
"Leaving so soon?" said a rough voice.
A stocky hand hauled him up by his armor and set him down on his feet, his armor clanking. The hand of another man pulled Leena by her hair to her feet. She shrieked and grimaced in pain, but when the blade of steel came swiftly to her neck, she fell obediently silent.
A crowd of men surrounded the two, each flashing an old, oily cutlass. They wore what seemed like uniforms but not of the dragoons. Each capped a bandana of the dull yellow of sand, old and frayed. Each topped a white shirt stained brown by the streaks of soot and oil. Each wore pants of varying shades of blue, faded from over-wash.
"Hey, bucko!" said the man who took Leena hostage from behind. "Looks like me gots lucky. Haven't seens the likes of a fresh lass for many a year now!"
With a cutlass at Leena's neck and the terrifying eyes of a deranged madman, he stroked her fair arm obsessively. When she tried to pull her arm away, he pushed the blade up against her chin.
"Leave her out of this you filthy beast!" demanded Glenn.
"This lad's right. Won't go too easy if I were you," the voice behind Glenn warned. "The captain don't like no dealings with stupid chits."
"Arg! The captain won't know nothin', if you don't squeal on me, that is. 'sides, you can have her once I'm done!"
Then from his filthy mouth came a chilling laughter. Fear of spirits had long melted from Leena's heart, and she began to tremble with rage. Tightly she clenched her fists, and not until the edge of the cutlass pricked at her neck, she did not release them. Glenn reached for his sword, for the words of the enemy had gone too far. He would let no foul crime be committed in his knowledge, as much as he would let no harm come to his companion. He endeavored to charge forward and bring that filthy beast to his knees, begging for forgiveness, begging that judgment be dealt swiftly and painlessly.
This while, driven by the cutlasses of the enemy at the back, Serge and Kid were forced into the centre of the hostility.
"Such great... things! Man, how I would love to see those!" moaned Leena's captor, who must have been for his masculine desires hopelessly seduced by Kid's scanty wear. Much of the attention of those wide dirty eyes rested on her ample chest, though occasionally they did try to peer through the loose gap in her skirt. But his jaws had fallen and now and then he sought to lick the drool that had trickled from the ends of his lips. It seemed as if no longer could the restrains hold, and from within this man was soon to burst a beast of sinful lust and conquer the fairer gender of his race. Indeed, he thrust his pelvic at Leena to quench his thirst. Yet no even an instant she would permit his warped sense of pleasure to become. Before the man made any move, she had him read and read well. And when he made that slightest twitch, she tore from his grip, lifted a foot and threw it down onto her captor's. The man fumbled whilst Leena wheeled and sent flying her foot between his legs; once, twice and a third time with a shriek that would shatter and bring down the heavens. The man fell to his knees in wretched agony, and soon fell flat and cold on the wooden deck.
A fellow comrade hurried to the man to help. Others watched with empathy, still others watched vengefully, but a handful from the look on their faces must fear the same fate.
Leena joined Serge and Kid back to back, fists raised.
"Way to go, girl!" cheered Kid.
"The price is just for the likes of him!" said even Glenn and Glenn's captor snorted.
"But he's disgusting!" she said squirming painfully, as if on her body now crawled a thousand worms and the likes, itching and chewing at her flesh.
"Have you no kind?" asked unintelligibly the man who tried to help Leena's captor. "How you do this to him?"
"What in the bloody hell are you whining about?" asked Kid. "And who in the bloody hell are you blokes?"
To the question he replied, "No dragoon are we, no townfolk are we. Be pirate are we, man of four sea!"
Kid laughed with derision.
"Make way for the captain!" roared another voice.
They opened a way through which a stout man with thick moustache and pigtail walked. He donned a black leather sleeveless top, and the same material for his pants, which in the daylight gleamed with an oily look. His arms were toned and over his left biceps he had tattooed the strange icon of a serpent. Despite the uncouth style of dressing and his association with the outlaws, the demeanor of this man seemed almost refined, as if around him an aura of gallantry glowed. And so imposing he seemed that his men had fallen respectfully silent. Armed with a cigarette butt between his lips, this stout man walked to his hostages and sized them up. Then to the unconscious pirate his gaze went, and he grunted with little sympathy.
"Haul him away, handsomely now!" he said to two of his pirates, and immediately they did as they were ordered. As they dragged the unconscious man away, the captain puffed on his cigarette and blew from between his lips a ring of smoke into the skies.
"Surely you are not...," mused Glenn as he watched the smoke ring ascend and slowly lose itself in the thin mist.
"Do I know ye, soldier?" said Fargo, unfazed.
"No. But I know you, Sir Fargo, a proud member of the four Devas of the thirteenth generation."
The captain of the ship regarded Glenn with little interest. Then, like the sudden crack of thunder, he roared in laughter.
"Hate to disappoint ye, but that's history! I now be a proud pirate of the four seas. And you, I say, lowly hostages!"
"We are here because we seek help," said Glenn.
"No worries, lad!" said the captain. "We've got rooms for yer stay, under lock and key."
"What the hell do you want from us?" Kid protested, her feet stirring agitatedly.
"Don't play stupid, lass. General Viper's ships are anchored nearby. Ye're getting to Mount Pyre to deliver them a message, ain't ye? Don't have to tell me: ye must have thought our ship was one of the lubbers'!"
The captain and his host of pirates laughed.
"You do not have the facts straight," Glenn explained. "We, too, are in pursuit of Lynx."
Fargo regarded his hostages with derision. On each of them his gaze fell, the deeper wrinkles of disbelief between his brows folded. Then as if he had just heard the first joke in months of desolation on the sea, he laughed with all intent to humiliate.
"What's so funny?" said Kid.
"Ye even serious?" Captain Fargo demanded as he flicked his cigarette over the deck into the sea.
"How serious we are is really none of your business!"
"Course it is. You, taking on Lynx with just the four of you? Ye tickle me bones! Me says that's just bilge to cut yerself loose from here!"
"I'll cut you up before you'd even think about it."
"Interesting. Show me!"
Kid flitted swiftly from where she stood, and with a flick of her arm, she slashed her dagger at Fargo. With his strong arms he blocked, and then with a roar he threw a punch square at Kid's face, and another. Yet on her feet she firmly stood, even if the weight of Fargo's fist should send one falling on his bottoms. Two punches he had thrown and when he attempted a third, Kid dodged and countered with her own. With knuckles hardened by skirmishes as such, she went first for his eye, then at his jaw, and after a full twist about her left foot she flung her other slamming hard into his face. The burly captain staggered back three steps much to everyone's surprise, for that swift kick seemed in all eyes as gentle as the fall of feather. With his hand the captain wiped discontentedly the trickle of blood from his lips. Kid smiled, and with a rude beckon she called eagerly for his next.
"What else do you have up your sleeves?" she scorned, referring to the captain's lack of it.
"Not bad!" Fargo said with a face, pale. "But keep in mind: we be pirates!"
"Watch your sixes, mates!" Kid warned.
For a moment, awkward silence ensued. Whilst Glenn tried to decipher the meaning of the captain's words, he also watched the pirates warily. He had expected the captain to take his defeat sorely and to order the downfall of the four under the cutlasses of his men. Surely their numbers, if not their wit and experience in battle, would prove an obstacle to the four companions, a threat to their lives if they were careless. Yet, in that moment's worth of wait, the captain made no move, much to discomfort of his instincts.
"I..." Serge said, hand to his forehead. "I feel..." But before he could even complete his sentence, he fell flat on his face, unconscious.
"Serge!" Kid called, but even she quickly succumbed.
"Kid! Serge!" cried Leena, then in tears she turned to Captain Fargo. "What have you done!"
"It's a tranquilizer made from jellyfish stingers," a pirate explained helpfully. "You land lubbers will fall asleep for a jolly good while."
Leena lasted long enough to hear the explanation. Without a struggle, she collapsed.
The world through Glenn's vision began to blur, and his arms and legs began to soften like jelly. Soon his legs relented and he fell to his knees. Sword thrust into the wooden floor, he attempted feebly to support himself. But alas, no strength or will he had could conquer the poison that was taking him. After a last struggle to utter into words his muddled thoughts, he, too, fell.
Spring was to a new year like dawn was to a new day, a refreshing start to a cycle that ever rolled towards eternity. It drove away the sorrows of a previous year, but rolled in the simple bliss part of every new ones. Even on this tropical paradise, warm and sunny year round, nature in the months of spring seemed ever so beautiful, ever so captivating. Roses of red blossomed in the sun of the spring, birds of white sang beneath it. The seas looked bluer, the skies fairer. Trees seemed greener, and the woods friendlier. Even the people who lived amongst the phenomenal beauty lived with lifted spirits. Such were the wonders of spring.
This new season sent the beatings away from his bottoms, and the bright smiles to the faces of his parents. This morning gave him weather great for a time of fun and laughter in the fields. Both gave him the audacity to leave the house without word, and to venture into the woods to join friends in an infrequent game of catch.
Serge always won the forfeit, always lost to his older, stouter villagers who had far greater speeds at running. He had none of the athletic build for good sprints, and knew little of the terrain he rarely had a chance to explore. Thus, he was always caught by his friends who hid behind a tree or who outran him. Yet, as all youngsters did, he had his huge dose of entertainment, part of which was derived from breaking the promises of obedience.
"I caught you!"
A rude slap fell on his shoulder.
"It's your turn!" growled his friend, twice as tall as he was.
Disgruntled, Serge shook his head with a groan.
"I'll get you guys!" Serge vowed.
His friend smirked, put a thumb to his nose, and wiggled his fingers. Hoping for a quick catch, Serge reached a hand out but caught nothing.
His friend had already taken off.
Serge followed the tracks of his friend that were soon lost in grass. He ran through the woods, past his village, but found no one waiting to be caught. He scoured the bushes, the lidded barrels, the treetops but found no one willing to succeed his role. From sprints to jogs, jogs to strides, his pace slowed while exhaustion quickly caught up with him. Under the warm afternoon, his hair was wet, his back soaked. He wiped with one arm after another perspiration that tickled his cheeks and stung his eyes. He bent and panted furiously, as he wondered how he would be laughed at for being slow, and worst of all, always the incompetent loser.
For a moment, he thought that the game had ended without notice, and that he had been forgotten. But this moment, he heard the movement of rustle in the bushes and spotted the flitting of a shadow through the trees in the forest. Encouraged by the proximity of his hope, Serge charged ahead. Driven by the wish to end this part of the game, he charged into unknown territory. Enthusiasm fuelled his legs, which paddled him towards a friend who disappeared quickly. The inertia of persistence dragged him further, towards what began to seem like a dangerous presumption. The longer he persisted, the more exhaustion wore out his limbs. Until came a point when he could forge ahead no further.
Serge stopped for a breather. What was left of his strength, he spent puffing breathlessly. He crumbled to his knees, and his body fell forward, kept fallen to the floor by his supporting arms. He watched perspiration drip from his head to the ground, as if he watched down from the clouds rain of a storm fall to earth. His heart hammered against his ears and his body, as if a carpenter did the same and tried to nail him together.
When fatigue receded, Serge lifted his head for a view. He realized he had given a chase too far, too deep. What he sought had gone. Where he came from was no longer discernable. He had all fours on dark mud that had swallowed his trails and left his being stranded amidst the wild. He saw only trees, trees that sprouted into the heavens and shaded all things beneath, trees that grew into the distance and were fogged by the darkness, trees that spanned his view and ensnared him within their cage. He heard no noises; none from the toads, none from the birds, none from the leaves that moved in the wind.
The instant he got to his feet, he caught movement from the corner of his vision. He turned towards it but saw nothing visible. He scanned all directions but discovered nothing his eyes could see. He turned round after another until he lost sense of direction, as well as any hope of backtracking. He swallowed hard, certain that an unpleasant something lurked in the cover of the thick trunks and leafy bushes, slowly watching him, and slowly waiting.
Leaves rustled behind.
Fear struck him like thunder struck a tree and set it aflame. Shock gripped his being and sent electrifying waves of spasm, painful and searing, as if his flesh were on fire. Much strength had fled from his muscles before he could flee for his life, as if even it were terrified. His limbs had malfunctioned, as if their joints had rusted and jammed. His mind had shut down, as if it had been pulled from within his skull, leaving behind an empty husk. Serge channeled what little ounce of strength he was left with into his wobbly legs and turned slowly. Like each thump of his heart measured the slow crawl of time, each trunk of tree that entered his vision marked the inching towards a terror unknown, a terror that would soon present a face.
When terror greeted Serge with two eyes of a black panther, the arctic frost of the poles swept through him and froze him. At a hundred feet ahead, the panther watched Serge, as if with delight, with anticipation. Its teeth glistened like that of glass even under the grim shades of leaves. It growled, as if it spoke of in its own language its voracious appetite that Serge's flesh and blood would satiate. Its saliva dripped, as if it imagined its food already in its ravenous mouth. Its legs moved it towards its lunch, inch by inch, and then wider in steps.
Serge's legs, however, crumbled, sending his weight collapsing onto the muddy ground. Tears flowed. Desperate shrieks echoed. These cries left unheard were his only effort that came too little, too late.
The panther pounced.
A jolt at his foot woke Glenn up. When he opened his eyes he saw Serge sitting up, his face pallid, his forehead breaking sweat.
"What happened?" asked Glenn.
But to that concern Serge made no effort to reply, for he seemed lost in his own world. Even with a wave and at a snap before Serge's eyes they did not blink, as if they had lost all sight of things. Depthless and dead were his eyes and no light of life glowed in them. He tried to nudge Serge at the shoulder, but as if his soul had departed from his body Serge remained silent and unresponsive. Fearing for his teammate, Glenn woke the ladies up. Kid scampered on fours to Serge, and gave Serge a tight slap on the cheek.
"Oi! What's wrong?" she screamed into his ears.
Serge swallowed hard and closed his eyes to regain his composure. "I had a dream," he said with a shaky voice. "A nightmare."
"Only a nightmare?" Leena said. "You gave us such a fright!"
"I'm sorry," said Serge as he opened his eyes and lowered his gaze, as if remorsefully.
It was then that Glenn stood and tried the door to discover that they had been locked in. Casting glances around, he observed crates, spaces, anchors, ropes and a myriad of other naval equipment had been crammed into what seemed like a storage room. An old lamp threw a gloomy yellow upon the wooden walls clogged with blackened slime and homes to a colony of ants. The choking stench of grease reeked and stung one's nose, for the window that looked out beyond the wooden walls had been sealed shut. And through that window only a filthy gray could be seen, as if night was soon to fall.
But Glenn drew his sword, for it seemed that his ears picked out in the stillness faint sounds of anxious wrestles and the low rumbles of running feet. And beneath his skin he felt a difference in the air he breathed, as if they were being watched.
"Something's wrong," he warned. "Be on your guard."
Then came a tormented scream, that of a woman, ripping and tearing into the silence. Glenn's hair stood and everyone else in the little room froze.
Leena gasped, her face paled. "What's that?" she whispered frightfully.
An apparition passed through the wall into the storage room and almost like an angel who descended from heavens she looked, though basked in a dull, brooding white. She cast her hollow eyes on the companions, of whom Serge seemed to interest her most. Slowly she moved towards him. She had no feet, or none to be seen but the frayed hems of a long white dress that trailed eerily her effortless drift in the air. She held a hand out in welcome, as if for Serge to hold and to support. On her flawless face, she wore a smile sweet as honey of the summer bees but deep and unfathomable as the depths of the vast ocean.
"Come!" she spoke, her voice gentle and moving. "Come with us, young man. You do not belong in this world. Do not linger amongst the living when you are already dead!"
"It is you who must leave us. For this friend of mine is perfectly human!" said Glenn, who had in his hand an Element of the Holy White.
"The mortal words of yours cannot fool the eyes of ours. How millions of tortured souls in the dead zone would like a second chance at life in his expired body! After ten long years it has been since we were trapped in this dead zone. Tell me that truthfully indeed this young man belongs to your world, and I shall leave."
"Nonsense!" retorted Kid. "He belongs to our world and our world only!"
"Leave now!" said Glenn, brandishing the Elements. "Or be banished from all worlds forever!"
"And let the others take him?" said the ghost disapprovingly before she howled in laughter.
But when she ventured to approach Serge, Glenn focused and cast the power of the holy white at the apparition. Engulfed in the burning glare, the ghost shrieked and writhed in agony. The beauty of her youthful self fled and left behind dark shadows of wrinkles that spoke of grieving old age. The power of the holy slowly and surely was consuming her. Soon into white mist her beautiful but tormented soul dissipated, and with it her sorrowful cries, now a lost echo fading into the distance.
"Let us leave this room," said Glenn, and Leena agreed instantly. "And ready your curative Elements."
Glenn kicked the wooden door and from the metal hinges its frame tore.
"Come on!" Glenn waved, and the four bolted through the door, through the corridor and up onto the main deck.
Now sailing beside them was another ship, large but grey and lifeless, as if it had come from another world. While the sun still shone several hours past noon in the western sky, it shone from behind a thick curtain of shadow emanating from the undead vessel. So dim it was it seemed as if they now sailed under the unsettling storm clouds of grey. Shielded from the heavenly glare of the sun, spirits emerged from the ghost ship's deck and hulls and in an army of many faint wisps they drifted toward their ship. Yet, the pirates were fiercely engaged in blows with those that had already arrived, and all over the deck the glare of white exploded like lightning and thunder in a storm, engulfing in each two or three spirits, sending them to their everlasting deaths.
"Bugger! There's really a ghost ship," Kid mumbled.
"T-That is a g-ghost ship?" Leena stammered.
As Serge's presence became noticed by the spirits, they began to turn their eyes on him. Most had begun to ignore their adversary, and blindly they drifted toward Serge. This moment, an idea began to chart itself in Glenn's mind.
"Arr!" roared Captain Fargo, who had also spotted them and hurried over to them.
"Serge!" said Glenn. "Those spirits are after you it seems, and I intend to put you out as a bait. Captain Fargo, you are here just in time. I want to put Serge at the bow. He will be charged with the responsibility of steering the ship. Will that be all right with you?"
"What ideas have ye?" said the captain. "Tell us what to do."
"Well then. Captain Fargo, you will lead half your men into the oars' room and row the ship forward. We must not stay stationary. The other half of your men, Kid and I will lead them at both sides of the deck; half of us will cover Serge and destroy the spirits while the other half of us focus our attack on the ghost ship. Serge, you steer the ship away from the ghost ship, but do not steer too far. The spirits will drift towards you but they will be easy targets for us. Leena, you are our best magician here. I want you to cover over Serge and destroy those spirits, but retreat only if you need."
"Aye!" said the captain, who immediately gathered his men, and a great half of them quickly disappeared into the lower decks. Serge hurried to the bow together with Leena, and the pirates quickly destroyed the remaining spirits on board. Before the next host of spirits arrived, Glenn divided the men and assigned them to both sides of the deck where he decisively commanded their assault.
The great oars of the pirate ship began to move as did the engines of the tactical battle. Spheres of bright white exploded in the air and burnt the oncoming spirits into eternal oblivion. In their despair, they shrieked and they cried. Carried by the sorrowful darkness, their cries dug into one's heart the roots of misery just as it poisoned one's mind. One after another their terrible voices continued to echo far into the dark distance. One after another the agony chilled and terrified the hearts of the men on board and even Glenn. But he did wish for the men to waver before the spirits, for to waver was exactly what the enemy wished of them. So he sought to raise their morale and encouraged their firm stand against the dark side.
"You are men of the four seas!" he roared. "Drive these invaders away and protect what belongs to you! Bring down the ship!"
Thereupon, the men cheered, "Men of the four seas! Bring down the ship!"
Lights flashed in the distance and they put hole after hole into the ghost ship. As the presence of the holy white grew stronger, larger and larger each sphere of light became, and worse the damage they each dealt. Glenn whipped out his Element beads and cast one after another at the huge vessel. As he did so, he wondered if he indeed had just uttered those words with such fervor and strength. When he heard the pirates cheer in lifted spirits, he felt a lump in his throat and a snuffle coming on. He had hardly thought of himself as someone who would be there issuing orders, and most of all, uniting his men as one fighting force to be reckoned with. Here, he began to understand that it was in him that he would depend when he could, but to lead when he was not led. He began to understand a little of what it took to be a leader, and how it felt to be one. Great were the responsibilities, but greater the fruition of his leadership if he managed well. In that few words, he had inspired men not of his own, but in return they had inspired him.
At last, the army of the undead began to dwindle in numbers. The vessel of the undead began to sink and lag and as it did, the cloak of the shadow began to melt away. Through the riddled holes appearing in the cloak of shadow, the sun poured its rays into this part of the world, as if through storm clouds that were clearing from the skies. The unfortunate spirits who had found themselves in the path of the sun were all consumed in white flames and forever put to rest. One spirit who dodged into the shadow lived long enough to painfully witness daylight return to the mortal.
Along with the ghost ship, the fog had disappeared for the first time in ten years. Beyond that now lie clearly the various islands of the archipelago, crowned by its lush greenery of the summer. Once again the horizon that split heaven from ocean could be seen. Once again, the sun shone proudly as it began a steep tumble down the western skies. The biting, unearthly cold was no longer and though the harshest of heat had returned it was to Glenn a blessing more than it was blight.
The pirates cheered and clapped and hugged Glenn like he was them their brother-in-arms.
"Well done, sir," said Kid with a pat on Glenn's shoulder and an approving thumbs-up.
Glenn smiled and to Leena he said, "Are you all right?"
"Oh yes, of course. I wasn't scared or anything! If that's what you meant."
"Serge?" said Glenn.
"All's well, mostly," was Serge's reply.
Captain Fargo ascended to the main deck and with an approving nod he regarded the four companions.
"Looks like I've been wrong about you lads," he said. Then, turning to his crew, he shouted, "Matey! anyone of me hearties down?"
"Nay, captain!" shouted a relieved pirate. "Except for you-know-who. His 'down-theres' looks like's gone for keelhaul, so I heard."
"This be the S. S. Invincible!" proudly declared Captain Fargo, as he led them companions down the steps to the lower deck. "Long ago its own maiden name it had, but I have long forgotten. 'twas many a year ago, you see. But this is my ship, my home, my life, as is that of my mateys aboard! Come! Men of the four seas do not forget their saviors and benefactors!"
"But why pirate?" Glenn asked. "Off trading vessels and even the dragoon fleet, and especially the dragoon fleet."
Fargo stopped on a step, turned to Glenn and growled, "Ye speak too much, what's-his-face-again! Ne'er do we repay our benefactors with our life stories, and ne'er do our benefactors meddle in the businesses of others. Speak more, and I shall have you be the enemy of Captain Fargo."
Ignoring the warning, Glenn stared him in the eye and curtly spoke, "Look at what you have done to our ship--a dragoon's ship. And you, Sir Fargo, are a Deva. Even if of a past generation, you die a Deva. For even a man to stoop to such depths is shame to himself. And shame is what you have brought to the repute of the dragoons."
"Well said!" roared Fargo as he closed in on Glenn and breathed heat in his face as if he breathed the fire of an irate beast. "But best said to the general," he said with a twitch of an eyebrow. "Shame of disrepute mars the glorious flag of the dragoons; stain of blood mars the silver steel of their blades. Had it not been for the general and his policies, we would have been--"
Fargo stared into Glenn's eyes, unable to finish. The fire from the lamps burned in his eyes. For a moment, Glenn saw it appropriate to discontinue, for behind the rage he saw a faint flicker of sadness, of unspoken despair.
The "betrayal" of Fargo had been set as a counter-example of how unbecoming of a dragoon. And such words as betrayal were amongst the ugly names the dragoons had unanimously branded this pirate with. In the eyes of the army, Fargo was but a shadowy figure without a face, a figure with his past told in the black pages of the dragoons' history. That he was the one who walked out of the gates willing, they chanted. That he was the one who turned from the light to face the dark, they preached. That his downfall shall soon come to him swift, they vowed, but never did. Instead, the captain had used cover of the fog against all eyes, and against all those who promised to topple him, braving that which had much unearthly tales to tell.
Fargo backed from Glenn and blew smoke. "Long ago," said he in a softened tone, "me knew someone like you, but he's now back at the locker. If he be around, I might still be Sir Fargo. But who's to say? Nothing ever is predictable."
"Who might you be speaking of?" asked Glenn.
"Grandmaster of the thirteenth generation of Devas, young man. Garai be his name," said Fargo. "Arr! A valiant warrior as far as I can remember, a great fighter he be. But his death was a mystery. Brought down by a blade, so I heard. But who knows of anyone who had the audacity and the knack to match? Not even in the dragoons, we do not. But do you know Garai in person?"
Glenn inhaled deeply and stirred in his feet. He became uncertain whether or not to reveal his lineage to this traitor of the military, and he could imagine the familiar scowls his revelation would bring to this pirate. "In the shadow of your father you live but none of the glory you bring," they were wont to say as much as he was loath to hear. "Who are you to lecture me on repute and disrepute?" And so Fargo might even add.
"Garai's his father!" said Leena helpfully. Color had returned to her cheeks, the color of rosy pink. She wore a proud grin as if she were too glad to share any knowledge she had with all.
On Glenn Fargo affixed his eyes with as much a look of expectation as of disdain. "Little wonder," was all he said. His eyes said the rest.
Fargo turned and led the companions to a door. With an adjusting nudge and kick at the frame, he opened the door, through which the bright of sun poured and the freshness of moving air flowed. Into the room they went, a room furnished with wooden benches and tables, old and dark like that of coffee brown. Their tops were badly chipped into, their edges frayed with protruding splinters. Empty wooden frames that hung on the sidewalls of would give the dining room a cold, discomforting look of solitude, had it not been for the huge doorway into the balcony, through which the splendid view of the seas could be seen.
"Sit yourselves comfortable," said Fargo, and with an arm in gesture, he urged the companions to their seats. "I have had the cook ready your meal and extras for the taking. None the likes of royal delicacies, nor will you see linings of the silver platter. But it is fuel for your mind and body. I'll leave you lads here, while I tend to the... the mess upstairs." Fargo ended with a tilt of the head before he left through the door.
"Some pirate," said Leena, her brows raised, and her lips biting each other. She looked happy, and if she were trying to, she tried hard. She seemed to have forgotten the nightmare on board the Invincible of having come face to face with ghosts and spirits of the netherworld. She seemed free.
"Are you all right?" Glenn asked, concerned.
"Perfectly fine!" she replied with a healthy grin, one that set Glenn's heart at ease.
This while, Serge stood up from the bench so suddenly, he startled the ladies. Sullenness swept the brush of despair over his face, the burden of troubles on his mind revealed their pressing weight upon his weary eyes. Leaving his double-bladed swallow sitting upon the dining table, Serge left his companions and walked slowly, heavily towards the balcony. Kid leapt from her seat and swiftly, she joined his company. With an arm wrapped loosely round Serge's neck, she began speaking to him softly. And Leena, who sought to stand, sank back into her seat. The lifted spirits forsook her, and as if the wings of the angel had disappeared, her fair shoulders fell heavily into dejection. A sudden gloom veiled the dining room like the sweeping shadow of the clouds of storm. In its midst, the gentle whispers from Serge and Kid drifted to their ears, whispers that must sound like the split of thunder to Leena's sensitive ear.
Then, to her feet Leena sprang, with a bitter smile on her face. "I have to go to the ladies," she declared noisily, as if to declare to both Serge and Kid who were too intent on each other's counsel to be paying attention. "Be back in a while!"
"Let me accompany you," offered Glenn, for he saw all that happened before his eyes.
"I remember now," spoke Serge softly as he gazed into the distance, a backdrop of pale blue. Mount Pyre stood easterly against the plain blue and stretched like a plateau across the western edge of the main continent. The dull of gray cast the color of gloom upon its slopes, conquered its foot and reached menacingly towards the shores upon which the waves of the sea crushed. Within its unappealing guise lay the burning fires feared by all men, but this day conquered by the dragoons. Even a flock of birds that had ventured towards the cavern entrance soon veered towards the north.
Intently Serge stared into the cavern entrance that infused within his veins with a sense of darkness and foreboding. As he fell into a world of his own, he imagine the echoes of the chants of a thousand chilling voices beckoning his presence. And as each moment passed, the entrance seemed to grow in size, as if it were coming for him, or as if he went towards it on his own accord. Whilst the black of the cavern robbed him of his vision, memories granted him sight into his past, much to his dislike. He saw floating in his mind memories that were once happy, memories that were once sad. But worst of them all, he saw in stark reality memories that stirred within him remorse and forlornness.
Remorse took the form of a man who wore an exuding charisma, a healthy tan and always a hat over his head. Forlornness appeared in the form of another, stout and strong, and whose strict discipline and guidance still struck both fear and respect in Serge's heart. In the early hours of the rising sun Serge watched from the tavern door in secret, the two young sailors in their late twenties--the closest of friends, the best of buddies. They raised their mug of ale in cheers while they joked of beauties, brandy, and all things adult, like they always did each morning. When Serge left them at the tavern that day to join his friends against all advice, he left them both forever.
"I killed both Leena's and my father," Serge confessed.
"What?" hissed Kid, who stood closely beside Serge. The frayed threads of her red blouse brushed against his arm, her every breath warmed his cheek. And as she laid a hand on his shoulder, she regarded him with a look of puzzle.
"I should never have gone out to play that day," mumbled Serge. "I was only three, and it was only a game of catch. But look what happened! I ended up bitten by a panther. I remember how felt. I was scared. I saw blood and I felt pain. But at three, I could not understand at all what was happening. When the pain left, and sleep crept up to me, I even remember feeling elated. After that, in my dreams, I heard shouting from somewhere, as if they came from a distance. I think I heard crying, too. I felt my head wobble. Surely I was being carried around. But I just let myself fall deeper into sleep. The panther was poisonous, and its venom was slowly taking me. Leena's father and mine must have tried everything they could to save a young dying child, but they died trying."
"It's not your fault," Kid hissed into Serge's ears. "At three, you were only a little squirt and wee tall."
"My father died because of that little squirt!" snapped Serge. "Leena's father died because of me! All because of a moment of folly! I should have died, but two other lives were sacrificed instead."
"It was an accident!" Kid retorted. "If you had known, would you still have gone out to play? If you had known, no one had to die. Hell, had anyone known, none in this world will perish! But we never know. Yes, it may be an excuse, it may be a break. But the past is now behind you, Serge, so leave all the hell of it behind you."
Serge softened, "I know what you mean. But it is difficult."
"It is difficult, but you, yes, you can. You have it in you. Don't despair."
Serge felt Kid's grip on his shoulder firmed, the support from it giving him a good measure of strength. From the dark depths of despair it was pulling him up, and urging him to cling tight for his dear life. As the walls of the distant past fell away from around him, the light of the heavens gradually opened to his eyes. Yet, now and then his grew an urge to look down and a desire to slip back down into the darkness. The recurring indecision dug into and rooted in his mind, its intention to take him away from freedom. Serge succumbed. With a release of a hand, he slid down the lifeline towards rejection, towards downright denial.
"I can't," he said. Then, he found a convenient excuse. "What am I to tell her? What am I to tell Leena?"
"You don't."
Serge regarded Kid whose counsel presented a tempting option, even if it means he might have to lie. "But what if she finds out? That she knew that I knew I caused her father's death."
"You worry too much, mate. I'll... you know. I'll help. We'll think of a way when the time comes."
Serge nodded, slowly, as if uncertainly. As he found himself pulled into the bright of day, the noose of remorse remained tight around his chest, newly surfaced memories lingered in his vision.
"Thank you, Kid."
Kid bopped her head and with a wave she dismissed immediately her effort. Then, she turned and scratched the back of her head as she stared at the empty benches. "Now, where have those two gone?"
Leena flounced out of the dining mess into the corridor, but she headed nowhere toward the washrooms. She never said a word, but tugged her hands behind her. Puzzled, Glenn accompanied her as he promised, down the corridor, up the steps, deck after deck, until they reached the top. There she walked to the wooden railing at the edge and stared out into the ocean. Instinctively, Glenn hurried to her and grabbed her by her arm.
"Don't do anything silly," he said.
Leena turned to Glenn, with a look more puzzled than that of a confused child. It was a while later before she gave a soft and innocent chuckle. "No! I am not going to jump! You silly!" With her hand Leena ruffled Glenn's hair, like a sister did to a brother.
"I see," Glenn released her arm, and turned to look at the sea.
For a moment Leena seemed content to stare aimlessly into the vast blue expanse, even under the stifling heat of the afternoon sun. The calm of the seas reflected its serenity in her eyes like it would in a mirror. She smiled, sweet and gentle, her lips curled like the petals of a budding rose. Then, she closed her eyes, and with a deep breath drew into her the warmth of nature and the essence of life.
"Glenn, have you been in love before?" she asked as she opened her eyes.
Glenn looked at her, with no expression.
"Now I know how it pains to see your loved one with another."
Glenn said nothing.
"I'm fine, Glenn," she said, biting her lips. "I just wanted to talk about it. Can't feel any better! Thank you!"
Leena turned from the rail, and as her face turned before him he spotted a trickle of tear down her cheeks.
"It is Serge," Glenn couldn't help say, "isn't it?"
She stopped. She looked up into the sky for a while and then slowly, she turned back to the railings to face the calm waves. "You could tell?"
Glenn wondered how anyone would not.
"Obvious to you, but oblivious is Serge."
Leena chose silence to spell her thoughts, and for another moment she gazed into the sea, as if each wave were her thoughts poured onto it. Glenn waited for he knew she had something to speak, something she was dying to let someone else know. He had little friends of the fairer gender, but he found her easy to read. That dull shine of pearl in her eyes spoke to him more than words would say.
"When I first met him, I felt I knew him long ago. Only when I knew who he really was did I discover why. But I was mistaken when I thought what I had for him was just--"
Her tongue failed her.
"Friendship?" Glenn added on her behalf.
Leena nodded slowly. She turned to him, her eyes watery. "Bitter sweet is how I can explain that feeling. Sometimes it makes you want to tell everyone to know how elated you feel. Sometimes it makes you feel an ache in your heart, numb but terribly hurtful. At first, I thought I'd be better if I bring them both and see them together. I wanted them to be happy. It turned out to be a mistake, I suppose."
"It was very brave of you."
"Brave?" Leena heaved a long sigh. "Silly is the word!"
"I understand how you feel, for there is--"
"There is what?"
"No, there is nothing at all."
"Not a very good liar, I see. There is someone you like, too?"
A sudden ticklish heat burnt up his face and, in the blaze of the sun, scorched his ears cherry red. A desire to scratch the embarrassment off his face tingled his fingers; the same to run from it all stung his legs. His wandering eyes found a diversion in the distant landmass, and affixed their gaze upon it. Yet, he could feel those of Leena probe into his every lack of reaction, his every twitch of the eyebrow, his every swallow of uneasiness, and through them peer into the deeper recesses of his emotions. The robust iron of his armor would keep the sharpest of blades at bay, but could do nothing now to foil her sharpest of inquisitions from slowly slicing through and dissecting him.
"Lady Riddel, is it not?" guessed Leena.
"How could you know?"
"How could you tell my feelings for Serge? The same way I can tell yours for Riddel, Glenn. The way you look at her and the way you talk to her. You don't talk much and when you do, you always sound dorky much like Serge does! And pardon me if offended you. But before her, you are radiant, and words from your heart speak through your mouth smooth as the flow of warm honey. You care a lot about her, I can tell. Have you told her?"
"That cannot be possible," said Glenn as he tried to understand how the hints could have shown through, and how he could be just as easily read.
"Why's that?"
"She's betrothed."
"Oh... to your elder brother, right?" Leena said ruefully. After which, she was speechless. Then, at length, she apologized softly, "I'm so sorry!"
"Be sorry of nothing, for it is no fault of yours. I've been through it long enough to feel little. But for you, the pain must hurt for the wound's still fresh. Perhaps you have considered leaving and heading home."
"The day I met Serge, I've made myself a promise to see him and Kid through this. I'll keep that promise... I'll achieve it, I'm sure." Her voice cracked.
"If you need an ear--"
"Thank you, Glenn!" Leena interrupted. Like a little girl she hopped to a tiptoe. And with a tilt of her head, she joyfully spoke, "Thank you for listening! I really appreciate your counsel. I feel so much better now! Let's go, shall we? They must be waiting for us. And don't worry, your secret's safe with me."
Leena ended with a wink and hurried to the stairs. Glenn watched from her back her haste, and watched her cover her mouth. Little doubt, tears were flowing.
"I haven't the slightest idea how ye land lubbers will get to Mount Pyre," said Captain Fargo as he unwound the rope that anchored the sail boat to the S. S. Invincible. "Mount Pyre is a fiery hell! That much I'm sure even you have heard. Can't even get near it, let alone into it. No magic, no Lynx, ye'd never make it through I can assure ye."
After Serge packed their belongings neatly onto the boat, he turned to Fargo with a grateful smile. "I thank you for the lunch and kind warning. But we must go after Lynx into Mount Pyre. We'll find a way, whatever it takes."
"Whatever you say, lad," said Fargo, unimpressed. "But ye're always welcome aboard whenever you need food and shelter. If you need any help, just call out my name."
"You won't appear before us like a God, now would you?" joked Leena, as she tried to act puzzled.
"No. But like any God, you'll have my silent support," said Fargo.
Leena returned a polite smile.
Kid snorted, raised an eyebrow to hint her displeasure. "Let's just get out of here."