8 Without A Name

Ash bolted upright in the bed, instantly awakened by the sound of someone knocking against its head. Lotus stood over him, the urgency clearly expressed on his face.

"You need to wake up," the old man said. "You have just enough time to dress yourself and eat and then we need to be going."

Ash rolled out of bed and slipped on a clean pair of socks, then his shoes and jacket. Following Lotus from the bedroom, Ash noticed that the sun was already up.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's almost noon," Lotus replied. "You were up late, so I decided I would let you sleep as long as I could. You've ten minutes and Lilly's already prepared breakfast."

In the dining room, Ash took a seat at the table and Lilly gave him a bowl of oatmeal. While he waited for it to cool, he poured some syrup into the bowl to give a little flavor to the insipid food and stirred it. As he ate, he watched Lotus preparing his spell with curiosity.

The old man quickly dropped a few odd ingredients into his mixing bowl and poured in just enough water to cover the bottom of it. Lifting the bowl, he churned the mixture a bit and then grabbed a small jar filled with a thick, brown fluid. The liquid oozed from the jar like molasses into the bowl, absorbing the water on contact. Lotus kneaded it with his fingers until it became a brown, clay-like mass and then rolled it all into a large ball.

"Are we ready?" Lotus asked, rising to his feet.

Dropping his bowl into the wash basin, Ash nodded his head and the others agreed.

"Good. Now, I need to be in contact with whatever's coming with me, so each of you put a hand on my shoulder."

Once the others had done so, Lotus ripped a piece off of his ball and swallowed it, shuddering from its bitter taste. Forcing all distractions out of his mind, Lotus concentrated on his destination.

A sudden, lightheadedness came over Ash; a strange sensation of being pulled out of his body. He heard an odd popping sound and his sight plunged into blackness. His senses ceased, his form became intangible as vapor and his thoughts froze. For a single instant, he was nothing. Then he saw light somewhere far in the distance, an exit to the tunnel. He felt himself being drawn toward that light and as he neared it, his mind began to remember itself, pulling his incorporeal shape back together. A few seconds after it started, the sensation ended.

Ash blinked, then looked around him. He stood in a small room furnished with only a work desk, an office of some kind. A strange chill shot down his spine as the energies of the spell dissipated, clearing his mind.

"Even with the most powerful magic in the world," he heard Lotus groan, "potions still taste bitter."

"Where are we?" Brock asked.

"One of our meeting places," Lotus explained, starting toward the door.

The others followed him out. The building they were in was a large store, its shelves lined various products. The sign on the front door window had been turned so that the side that read "closed" was facing outside and the store was completely empty, except for a red-headed clerk who was sweeping the aisles. Seeing the rest of them, he put his broom aside, dusted off his apron and approached them.

"Master Lotus," he said with a nod. "We've been waiting for you. Please follow me."

The clerk started for the storage room door, but stopped when he heard the sound of a knock at the door. Quickly, the young man went to the door and opened it, prepared to explain that the store was closed.

"Miss Amelia!" he started. "Please, come in."

A tall, dark-haired woman in her mid-twenties slipped into the store, closing the door as she did. Following nervously behind her, a small toddler clung ardently to the left leg of her pants with one hand and hugged a clefairy doll in the other. The young boy's silvery-gray hair shimmered in the light and his yellow-green eyes darted about alertly.

Ash watched the child curiously. The boy seemed oddly familiar to him, but he couldn't understand why. Something about the face he could almost remember seeing somewhere before, but whatever it was slithered out of his hands as his mind began to close in on it.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said. "I was called so late last night that I couldn't find anyone to baby-sit for Jeremy. Am I late?"

"The council hasn't begun yet," the clerk explained, "but I believe everyone who can come is already here."

Amelia followed the clerk to the back of the store, noticing the others.

"Lotus," she greeted pleasantly. "I see you've brought your granddaughter with you. And some others."

Lotus chuckled at Amelia's questioning expression. Putting his hand on Ash's shoulder, he explained, "This boy is the reason I called the meeting."

Amelia nodded, but there seemed to be uneasiness in her expression. "I was told that this meeting was about Jin'ei."

Lotus nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

Amelia's face paled slightly. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"I don't know," Lotus replied, his tone gentle. "I really don't know. It's up to the council to decide, but, based upon the severity of his crime, I doubt that there will be any future for Jin'ei."

Ash noticed a glint of sadness in Amelia's eyes, almost as if she felt pity for the madman about to be condemned. Amelia sighed heavily, then turned to Lilly and Brock.

"Would you mind watching Jeremy for me while I'm in the meeting?" she asked.

"We'd be glad to," Brock replied. Kneeling down to the toddler's eye-level, he asked, "Would you like that, Jeremy?"

Jeremy shied away from him. Amelia gave him an encouraging nudge and he let go of her clothes sticking his thumb in his mouth and staring at the floor.

"Well," Brock prompted, "would you like to stay with us and have some fun?"

Jeremy pulled his thumb out of his mouth, looked at his hand for a moment and then held it out.

"I four years old," he said, holding up the appropriate number of fingers.

"Are you?" Lilly asked, amused by his cute remark.

Jeremy counted his fingers. "Yeah, four. I four years old."

"Come," the clerk urged, cutting off the building laughter. "We shouldn't delay the conclave any further."

Following the young man, the others descended the stairs into the basement storage room. Dimly lit and cluttered with sale items, the storage room seemed smaller than it really was.

"This way," the clerk said.

It was at that moment that Ash noticed the plain, wooden doorway at the back of the room. Even looking directly at it, the door was hard to notice, not because it was hidden, but because he felt compelled to ignore it. Only once the clerk opened the door did his mind finally accept it as being there.

The comfortably furnished antechamber was more brightly lit than the previous room. Traced with ancient symbols, the council chamber entrance radiated with defensive magic strongly enough that even Ash could feel its power.

"The Conclave awaits, masters," the clerk announced. "The rest of you will wait in here with me."

Before entering the chamber, Lotus pulled Ash to the side. Kneeling down to eye level, he put his hands firmly on the boy's shoulder. The urgency of his expression startled Ash into silence.

"Listen carefully," he said, his tone more serious than Ash had ever heard before. "You are about to be present in the council with every member of the Conclave. This is a privilege that few people even within the order have been granted. Aldaris is a good man, but he is also very strict. Mind your manners, don't speak unless you are asked and show them the utmost respect. If Aldaris has any reason to believe that you cannot be trusted with this responsibility . . ."

Lotus let the sentence hang, allowing Ash to fill in the blanks on his own. The young boy nodded in understanding, a hint of terror in his widely opened eyes.

"Good. Let's get to business then."

---

Dokoto sat protectively beside her bed when Misty awoke. Though the light seeping through the ivy vines seemed only like morning, it was about midday and the young girl felt groggy from oversleeping. She sat up and stretched her arms, yawning as she scratched the dog behind the ears. Dokoto grunted with pleasure, leaning his head on her lap. Continuing to scratch, Misty looked around the cave.

"So, where's your master?" she asked.

Dokoto barked softly and started panting. Misty smiled, patted the dog on the head and then pulled the blankets aside, climbing out of bed. Dokoto wandered to the other side of the cave and began pawing at the dirt. The young girl walked slowly toward the dog, her legs still a little unsteady. A few strips of dried meat rested on the floor along with a bowl of berries. Next to it, a message was scribbled onto the rock with a purple pulp, probably from the same berries in the bowl. She found it difficult to read the terrible, scrawling handwriting, but after a few moments, she pieced it together. Lupus had gone out hunting and left some food for her.

With a slight grin, she picked up a piece of meat. It reminded her of eating a piece of beef jerky as she tore the bite away, though its taste was somewhat drier. She then plucked a berry from the bowl and put it in her mouth. It was a little sour, but at least, she told herself, it had more flavor than the meat. She continued to eat her breakfast, tossing a piece of the meat to Dokoto.

The dog snapped it up before it hit the ground, chewing noisily for a moment. Swallowing, the dog started panting, its tongue flopping happily out of its mouth. Suddenly, the dog's ears perked up at the sound of the vines being pushed aside. Misty turned to greet Lupus, but gasped when she saw who entered.

"Lupus!" Jin'ei shouted. "Are you here?"

The esper's eyes widened when he noticed Misty. For a moment, the two stared at each other in shock.

"What are you doing here?" they both demanded.

Jin'ei regained his composure first. "That's simple enough," he replied, stroking his ear. "I've come to ask the hunter if he's completed his job yet."

"You hired him?" Misty asked.

"No," Jin'ei chuckled. "Lupus is not under my payroll, he's doing the job for free. All I did was point out the location of a certain sorcerer who lived nearby. Now, it's your turn. Why are you here?"

Misty kept silent in defiance, backing away from him. Dokoto stepped forward and growled at the intruder. Jin'ei looked down at the dog, removing his glasses, and stared into its eyes. The dog suddenly shied away, tucking its tail between its legs and whining in fear.

"Why are you here?" Jin'ei demanded again, clipping his glasses back into place. When Misty refused to speak, he took a step toward her. "Do you think your silence will change anything? I can sense that Cerebral is not in your possession, so I know one of your friends has it."

With a movement that was faster than Misty could see, Jin'ei stood next to her in an instant. Surprised, she stumbled backward and fell to the ground.

"I always get what I want," Jin'ei hissed. "I don't enjoy killing, but Cerebral will be mine and for that, one of your friends must die." He leaned down close to her face. "You don't have to die, however. If you stay out of my way, I'll have no reason to hurt you. If, on the other hand, you choose to interfere, I will make sure that you regret it."

Reaching out quickly, he plucked a strand of hair from Misty's head. Drawing his rapier, he held the hair up for her to see. Slowly, he brought his saber down on the strand, cleanly splitting it. Replacing the blade, he let Misty stare in horror for a moment, smiling cruelly, pleased by her reaction.

"Do you understand me?"

Misty glared at the madman obstinately. Swishing his cape back with dramatic bravado, Jin'ei rose to his full stature and stared back at her with an amused half-smile. Tauntingly, he flicked his hair back and turned to face Lupus as he entered, a startled gasp escaping him at the sight of the hunter's transmuted face.

A stantler hanging limply over his shoulder, Lupus strolled into the cave, passing the shocked Jin'ei and dropping the kill on the ground. Drawing a hunting knife from the sheath in his boot, he looked up at the esper coldly.

"What are you looking at?" he growled.

"Y-you startled me," Jin'ei stuttered.

With a derisive snort, Lupus replied, "I do that."

Kneeling down beside the fire pit, the hunter laid some kindling and struck a flint against his knife, lighting the tinder.

"Well?" Lupus demanded irritably. "What do you want?"

Jin'ei clenched his teeth, exerting all his willpower to hold back his anger. "I've come for a progress report."

Lupus stoked the fire, putting a bit more wood on it, and then rose to his feet. Jin'ei leaned back away from the hunter as he stared him down.

"I don't work for you," the hunter tersely reminded him. "I will kill the sorcerer, but I'll do it at my convenience, not yours." He turned to Misty. "Did he hurt you?"

Misty glared at Jin'ei, who returned the expression with equal ferocity, each testing the other's resolve. Misty thought for a moment to say yes, to let Lupus unleash his blade on the esper and be done with him, but Jin'ei's stare promised her death if she tried. No, not death. As unimaginable as it was, she felt death would desirable to the fate Jin'ei had in mind. But still . . .

No, she realized, she couldn't. She couldn't use Lupus like that; it would only hurt him more in the end.

"No," Misty answered, her voice cold as ice. "No, he didn't."

"Nor do I see a reason why I should have to," the esper added calmly, his words an evident threat. "I've nothing against her."

Lupus turned away from the psychic, stooping over his kill and splitting its belly. He carved a large piece of flesh from the animal's ribs and began shearing the skin off. Pausing for a moment, he glared at Jin'ei.

"Why are you still here?" he snarled.

Jin'ei hopped back defensively.

"Oh my, look at the time," he stuttered nervously. "I really must be going now."

Jin'ei disappeared instantly. With a satisfied grunt, Lupus cut the last bit of hide from the meat and skewered it on the spit. Placing it over the pit, Lupus began to cook it. He looked back at Dokoto.

"Take the rest out to the others," he ordered.

Gripping the deer's neck in its jaws, Dokoto dragged the carcass out of the cave. Lupus continued to turn the spit, letting out a lazy yawn and popping his neck. With a relieved sigh, Misty rose to her feet and stepped next to the hunter.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Lupus," he replied.

"No," Misty clarified, "I mean your real name. Or is Lupus your real name."

Lupus chuckled. "No. No, it isn't, it's . . ." he hesitated, staring absently at the wall, his voice shaky. "My name . . . my name is . . . I-I don't remember. It's been so long since I've thought about it."

Lupus sat down, probing his memory for the name of the person he had once been. He couldn't recall. It was as if it had been the life of someone else, someone he had known only briefly. As he continued to search his memories, he realized that he couldn't remember anything from his other life. Except for his wife and daughter, everything was gone. He was the hunter now, a beast who existed only to avenge the memory of two people who had once been cared for, and nothing more. Everything else had become unimportant.

Misty watched Lupus sadly. How much did it hurt? She couldn't fathom the level of pain that he must have felt. Sympathetically, she took hold of his hand.

"If you want, I can cook it," she offered.

"Do you know how?"

Misty scoffed. "My dad's taken me camping plenty of times. I know how to turn a spit."

Lupus let the young girl take over for him. "Thank you," he said. "I need to think for a bit."

---

Lupus trudged out of the cave into the daylight. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he stared up at the sky. The sky, the clouds, the forest; all had remained unchanged throughout the centuries, and until now, so had he. But now, for the first time, he began to question himself.

Did he really want this?

Turning away from his cave, he walked to the small clearing where the memorial of his family that he had built centuries ago rested; a stone marker encircled by a ring of red roses. No bodies lay beneath the soil of the marker. The churchyard where he buried his family had been torn up and built over ages ago. There had been no remains of the bodies by that time anyway, so he had set up that chunk of rock and planted his wife's favorite flowers. The roses grew back every spring, but his daughter's doll, which had once rested on the slab, had long since been lost to the elements and to natural decay.

Lupus slowly made his way to it, each step dragging on, weighted down by his heavy thoughts, until he kneeled down before it. The stone had crumbled by now, standing at only a quarter of its original size, the pebbles and dust that it had now become resting in the grass beside what remained. Laying his hand on the slab, it crumbled further under his touch. He drew back his hand quickly.

Even the stone had decayed. As he stared brokenly at the marker, he began to comprehend how long he had gone on. Even the stone had decayed! How he wished that decay would take him as well, wished that his body would rot away, his flesh devoured by worms and maggots.

But he would not. His fur would not shed with the proper seasons, nor would his skin blister and peel away when burnt. When cut, his wound would seal quickly, each bit pulling itself back to the place it had fallen from. His wounds left no scars, his broken bones would not mend crooked, no disease or poison could ever damage him. His body was the same body it had been when he first received it, down to every last cell.

How many people would think eternal life a gift? He was the very thing that countless men throughout the ages had desired. Would they still want it if they knew? What a sick, unnatural thing he was, as dead inside as he was alive outside.

Rage boiled within him, an uncontrollable hatred of the shell that kept him trapped in the mortal world. His rage broke into madness as he sank his own teeth viciously into his wrist, delighting in the feel of the blood rushing down his arm. Jerking his head back, he tore the flesh from the bone, stripping clear to the elbow. Without second thought, he bit at his knee, cracking bones and tearing tendons as he shook it viciously in his jaws.

The pain, agonizing as it was, filled him with a sick pleasure. A disgusted, euphoric, smile corrupted his face as he drew his sword and drove it into his gut, dragging it slowly across. Acid from his stomach burned inside him and he reveled in the heat of it. Drawing back his sword, he slit open his throat, breathing his blood into his lungs, then began stabbing his chest repeatedly, the blade unable to find his heart because of his trembling body.

To his dread, he glanced down and saw the skin of his arm beginning to heal; fuel on the fire. Crying out defiantly, he hacked at it several times, his blade cutting roughly through flesh, muscle and bone until the limb was at last severed. Nothing. His arm hung where it was, as if being held in place by some invisible threads while his flesh continued to role back into place. Blood oozed profusely from the cut, but even as it was beginning to drip away, it bubbled up and began flowing back into his arm. He dropped his sword, desperately tugging at his severed limb, even tearing at it with his fangs.

Infuriated by his limb's stubborn refusal to come off, he turned and rushed to the edge of the clearing. He bashed his head against a tree, its splinters digging into his face. Unfazed, he smashed his head again and again, beating it more furiously each time, until his own skull cracked open. Leaning back away from the tree, a horrendous grin still twisting his face, he pressed his hands against the wound, feeling the blood oozing out. As consciousness slowly drifted away from him, he glared down at his crimson drenched hand, rejoicing in the pleasure of the pain. In that last moment before his sight faded away, he grasped hold of his sanity once again, realizing the horror of his own actions. With a sickened groan, he fell forward against the tree, tears flowing freely from his eyes. A merciful blackness took him and he knew nothing more.