Authoress' note: Thank you for reading this far into the story, and I want to say thanks too all of you who review. Much thanks!! -, gotta luv these smilies!! (Laughs) Well, enjoy, and I hope you're enjoying this!
Eamon just groaned as he did his best to keep from swearing. Of course, it seemed just like fate that of all the boats he had to board, it would be on full of people intent on killing him, and now his partner, Christopher.
"The only person to be leaving in any box will be you and your foolish comrades," Christopher replied as Eamon quickly pulled out the only weapon on him at the time, a small dagger.
"Oh, so the young conjurer thinks she can take us on, when her partner only has a knife?" the rich man replied in his smooth drawl.
"He can fight very well by himself, and I suggest that you stop calling me Conjurer, as I do have a name!" she replied and Eamon stepped back as fire erupted from her hands and twined up her arms like mystical snakes of scorching fire.
"So the lady will fight while her partner will watch, what an age we live in," he smirked back. Eamon recognized that smirk, and in an instant knew who he was.
"Rael, what are you doing here?!?" Eamon demanded and Christopher shot a glance at him. His face held the look one might get if an old, dead friend suddenly appeared in front of you as some kind of vindictive apparition.
"Ah, Eamon, you have another assistant, it would be as shame to have to kill her too, she's quite easy on the eyes," he replied, his face still holding an arrogant smirk.
The young man, Rael, was slightly taller then the rest of the sailors crowded around behind him, making him also taller than Eamon, with a shock of white blonde hair that fell neatly around his pale face, parted at the left. But his hair was soon whipped into a frenzy as the boat started to accelerate, as it cut through the sea vigorously with renewed energy.
Christopher steadied herself as the floor began to vibrate hard as the engine was forced into overdrive, the propellers pushing the giant vessel through the water with surprising momentum.
"So, you don't want me to call you Conjurer, then what should I call you… freak?" Rael replied, smirking at her. She bit her lip as she felt the urge to hurt him boil up in her, like hot wax, and she resisted it as it came close to consuming her, that rage at that word.
"You will do good not to speak to my assistant like that!" Eamon replied, spitting at the young man dressed in a long black overcoat.
"And why?" He replied, pulling the elegant rapier out of its sheath, as he leveled at Eamon.
"Eamon, what do you want me to do?" Christopher asked silently, looking at her partner with sad eyes.
"Take on the sailors, I will handle Rael," he replied as he moved forward. She nodded her head and looked at the sailors who began to advance, moving slowly and in unison, their boot covered feet pounding the steel floor as Christopher moved forward gracefully, the fire twining slowly up her arms, the warmth washing over her like boiling water.
"So, this pretty gal thinks she can take us on?" one of the sailors asked smirking at the large man next to him who guffawed back. Christopher scowled at the group of gruff men, who just sneered back.
"I think this gal will be beaten by ma' little finger," his partner replied with a rough voice. They chuckled at her, and the rest of their comrades joined in, the chilly air becoming filled with the gravelly sound of their laughter.
Christopher just smirked, she had taken on morons like these and she hand no problem taking care of them and their lives. She quickly gauged just how many of them there were, and her final count was 72. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there was little chance she could take them all, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.
She felt deep inside herself, and felt for the warmth of the astral lines, and there, just in reach, there it was. Gently, she tugged it, drawing strength from it, and sent it to the fire flowing around her arms. She could feel the humans pull away and she just smirked.
"You are all going to regret this," she muttered, as she slowly opened her eyes, gazing at them through her dark lashes. They drew back slightly from the girl, and while she was small and scrawny, the fire winding up her arms was enough to scare them alone. All they were armed with were metal poles… she had fire, and that could do a great deal more damage.
She slowly raised her hands up at them and the fire quickly wound off her arms, curled around her hands, then quickly jabbed across the gap between her and the men, scorching the first 20 men, who screamed at the inferno engulfed them.
Eamon shot a glance to his left as heard screams of pain. A large group of men were engulfed in an orange blaze, and the rest drawing away as Christopher conjured more flames, as the wrapped around her arms and all over her body. He could see the girl's face was calm, and as still as stone, her eyes closed in thought.
"Right, she seems to have that covered, how about you just leave us alone, Rael?" he asked, taking a glace at the young man in front of him, take a defensive stance, his hands raised, his left hand grasping the dagger, his other held rigid.
"Now, now, I have no qualms with you; I have qualms with who you used to be," Rael replied smoothly, swinging the sword expertly in his hands. Eamon just scowled at him.
"What are you talking about, Rael?" he asked, staring at the young man, who just smiled coolly back at him, his long, slim body was covered in luxurious black cloth from head to toe, the long jacket just brushing the floor.
"Do you even remember?" the blonde replied casually, smirking at Eamon with his icy blue eyes.
"Of course I remember," he snarled back as Rael darted forward in a blur of black. Eamon did his best to dodge and he felt the steel tip of the rapier slice in the skin on his cheek. His warm blood dribbled down his cheek, slowly dripping off his chin and onto his clean shirt.
Rael just smirked, licking the slight smear of blood off the tip of his blade, letting the ruby drops slowly hit the light, and then gently fall onto his tongue. He gently licked his soft lips, and just smiled at Eamon. It was a sight to see, the two men fighting. While Rael appeared like an angel, spun silver hair and pale skin with sapphire eyes, and dressed impeccably in fine black cloth, Eamon was dressed in casual brown leather; his face was tanned and smeared with dirt while his messy hair was an aggressive red. He was chaotic, along with his clothing, and his eyes were a vivid green. They were quite different, one messy, the other clean, one seeming human, and the other too perfect to be real.
"Rael, you are treaded on dangerous territory," Eamon muttered, wiping the blood off of his cheek with the back of his hand, the dagger's blade glinting in the sun.
"Eamon!" Christopher's voice cut through the blur of thoughts filling Eamon's mind.
"What is it, I'm a little busy," he called back as he dodged another blow from Rael.
"These things aren't human!!" she called back and he cast a quick glance at where Christopher was now attempting to fight off a mass of black, charred human shaped figures as the moaned and started to swarm upon her. She was swinging her fire wreathed arms at the charred things that were once sailors.
"What!?!" Eamon cried out as he blocked another blow from the elegant sword's blade with his dagger's sharp edge. The sound of clashing steel filled the frigid air, the loud noise being swept roughly around by the wind to reach all over the deck.
"They won't die! I'm guessing their souls are bound to their body," she replied as one of the black figures reached out with what was a hand and tore at her dress, ripping her right sleeve roughly, the seams tearing, as it now hung limply, attached by barely a stitch.
"Rael, you monster, you did this!" Eamon screamed as he quickly darted forward, slicing at the pale young man, cutting deep into his well built chest.
"Of course, better to serve me then serve Him," Rael replied, smirking at him as he placed hand on the deep cut, letting the blood trickle in-between his fingers and dribble down his hands, curling around his knuckles.
"You fiend! To think you were an angel!!" he shrieked as their weapons clashed again. They met quickly, heralded in a clash of steel, to only part a second later, quickly leaping away, and landing gracefully on the steel floor. To anyone who watched it appeared like a dance, a deadly dance that was kept in rhythm by the clanging of steel and the sounds of their boots pounding the floor. There was no music except the occasional scream of pain as the steel bit deep into the flesh of one of the two. One was a blur of white and black, the other red and brown. It was a sight to see. Like two titans of old battling it out for the world.
"Well, Eamon, I have seen how weak you have become, if you even want to even think of beating me, I suggest you remember who you are, Israfel," and in a sudden flurry of white feathers, Rael disappeared, the feathers scattering to the winds.
"Bloody Hell, who kill a bird?" Eamon heard Christopher exclaim, making him smile slightly, but he soon regretted it as when he did, he only caused his split lip to tear open a bit more, sending a fresh wave of warm blood down his chin.
Eamon quickly made his way to meet the young woman as she fought the burned mass with slowly decreasing vigor. Her arms were cut and bleeding along with her face and torso, long scraps of her dress's cloth littering the gray deck. He could see ash streaks mar her skin, and beads of sweat drip down her face, smearing the cinders as it rolled off her chin, dripping onto her bodice.
She licked her dry and cracking lips, attempting to moisten them as she felt deep inside her again for the astral lines and she weakly grabbed a small strand, forcing it to fuel the fire, as it seemed to have the best affect against the things.
"Eamon, would you mind helping me out!?!"
"Coming, my are you impatient!" he replied, still cocky and he took a running leap off of a large pile of crates, landing next to the young girl.
"Would you help me out, I assume that you know the incantation?" she asked, letting the fire die, as she decided to save the last bit of energy she still possessed.
"Of course, shall we begin?" he replied, taking a hold of her rough hand.
"Everto sent ex Abyssus may Olympus ira adveho down super vestri caput capitis. Amen!" they cried out. Eamon did nothing but speak, but he felt his energy leaving his quickly as the words poured out of his mouth, the magic infused with each word burning his lips and tongue, sending the copper taste of blood into in mouth.
But Christopher soon dropped to her knees, as she weakly grasped onto a few small strands of the astral power and infused them with her words. They burned as they left her mouth and began to wrap around the charred bodies advancing on them. And as they spoke the last final word of the incantation, she focused all of her strength in grabbing the most astral power she could, and she felt the invisible lines cut and burn into her palms. She resisted the urge to scream out in pain as her vision blurred and then went dark. Her strength spent, she collapsed on the floor as the bodies dissolved into dust, their spirits joining the astral rivers that flowed in the sky while their ashes were blown away by the strong breeze, whipped around by small eddies.
Eamon felt Christopher's hand leave his, surprisingly cold, and he heard the sound of her body hit the metal floor. He quickly turned to look at her. She laid curled slightly, her bloody, burned hands outstretched still, as though she was still reaching for the astral lines. Her lips were cracked, blood dripping off of them, the edges burned black and dry. Tears were still hanging off her closed lashes and they trembled with each shudder the floor gave as he stepped forward, threatening to fall.
He placed a hand on her forehead and was surprised to find it icy cold, as if she had fallen into death, though she still breathed. Her strength, energy and spirit spent, he gently picked her up and cradled her close to him as he licked his own dry, burned lips.
Indeed, she was strong, most people her age could not conjurer that much astral energy without dying, or being consumed, becoming nothing more then an empty portal for the energy to flow, their souls disintegrated into nothingness. He gently laid her on the crate, the wind whipping at her form. He looked up to the bow to see that he could already see land as the ship barreled forward, oblivious of the battle just fought.
He just stood there, letting the wind hit his face, sending ice down his bloodstream, and he just stared up at the sky, and sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging.
"So, Rael, you have come, just for me…" he muttered, pulled his jacket closer around his body, and then proceeded to bandage his companion's burned, cut, and beaten form.
-Gosh, sorry this is so long, but c'est la vie. And yes, there is more latin, well, enjoy! And bye… oh and please review.