Chasing the Girl
The Sea of Sand was a desert wasteland in the heart of Delta, three days ride from Mac Anu if you rode without rest, six if you did. Here not many survived the scorching sun and the bloodthirsty monsters that made their home in the numerous sandstorms. The first thing Kite noted was the lack of these monsters, though there was an insane large number of carcasses piled on the sand hills, giving the humid air the smell of decomposing flesh. There was a fair few human cadavers as well, though not nearly enough to out number the monsters.
"Pleasant," said Blackrose sarcastically, her hand pressed against her mouth and nose to block out the horrid smell.
"It's got to be that plague Balmung mentioned," said Kite, feeling like he was going to be sick, "Except these monsters seemed to have . . . not adapted well to the virus." Whilst Blackrose was cool with her meager amount of clothing, Kite's clothing had little protection against the heat. His head swam, threatening for him to collapse. Snowfall was little better, the heavy breathing of the stallion matching that of its rider.
Blackrose's red eyes flickered towards the thief. She alone seemed immune to the unforgiving heat. "I'm guessing Lambda's very cool, with all those forests."
"We have our fair share of desert land, though it's far away from Carmina Gadelica."
She eyed him warily. "As a . . . thief, I'm guessing you haven't ventured far from that city, have you?"
"I've been to Delta before, when I was about eleven. My mother had it in mind to steal the Opal of Krake. She told me to look for anything of interest. Well, I found one of the Descendents of Fianna."
Blackrose blinked, puzzled. "Fianna?" He looked at her strangely. "You know, Fianna, the Queen of Peace. She sealed away the four demons and her two apprentices were Orca of the Azure Sea, and Balmung of the Azure Sky."
"And you know one of them?"
"Yeah, Orca. He helped me escape from a group of soldiers after taking a Black Magic book. This was before he became world-famous, just well known as one of the great lady's apprentices. He was really shocked when he found out I was a member of the Crimson Deaths." He laughed and Blackrose smiled slightly, though both had to avert their gaze and shield their mouths and noses from a Deadly Moth's carcass. The large insect's gossamer wings gave off a pale yellow poison that was almost indistinguishable from pollen. The moth used that poison to immobilize its pray in feeding, and when the creature was dead, that poison's smell made rotten eggs and half decomposed flesh smell like cake.
As soon as they pass over a hill, they spotted a group of people on horseback across the sand. All wore similar clothing, light cloth and turbans. Wicked looking falchions were at their sides and what appeared to be the leader of the group, a tall man with a scarf around his mouth and glittering coffee colored eyes, turned towards them and rode up.
"You there!" cried the leader, his eyes blazing and a hand moving towards his sword. His accent revealed that he was of the Desert Clan, one of the few nomadic tribes who still worshiped the pagan gods; a thick, molasses of a voice really. Blackrose's hand moved towards her own sword but Kite shot her a warning look before speaking.
"We are not of Ito's men; we come seeking a dungeon where a white girl was spotted."
The man chuckled and removed his scarf, revealing a firmly detailed face with skin the color of a pecan shell and a square jaw. Black markings were below his eyes, giving him a mystical, shaman-type look. "You'd be the second and third people we sent there," he said with a deep laugh, "What be your reason?"
"Our reason is our own," snapped Blackrose, not removing her hand from the sword's golden hilt.
"Ah, you be this young man's wife?" asked the pagan, eyes sparkling in the rich sunlight. Both flushed red and the islander violently shook her head. The man pointed down into a canyon where it appeared a large, man made creature sat, and its mouth open. It had the vague shape of a dragon, its sides actually moving as it breathed, even though the outsides were actually made of stone scales. Kite felt his stomach churn, starring at one of the many creatures brought to life by Wavemaster magic.
"You're kidding me, right?" asked Blackrose, turning to the man, who laughed again.
"That is Yarthkin's Tomb, the resting place of our lord's demonic pet. I bide thee a safe journey, for you may encounter Ito's servant. May the sand bring you shelter in the storms of night." He turned to his party and gave a yell of something in his language before tying his scarf back in place. They were off in a blaze of sand.
Blackrose gave a furious sigh and turned to Kite, who was more disturbed by the news of the king's men inside. Perhaps they were searching for the girl as well? "Merrows help us . . ." He gave her a look with a raised eyebrow.
"You're pagan?" he asked, surprised slightly. It was not as though he were prejudice against them, it was just he had never been in close contact with one who did not believe in the Twilight Dragon.
"The mainlanders beliefs is sacrilegious to the Gods," she said bitterly. He did not answer her and she continued. "I mean, when you look at the mainlanders religion . . . who ever heard of sprites being destroyed? We are superior over humans."
Kite bit his tongue to fight back an insult. The heat was near unbearable and he was eager to get inside that cave, even if it meant enduring Blackrose snap about humans and mainlanders. Digging his heels into Snowfall's flank, the tired stallion trotted off in the direction of the tomb.
The inside was pleasantly cool, though disgusting. The mouth of the creature, the room they had just entered, was covered in saliva and its stationery tongue was unpleasantly rubbery. It was a good thing there was no smell, however. With a pleased sigh, Kite tied Snowfall's reigns to one of the ivory spikes inside. What surprised them was the presence of a third horse, its coat white like Snowfall's, though its eyes were a strange golden-blue. It was of Simga origin, clearly told from the embroidery on the saddle blanket tossed upon its back and its eyes. It neighed loudly, glaring at them as they tied Woodfall and Snowfall to the spike. Their water supply, replenished by Blackrose's magic, was enough to keep the horses fit.
The horses were tough, but not enough to stand the outrageous heat. Orca's Theta stallion gave a heavy snort, pleased to get out from the heat. Blackrose muttered something in her language to Woodfall, and the horse instantly quieted. He saw, with further flush, that her tan body glistened with sweat, making her seem less modest. She unsheathed her broadsword her eyes flickered to the corner of the room.
"By the Gods . . ." Three guards lay slumped on the ground, their faces blistered beyond recognition by electrical burns. Their bodies gave no smell at a distance, as one would expect, but at closer range their burned flesh made his stomach retreat into his throat and made Blackrose spill hers in the corner. For a warrioress with magical skills, she had a weak stomach.
"You okay?" he asked softly when she got back to her feet, the color in her face receding in blotches. She narrowed her eyes and did not respond after a while. Her voice was hoarse when she did speak, leaning on her sword like one would do with a cane. "Let's get this over with; this place gives me the creeps."
He nodded gently and drew a dagger from the scabbard at his side. They walked down a flight of stairs, which was fashioned from the creature's throat. It was eerie, to think of such things, but they went onwards. Three rooms from the stairs, a pair of yellow eyes peered from a dark corner and their owner lunged for Blackrose. The monster had a vague man-like shape with pale skin, dark gray hair that defied gravity and a face marked with a sprite's designs, its body clad in indigo and golden armor. One hand clutched a short sword, the other clasped around a shield. It was distinguishable as a monster by the wickedly sharp, goat-like horns on its head and its blood red eyes.
She screeched like a banshee and swung her sword in a high arch. It missed the Swordmanoid by a mile, Kite's cheek by an inch. He withdrew his second dagger and dug it into a break in the creature's armor. Black blood dribbled down the plates and Blackrose raised a hand, her face scared and her hand trembling. A pentacle appeared in the air in front of her as she cried, "Vak Rom!"
He had to dodge a tornado of flames that consumed the monster. It let out a screech of pain and collapsed on the ground, the flesh burned and the body covered in the ebony blood. Blackrose was breathing heavily and her wine colored eyes were glossy with tears. Pulling his dagger from the Swordmanoid's back, he turned back to Blackrose. "Are you okay?"
"I'm sorry," she said in a whisper, "I should have told you."
"Told me what?" Her gaze lost its sorrowful quality and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. "You are dense, boy! You didn't see me wimp out?"
"It scared you, so what? Everyone gets scared once and a while."
"No, it's . . . I'm not a master swordswoman. I was an apprentice back home."
"Then why'd you lie?" he asked softly. In true, he had suspected it from the beginning. Why would a master swordswoman need a bodyguard to accompany her to a cathedral? It didn't make sense.
Her glare silenced him, but when she spoke, her voice sounded gentle. "You're not mad?"
"Not really, I'm used to liars. I'm a thief, remember?" She smiled slightly. The next few rooms were deserted of life, though there were numerous empty eggshells littering the flesh. It was disgustingly eerie.
A little further down, they came across a delicately carved treasure chest placed between two serpentine dragon statues. Kite's eyes glittered, he could practically smell the treasure inside. "Hang on a second," he said to Blackrose, and her eyes narrowed slightly. She clearly did not like having to wait for a thief.
Shifting both his daggers into his left hand, he kicked the chest open. The inside was clean and inside were about a half dozen, fist sized bottles filled with a thick, crimson liquid. His eyes brightened. "Excellent! Burning Oil," he said with a grin
"Please, you're impressed by this?" She said, watching as he shut the trunk and proceeded to drag it with them. The contents were not heavy at all, but the trunk was mildly heavy. It was a good thing that they were nearing the belly of the beast, for the air was thicker and the saliva heavier.
More monsters were in the bottom chambers, including living Deadly Moths. They were large, dragonfly like beings and their abdomens were colored purple, black and yellow. Three ambushed the twosome, their poison hovering like clouds in the air. Holding his breath and leaving the trunk aside, he flung his dagger into one's wing, crippling it. Its black blood fell to the floor. Though it lacked a mouth, its body writhed in pain and a cloud of its poison fluttered around his mouth.
Having to breathe through his nose, he inhaled a fair amount. Coughing and sneezing horribly, he tried furiously to get out the powder. Blackrose's sword cut the head of a second and she flung the sword downward towards the final. It missed and its claw hit her exposed stomach. It cut through the flesh, drawing blood. She cried out the fire tornado's spell again and its thin flesh crumbled to ash instantly. Hacking horribly, he flung his dagger into the head of the Deadly Mouth and it fell to the ground, dead in a second.
Her hand pressed to her mouth due to the poison, she turned to him. "Merrows, you inhaled that crap?" she snapped, "Idiot!"
He scowled. "Not my choice." His head was swimming as the poison worked its toxin in his lungs. White dots were at the edges of his vision, leaving the ominous threat that he would fall unconscious again. She held her hand towards his head and whispered, "Rip Teyn."
His mind returned to normal, as did his breathing. "Thank you." He said, grabbing the trunk. "There's only a few rooms left, I think, if this isn't the last."
She ignored him for a moment before speaking, and that was a healing spell that mended the wound on her stomach. Taking a firmer grip on her sword, they walked along the hall of the creature. The floor was getting slicker, the walls dripping with saliva. Sliding down a set of stairs, their eyes met a strange and unwanted sight.
A chamber entrance was marked by strange purple gas. It hovered around the door like fire, but it gave off neither heat nor smell. Letting go of the trunk, he felt his heart churn. Something was behind that door, and he had a feeling it may be the pale girl. A flicker of pain was at the wrist where the glass bracelet had appeared and he gave a grimace. Was this a sign from the ghostly girl in white? Blackrose was walking towards the entrance and he followed.
The room was devoid of moisture, the fleshy walls a dull gray. Peeling bits revealed the creature's mussel system, some parts so thin the gray bone was visible. A monster was inside the lifeless room, exactly the same as the one that dwelt within the cathedral. The Headhunter turned its headless body towards them and it moved, scales clinking like armor.
"Vak Rom!" bellowed Blackrose and her magical flames did nothing to the creature. Kite ran forward, his twin daggers ready. "Saber Dance!" Although the Crimson Deaths did not use magic, physical attacks were high in demand.
The slashing blades merely scratched the creature's scales and even then the scratches instantly healed. "Twilight Dragon help us . . ." The memory of the impossible creature flashed inside his head, and Balmung's ominous threat still lingered in the still air. Grinding his teeth, Kite drove one dagger into the Headhunter's skull, which was clasped in its hand.
If this being were anything similar to the Headless Kings and Headhunt Lords of Lambda, the skulls within their hands gave them dark power. However, the Headhunter turned simply to Kite and with a sweep of its sword, knocked the thief backwards. He hit the ground painfully, one dagger sliding away. Blackrose ran forward, swinging her sword viciously and her face was livid. It clanged against the scales of the monster, who flung its sword across her stomach, where the Deadly Moth had so recently sliced her. The blade bit deep into her skin and she screamed, tears filling her eyes in instants. "Reapth," she sobbed, the wound healing somewhat and she flung the blade again, creating an echoing clang.
Kite got to his feet shakily. He tasted blood in his mouth and he hurried forward to pick up his dropped blade. His attention turned to the Headhunter and, darting forward, he tried to slide his blade in between the scales. The Headhunter's sightless gaze turned back to him and its blade nearly cleaved his head off. With years of agility born from stealing, Kite missed and managed to dig his blade through two scales. The creature did not even move, but its attention was completely onto Kite so that it could not dodge the tornado of fire Blackrose summoned. It finally flinched and something green spread across its body. It was like another layer of scales had appeared over the Headhunter and then suddenly shattered, falling to the ground and disappearing.
Kite felt pain rise up in his arm as the bracelet appeared on his wrist with the sound of cracking bone. There was a white light that blinded his vision and the pain intensified, his body moving on its own. Squinting through the light, he saw that the Headhunter was being eaten away by some unseen force. Finally, he heard his own voice yell something, though he made to say not a word. "Soul Drain!"
There was more pain that laced its way through his body. Power ran through his mussel system and escaped in beam form from his palm. It hit the creature and the Headhunter fell backwards. The light vanished and he fell to his knees, the bracelet flickering and disappearing from his wrist.
Something was clutched in his hand and, as he pulled it open, saw that a small object lay in his palm. It was circular and perfectly clear, inscribed with the character for the letter 'C', near identical to the small item Kite had gotten from the Headhunter's soul in the cathedral. He pocketed the strange object and stood.
Blackrose run forward, focusing her fire magic though her sword so the broadsword became alight with flickering flames. She thrust it forwards, right through the creature's stomach and it crumpled as the flames upon her sword died. She wrenched it free from the creature's body and looked over to Kite.
"You alright?" He nodded, head swimming slightly. "Just a little light headed," he confessed, turning to the Headhunter and wrenching his daggers from it. They were free of blood, which disturbed him. The silence was broken by a shrill female voice; a voice that he thought could have shattered glass had it been any higher pitched.
"Wow, that was amazing!"
Both sets of eyes, one red and the other blue, turned towards the entrance of the room and fell upon a young woman of about nineteen or so. Her hair was pink, like Blackrose's, but whilst the swordswoman's hair was pale, petal pink, this girl's was darker, her eyes a mix of red and pink. Her head was hidden under a large, white, gold and blue hat with long tassels off of the sides. She wore clothing of pale blue and white, a pair of baggy pants and a long sleeved shirt under a shawl. Her feet were clad in odd slippers, her hands gloved in black. Her shirt had a high color, bright gold ribbon tied around her waist. Clutched in her hand was a long, golden staff with a horizontal ring at the tip, attached to that was a vertical design with an ornate, magical seal inside. Her face was round and joyful, eyes glimmering brightly.
Now that he thought of it, her voice sounded like it had a Sigma accent, though it was very faint. Her grin widened as she hurried towards them, tripping over her foot once. She laughed loudly, rubbing the back of her head. "Whoops, I'm a little clumsy!"
"Who are you?" asked Blackrose darkly. The mysterious woman, or Wavemaster as he could tell by her staff, smiled even wider and she tipped her hat. "The name's Mistral, relic hunting my game! I'm a collector of sorts."
"A thief?" asked Blackrose, eyeing Kite. Mistral laughed louder. "Nope, nope, nope! I collect items, not steal them. Stealing is dishonest!"
Now her cheery eyes flickered towards Kite. "I can't believe that skill of yours! You defeated that monster by stealing its soul! My teacher never mentioned ANYTHING like that!"
"It's difficult to explain," he said with a sigh. She grinned even wider. "That's no problem, no problem at all! Mistral the Hunter has all the time in the world! Hey, you are travelers, aren't you?"
Kite could see a vein flickering in Blackrose's temple, her teeth grit. Kite placed a hand on her shoulder in the vain attempt to calm her down. She shrugged off his touch. "Yes, I suppose we are," said Blackrose coldly. Mistral was unfazed, in fact she twirled her staff dramatically and slammed the bottom of the staff on the ground.
"Then a Wavemaster's magic will be helpful! I will accompany you from this day forth!"
"Any reason?" asked Kite and she giggled. "Better to travel in a pack then alone! I'd be nice to be with people like you!"
He smiled. "Thank you, Mistral, but would you like to accompany a thief from a Lambda bandit tribe?"
Her expression faltered for a second but she hitched it back. "A member of the Crimson Death's?" He nodded. "Wow! You MUST be skilled! You know what they say, where there's a thief, there's treasure!" Although he'd never heard the saying before, he nodded his head. Her eyes glimmered happily as if Kite had made all her dreams come true at once. He laughed, though Blackrose did not.
Mistral followed them, continually insisting Kite tell her about the bracelet. Wishing he had a choice not to, he did explain and her face brightened even more. "Wow, wow! That must be some girl! She must be a messenger of the Twilight Dragon! You know, a prophet or even a physical embodiment!" Mistral squealed loudly and excitedly.
He was not the firmest follower of religion, so he honestly didn't believe in that. Blackrose's gaze flickered back to Kite. "Who knows, maybe the Wavemaster's correct. She could be a cleric, or even a demi-goddess."
The further rooms of the dungeon were as bleak and decomposed as the Headhunter's layer. Even worse did the smell come that Mistral waved her hand in front of her face, trying to swat the smell away. "Phew! Smells like-"
"Something died," supplied Blackrose lamely, sword swung over her shoulder. The final chamber of the dungeon contained a chest in front of a hovering statue, this one of a woman surrounded by a star. Mistral ran forward and heaved the chest open. "Success! Mistral the Hunter's treasure sniffing ability never fails!"
From the chest she pulled out a yellow bandana, embroidered in black thread was a wild cat, probably a cougar. Surrounding it were arcane symbols of magic. Also she held a small icon, shaped a Grunty, made of iron and also in her hand was a sheet of yellow metal. "These'll fetch a wonderful price! Ol' Mistral will make us all rich, rich, rich!"
Kite smiled, though Blackrose scowled. They made their way back from the dungeon, Mistral clutching her treasure tightly and Kite dragging his trunk of Burning Oil. Blackrose looked disgusted with the two of them.
Back in the entrance chamber, Mistral pointed out the soldiers' dead bodies. "The king's men get worse and worse! They tried to harass me! But I took care of them, alright!" It seemed disturbing that she'd prided herself upon their gruesome deaths and neither Blackrose nor Kite merited that with a response.
While he emptied the contents of the trunk into Snowfall's saddlebag, Mistral moved towards the unknown horse. "Isn't she pretty?" asked the red haired Wavemaster, "The name's Psi! She's Sigma breed, and a parting gift from my master!"
"Snowfall's from Theta," said Kite simply, stroking Snowfall's white mane. Mistral's eyes went wide as the stallion tossed its head back proudly. "WOW! How much did she cost!"
"He, and he's a friend's. I'm just borrowing him for a while."
"Or did you steal him?" asked Mistral slyly. Kite's stomach squirmed. "No, borrowing," he said clearly, "The Crimson Deaths don't steal animals."
"How humane! It seems thieves do have morals!"
"Twisted ones," muttered Blackrose but only Kite seemed to catch it. He grinned at her.
Mistral climbed onto Psi's saddle, her staff slipped into a holster near the bridle, and Blackrose did similar to Woodfall. With the three ready, they road off, Kite's mind reflecting on the sadness he felt that the girl was not there.
The Dark Flame tavern was empty again, and Alicia was angrily counting the meager amount of gold pieces she had received for the day's service. In a few days, the taxman would come and she didn't have enough to pay the cost of keeping the inn alive. Running her fingers through her silky hair, she picked up the bottle of rum she had been drinking from and took a swig.
"That's going to kill your health." She jumped, spitting out the alcohol and turning towards the door. It had opened without sound, revealing three travel worn people. Kite and Blackrose where there, along with a white and blue clad woman clutching a golden staff. Blackrose looked ready to wrench out her hair, which was filled with sand, her eyes slightly bloodshot and irritated. Her armor creaked horribly when she moved, sand clearly caught in the pieces despite her cloak. Kite and the mysterious woman were similar, though wearing a hat had certainly kept out the sand. The woman's grin fled her cheery face.
"Depressed much?" she asked calmly.
Alicia's gaze narrowed. "Who are you?" demanded the barmaid, scooting over towards her sword.
"Mistral the Treasure Hunter, at your service!" Her mad grin was back in place. Kite elaborated. "She's a friend of ours." Alicia gave a thin lipped smile, leaning her elbow on the bar. "Bad news, I need money and I need it fast. Sorry kid, you need to give me your rent."
Mistral hurried towards Alicia and from an inner pocket of her robes pulled out a fat money sack. Emptying it on the counter, Alicia's blue gaze widened quickly as Mistral, smiling, said, "How much?" Mistral was filthy rich, the large pile at least ten times the size Kite carried. It was almost suicide to carry around that much money, but the Wavemaster appeared to have a ton of confidence that she would not be robbed.
Kite smiled, even Blackrose forced a grin. As Mistral counted out the money for their rent, Alicia picked up something from under the bar. "By the way, Kite, this arrived for you this morning." She held out a letter sealed together by white wax and an emblem of a curved serpent. "A man in black. He had a whimsical speech, called himself Bith."
Breaking open the letter, he scanned it quickly and his eyes widened. "What is it?" asked Blackrose, Mistral and Alicia leaning over.
"It's from someone named Helba," he said slowly, "And, she knows about my bracelet."
I do not own .hack, Bandai does. I own the gist of this story.
Please review.