Knight in Green Armor
The scene before his eyes was blank and empty, but dramatic in its own right. The endless sky above him constantly shifted between the dark of night, the light of day and the hazy grey of dawn. The weather was ever changing so that in a second the rain would turn to snow, then the snow would melt as the sun emerged and then the winds would pick up as the sudden night flared into existence.
Kite's blue eyes flickered around this empty land, gripping the hilts of his daggers so tightly he felt the metal through the leather of his gloves. His body moved upon its own accord, his mind only dimly aware of where he was. The darkness was lifting again and snow began to fall. A soft voice, speaking in a language not known to the continent in its present day, was drifting across the now still air. He recognized the gentle, yet melancholic, dialect as belonging to the phantom girl in white.
He turned around, his eyes falling upon her small form, which was still hovering in the air. The sudden snow clung to her white hair, and her now visible arms were held to her heart. She appeared to be singing softly, her eyes closed as silent tears dribbled down her albino pale cheeks. Her dress with the rainbow hem floated around her thin body and she took no notice of his presence, simply singing her sad song. If he had to place it in a genre, he would have called it a requiem.
He moved closer to her and asked a question that had been eating at his insides ever since he had first seen her. Who are you?' The girl's song died suddenly in her throat, her mouth still agape and, slowly, her blue eyes opened. They seemed to pierce the marrow in his bones and all he could do was stare within her irises. There was silence for a long time, and the snow was replaced with it a maelstrom of wind and rain.
Finally the girl spoke, but it was not in a language he knew. It was the same tongue she sang in; her words were smooth and sounded like silk morphed into words. He couldn't tell where one word ended and the second began. Her voice died away at the end of her message and her eyes closed again, more tears dripping down her face, though they were impossible to distinguish from the droplets of rain on her cheeks.
'What do you mean!' he yelled. One had to strain to hear his voice because of the howling winds. He knew she could speak in the common tongue, she did so to Orca. The girl's eyes fluttered open, her words soft but distinguishable.
'To the one who holds the book, Skeith is looking for me. There is no time. Please. Help me.'
'Skeith? That monster with the wand?' he yelled back but her form was beginning to dissolve her face and body fading into the shadows. 'NO! Tell me your name!'
A single word fluttered into existence, but it was again in her silken tongue. It did, however, have a similar sound to a word in the common language for the continent's inhabitants. Completely gone, Kite could only stare at where the girl's face had once been.
'Aura, is that your name?' he whispered, still staring at where her face had been moments ago.
The scene flickered and changed, shadows morphed into figures and objects. Where there was once a field, there was now a stone dungeon. People were crowed inside, the majority of them dagger wielders, though there was one or two men with long blades and an even smaller minority with axes or lances. They all stood on the tips of their toes to see the center of the room. Kite knew, by the excited faces of the majority of the Crimson Deaths, that they wanted him gone. A female leader like Bell was easier to manipulate and control then a leader like himself. A few smiling faces looked out at him, but their eyes were masked by vain hope, their smiles those of sympathy rather then true mirth.
In the center of the room was a woman, tan-skinned, somewhere between the ages fifteen and seventeen. Her viridian hair was pulled into a knot at the back of her head, her lavender eyes flashing in a horrible happiness. She had an indigo crescent moon through her left eye, long knives with elaborate hilts strapped to her thighs. Her clothing consisted of a pair of formfitting shorts, a long sleeved shirt with bell-like sleeves that hid her short fingers. Her long boots were made with a slick material recognized as wyrm hide and came up to her kneecaps. She was looking at him with smug, almost malicious pleasure, hands on her hips. She did not exactly have good looks, more or less a commanding air of superiority and demanding respect, and her origins clearly of Omega. One could not relate her to Hyrakkidouran Raikoumaru, despite her being his brother's daughter.
'My, my, you think you can take my title as the new Crimson Raid?' she sneered, tossing back a few loose strands of her green hair. Her voice was high, and annoying, rather like nails scratching across asphalt. It made his skin crawl. 'You threaten to take MY title, little cousin?' She placed a strong emphasis on 'little', her sneer stretching ever more.
Kite scowled, though he was held back by two more bandits. Both were grinning stupidly at him, their yellow teeth pulled back in dog-like snarls. Their grips were outrageously tight, as he was beginning to lose feeling in his fingertips. 'You are not at liberty to take that title, Bell. I am his son, while you are his niece. You don't even look like him.'
Bell winced slightly, flickering at the few people behind her who nodded encouragingly. The damn traitors, they had been amongst Hyrakkidouran's inner circle before he died. Her sneer returned quite quickly, as did the cruel tone in her screechy voice. 'You are incorrect, I am the eldest Raikoumaru at age sixteen, and you are a wee fourteen years. You no longer have any authority.'
'He does make a point, Miz. Bell,' said one of the few long blade users, a tall man of about twenty with short green hair, though his long bangs clouded vivid green eyes. A rune with the form of a twisted G was plastered upon his cheek, a kantana scabbard at his belt. Kite knew him well, a childhood friend named Zeik. 'Sir Hyrakkidouran left it perfectly clear that he wanted Mr. Kite to succeed him.'
Bell turned her narrowed eyes to the man, breathing like a wounded animal, teeth clenched. 'What the hell do you know!' Zeik, unable to publicly challenge her without suffering death, fell silent. He did, however mouth 'I tried' to Kite, who gave him a small smile. Bell turned to Kite, trying to imitate her usual sneer but failing to do so. 'If you can prove yourself worthy to me and this tribe, I will renounce my rightful title. You have one year, and if you fail,' her lips twisted horribly, 'Death shall come to you if you ever interfere with the work of the Crimson Deaths.'
Kite's normally subdued temper flared suddenly, but he took two deep breaths and spoke in a voice that was forced to sound calm. 'Fine, I will prove my worth. You will not usurp my father's throne, pickpocket.' Bell gave a roar that did not suit a woman, or a sprite for that matter, and wrenched one of her twin daggers from its sheath, flinging it towards him. He closed his eyes and prepared to duck –
"Get up!"
Kite's eyes snapped open as his body hit the wood floor of his room in the Dark Flame with a crash. Blinking rapidly to clear the last traces of sleep from his vision, he stared blearily up into Blackrose's grinning face. He'd gotten used to her early morning activities, but he'd thought (or rather, prayed) she'd let him sleep today. It was the first time he'd been able to sleep in a real bed, rather than on a sleeping mat and his neck was very stiff. It seemed not the case, though it had snapped into a more comfortable position when he had fallen.
She was in a happy mood, glad to get the grit from the desert off of her body and out of her hair. Dressed in full armor (which apparently had been scrubbed clean of sand and soil since it no longer creaked), her sword scabbard was the sole missing item from her usual appearance. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he looked at the window. The grey light that signaled the coming of dawn was visible, creeping over the flat and even roofs of Mac Anu's buildings.
"Lazy boy, get up!" she said cheerfully, sitting down cross-legged on his bed and grinning down at him. The faint sunlight made her eyes twinkle mischievously. He glared darkly, standing and rubbing his eyes.
"How can you be active this early?" he grumbled and she laughed openly. "I've been up for a long time, so has Alicia. Mistral's downstairs," she scowled, as though the memory of the ever hyper Wavemaster were a blemish on her brain, "Trying to sleep some more. Are all mainlanders this lazy?"
"Don't stereotype," he said. The islander's wine-hued eyes stared daggers into his face, though it was not her usual bossy stare.
"It's not a stereotype if its true, now, is it?" He didn't dare argue back, it was too early and he was far too tired. Blackrose grabbed his arm in a surprisingly tight grip, forcing him down the stairs and into the main room of the pub.
Alicia was sitting on the bar, eating a plate of ham and fried eggs. Her hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head and held there by chopsticks carved from some sort of purple-white shell. The tables all set and ready for the few others who had rented rooms in the tavern and Mistral was at one table, her arms crossed and head resting on them. The outer layer of her robes was gone, her odd hat flopping over her closed eyelids and smalls snore came from under it. Kite sat down next to her and prodded the Wavemaster awake. Mistral gave a grunting snort and her head shot up. She yawned widely and laid her head back down, mumbling "A few more minutes, Master Lamington . . ."
Alicia's smiling face turned to Kite and the barmaid got down, a white skirt fluttering around her slender legs. "Well, you hungry? I can make some more eggs. My cook hasn't arrived yet, so they aren't the usual standard."
"That sounds nice."
She tore out a chunk of her ham and moved towards the back. For all her good looks, Alicia had horrible table manners. Blackrose sat at the table as well, crossing her legs on the table with the chair propped back on its hind legs. Her arms were crossed behind her head and she spoke to the ceiling, rather than her two sleepy companions.
"Well, do you have any other leads on that monster? The one that put your friend, you know . . ." She needn't continue.
Kite's head jerked up and he tried to focus in on Blackrose's face. "Its name is Skeith."
"Pardon?"
"The monster, its name is Skeith." His head fell onto the wooden tabletop as soon as Blackrose began to reply with her voice confused. "Isn't that the name on that plaque, you know, in the cathedral with that statue?"
He gave a sleepy nod, eyes drooping shut. Blackrose scowled and flicked his forehead. "Wake up!"
"Unlike you, I'm not a morning person," he grumbled into the table's surface. Blackrose didn't hear him, but he heard her feet hit the ground and the chair scrape against the floor. "What monster is it that it is in a holy building?"
Her yelling voice snapped the last traces of drowsiness from his mind and he stared at her face, though he was still leaning on his arms. "I dunno, maybe some religious figure. That building's a pagan relic, so shouldn't you know?"
"No such monster named Skeith is present amongst my religion," she said dangerously quiet, "On the island, you would be accused of heresy. Perhaps this demon something of your heathen beliefs?" He sighed again.
"I'm no priest, wouldn't know, and would you stop calling us heathens?" he said with a scowl, leaning up.
"I will not deny the truth." Blackrose turned towards the snoring Mistral and flung her open hand on the back of the Wavemaster's head. Mistral's chin hit the table and her eyes snapped open.
"Ow . . . That hurt Blackrose!" she whined, rubbing her chin sleepily. For a woman in her late teenaged years, she wasn't very mature.
"Mistral, do you know of a monster named Skeith, perhaps in mythology?" Mistral blinked rapidly.
"But of course, the Shadow of Death. He sucks life from all, and leaves the lifeless cadavers for the flying scavengers to pick upon. Carnage and disorder follow him like flies follow decay." Mistral yawned widely, and then examined Kite's and Blackrose's shocked looks. "What? You asked."
"Do you know anymore?" Mistral shook her head. "Sorry, I may be a priestess, but I'm still in training. That's all I know." Her eyes drooped again and she laid her head upon the table in sleep again. Kite sighed. With this new revelation of Mistral's, he could only imagine the arguments between her and Blackrose about religion. It made his head hurt thinking about it.
Blackrose opened her mouth to demand more of her but Alicia came bustling back, humming a travel tune and carrying three plates of still smoking ham and eggs. Setting the plates down on their table, Alicia saluted energetically. "Thanks," muttered Kite, lifting his head up to stare at the fresh breakfast. Blackrose grabbed the knife and fork positioned awkwardly at the edge of the plate and slid the egg ontop of the ham, beginning to eat.
"What about this Helba woman? Do you know her, or anything about her?" asked Blackrose through a mouthful of food.
"My father knew her," Kite confessed after a pause, "Business associates, I think."
"So she's a thief?" Kite raised an eyebrow. "That's such a dirty word. Experienced treasure hunters better suit our professional description." Her eyes narrowed and she slammed her knife inches from his hand. It quivered in the table, the egg yolk on it slipping down into the crevices of the wood.
"You were saying?" she asked delicately. He raised an eyebrow but continued speaking in a brisker voice.
"I saw her once, when I was really young. Dressed all in white, with a white staff." He remembered the staff that had been thrown down before Skeith had taken his own soul and hid a shudder, "She's a sort of cleric, though the religion she practices is neither Pagan nor Twilight."
There were two main religions on the continent. The first recorded religion, Element Celeste, was the worship of the elemental gods. Its worshipers, often referred as 'pagans' by the majority of the sprites, were the ancients and architects of the relics of the continent. The second was the religion stated by the empire under King Aperion. As of yet, it had no name, since the majority of the population were worshipers. There was a Holy Book, written by a bishop named Emma several years ago, but only the higher priests and priestesses had access to it. Helba had belonged to neither, instead believing in a goddess named 'Morgan' or something like that, who would bring forth Judgment Day.
"What does she worship, the filth?" The islander's humor was one sided
As the barmaid opened her mouth to speak, the doors of the inn opened, bringing in the biting chill of pre-winter and autumn winds. The man who entered must have been nineteen or less, clad in dark green armor with a red shoulder plate and chain mail gloves. Attached to his back was an axe with a long, staff-like hilt and a broad red-black blade. It vividly reminded Kite of the axe his childhood tormentor used in battle. His face was round, purplish-black hair surrounding his head in a bowlish cut. His eyes were of a similar color, a smile on his face.
"Can I get you a room sir?" asked Alicia, forgetting about them for a second as she moved towards the new arriver.
"Ah, such a pretty face! I was afraid I had walked into the wrong tavern, but you are clearly Alicia of the Dark Flame. I have heard the townsmen call you the Golden-Haired Goddess." He took her hand and kissed it. Alicia gave a girlish giggle and Blackrose rolled her eyes at the spectacle.
"Is that jealousy I see in the eyes of the valiant swordswoman?" Kite asked with a sheepish grin, only to be hit in the back of the head by a scowling Blackrose. Mistral giggled, pushing her hat backwards. The axeman didn't seem to hear them, but rather continued to compliment Alicia.
"I heard from the ears of a fellow artist that this tavern served food that appealed to even the Descendents of Fianna! I knew that there must certainly be a talented chief at hand, and looking at you, my fair lady, I do not deny that fact!" Blackrose's left eye was twitching slightly and picked up her still quivering knife, returning to her meal. Mistral yawned again and stood, rubbing her eyes. "'m gonna go make some tea," she muttered, "Want some? It'll help relieve anxiety and calms the mind."
"I'll pass, thanks," said Kite, head leaning against one arm as he picked at the eggs. The axeman, who had introduced himself as Piros to a still blushing Alicia, turned to Mistral and then to the table where Kite and Blackrose sat. His dark eyes looked from the islander's wine eyes to Kite's cerulean and gave a laugh.
"At last! A sprite with fair eyes to observe my triumph!" Kite nearly chocked on the piece of ham, Blackrose grinning widely. With his armor clanging loudly in the empty room, Piros hurried over to the two and saluted Kite. "Oh he of fair eyes, will you come to the place of the Holy One's Pilgrimage? A monster has harmed my dear friend Haylie, and I wish to vanquish this foe to put her fears to rest!"
Blackrose looked ready to burst out into hysterics, while Kite looked at her pleadingly for help. Turning back to Piros, Kite rubbed the back of his head, struggling for words. "Uh . . . well, I guess so . . ." The axe man gave a cheery laugh and clasped a gauntleted hand upon the thief's shoulder (which felt as though it might have snapped under the weight) and turned from the twosome to order a meal from Alicia. However, the barmaid had gone back to the kitchens to help Mistral with her tea and instead left the tavern, whistling a traveler's tune.
Still wondering what on earth had happened, Kite scowled as Blackrose burst into laughter, hugging her sides. "P-priceless!" she gasped, tears in her eyes. Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Kite pushed her off the chair whereas her laughter stopped and scowl returned. "You'll pay for that!"
Indeed he did, he thought with a scowl, hat back in place to hide his singed hair. Mistral paraded back in the room, holding a ceramic mug with steam pouring from the rim. Alicia followed, looking annoyed and muttering under her breath. "Damn flirt," she hissed, returning to the bar and taking down a bottle of brandy. It was amazing how she could stand the alcohol this early.
"You looked like you were enjoying the attention," said Blackrose, picking up her clear plate. Alicia arched an eyebrow in surprise and snorted in mirthless laughter. "I'm a damn good actor. You think a woman can work in a bar and giggle at every compliment she's given? She'll be forced into marriage with the first drunk guy she sees. Nah let them stew in their own enjoyment, then drop them like a rock."
"That's really cruel Alicia!" said Mistral, looking up from her cold plate of eggs. She merely gave a smirking smile and took a swig of brandy.
The morning went by and the threesome found themselves wandering Mac Anu's marketplace. Mistral was haggling with one man over her two relics whilst Blackrose had brought Kite over to a weapon's display. She was examining a kantana with an edge that looked like it would have rendered flesh to ribbons in instants.
"Like it?" asked the vendor, a squat man with a red beard and the rough hands of a blacksmith, "Pride and joy, the Kikuichimonji. Sharpest sword this side o' the continent."
Kite's attention left the sword while the islander began offering money. Of course, most of it had been from selling his bottles of Burning Oil, which had brought up a very nice price. He looked over towards the relic's appraiser, where Mistral was demanding a price no less then three thousand gold pieces. Walking over, he took the Grunt Idol from Mistral's hands. The appraiser glared at him, long arms crossed over her chest.
"This is in fine shape," he said simply, "No scratches, finely carved from steel with wooden inserts." The appraiser narrowed her golden eyes. "Your point, brat?" she sneered with a voice like Bell's.
He smiled and pointed out the eye sockets, where a dark jewel glittered. "See these? What would you say they were?"
"Pebbles found in a river," snipped the woman, tossing back her orange hair. Kite ran a thumb over them, clearing away dust and a sort of sooty substance. The eyes were instead a vibrant emerald, untouched by age and looking like they were fresh out of a noble's necklace. The woman's hawkish eyes widened and even Mistral raised an eyebrow. "Emerald jewels, at least two thousand gold a piece. Now, that ups the price to at least four grand, correct?"
"I'll give you six thousand for the idol and two thousand for the yellow candy," barked the woman, evidently excited to get her hands on the piece.
"Two fifty for the candy," said Mistral sharply. Muttering angrily, the woman pulled out two sacks of golden coins and threw them at Kite.
"You're a genius!" squeaked Mistral, flinging her arms tightly around Kite's neck, "I've never been able to get a single piece more then what the vendor wanted!"
He chocked, pushing her gently away. "Pay attention to details." At this time Blackrose had finished her bargaining and sported the kantana, which now hung next to her broadsword. "Right, I think we've got enough for this idiot's quest, o He of Fair Eyes," she said with a smirk at Kite.
"The sooner this is over, the better," he muttered darkly, handing the money over to Mistral. She tucked it happily away in her robes, grinning like she'd found the cure to all diseases.
About midday, they left Mac Anu with Blackrose leading atop Woodall. The mare looked especially bad-tempered today, having not rested well enough after the adventure in the Sea of Sand. Phi and Snowfall were better off, both being born of higher breeds.
The place Piros had mentioned was a vast field a good week's away from the city, where clerics of the Twilight Dragon went to retrieve a piece of the Rock Heads that dwelt in the bottom floor of the temple there. Unlike most of Delta's various shrines, the Stone Halls were fairly recent by building status. Mistral was happily singing a Sigma waltz at the top of her voice, a rather repetitive at that, which was doing little to keep the swordswoman's temper down.
"Will you be quiet already?"
"Singing helps pass the time! Rather a short trip then a long one, eh Rosie?" Kite thought Mistral had just signed her own funeral papers from the manic glimmer in Blackrose's eyes. Instead, she simply took a few deep breaths and spoke in a surprisingly calm voice.
"Tell us a little about yourself Mistral. You know, about your master."
This made Mistral smile brightly and push back her floppy hat. "Apprentice to Sigma's most powerful, wise and handsome Wavemaster, Count William der Lamington! He was a master summoner and a brilliant water mage," she cooed, hands clasped together and out of Psi's reigns. "He treated me like a daughter and made sure that everything was wonderful! But he was strict when it came to training, yes sirie! Up at the crack of dawn to meditate! I got kinda lazy when he said my training was complete and stuff." She laughed. "Joined the temple of the Twilight Dragon as a relic hunter, makin' sure that nothing too dangerous was left out in the open for innocents to find!"
'Explain this bracelet then,' thought Kite glumly, looking at his wrist. It had stopped hurting but still felt odd.
"I'm on my own pilgrimage, but I still go back to visit Master Lamington and the countess, Lady Flonne! Yep, they always have everything ready just for me!" She looked very happy at the memory and sat in silence for a while, apparently thinking over her foster family with great pride.
It was dusk and five days later when they reached the Stone Halls Temple, a massive building with obelisks surrounding the doors. Torches lit with yellow fire were perched on either side of the limestone doors which were surprisingly light despite their size. The inside was dark with only a few lights illuminating the path. Mistral touched the bottom of her staff to the ground and the top glowed with a white light, casting the many chambers into shadow. Blackrose had her new Kikuichimonji ready, Kite his twin daggers.
Midway through the first floor, an odd sort of cackling filled the air which made Mistral scream in shock and tread on Kite's foot. He had to duck a blast of wickedly green light so afterwards and spun around to find himself looked at a creature that came only up to his knee. Dressed in a shaman-type arrangement of feathers and a goat skull, a goblin was pointing its crude wand at the threesome with yellow, broken teeth bared in a nasty smile. Mistral held out her staff, a pentacle forming in the air in front of her.
"Rai Don!" she bellowed and slammed her staff against the stone ground. Lightning flickered into existence and struck the Magical Goblin. Although its grey-white flesh was crispy from the electrical burns, it did not die until one of Kite's daggers flung across the room and hit it squarely between the eyes.
"Whoops! Guess it's immune to magic, huh?" she said cheerily as the thief grabbed his weapon from the carcass, shaking off dark blood. Blackrose scowled again. The further they got in the temple, the more and more light seemed to decrease. Even Mistral's staff's light bit poorly against the growing shadows. Blackrose found a bit of wood and lit it with her fire magic, though it burned far too quickly and ended up useless.
Monstrous footfalls sounded from the corner of a large room, complete with jail cell where human bones were piled in corners, the skulls vividly visible. A Headhunter had appeared, as sightless and large in Yarthkin's Tomb, followed by a large dog with a spiked collar and a forked tongue. It looked completely harmless (despite large fangs and deadly claws) until its coat burst into flames.
"Damn it all!" swore Blackrose and swung her new sword against the Headhunter, creating a loud metallic clang painfully horrible in the room. Mistral swung her staff against the Hell Doberman, knocking it backwards a few inches before it bore its massive fangs and leapt towards her. Kite's dagger met its teeth and he kicked it squarely in the chest before it fell back. His boot's sole had melted slightly, adding burnt rubber to the smells in the room. "Vak Rom!" bellowed Blackrose, some of the weaker armor on the Headhunter turning red and melting. However, the dog seemed to only absorb the flames as its mad eyes flickered horridly, glowing with red light.
Kite and Mistral had to dodge the fireballs the monster had summoned and he darted towards the Headhunter, bringing a dagger through the skull in its hand. At once, the head opened its mouth and gave a piercing scream before crumbling to dust. Defenseless, it fell easy to Mistral's lightning spell in combination with the mighty swing of the Kikuichimonji. The Doberman gave no sign of its fellows collapse and bounded towards Blackrose, fangs dripping saliva.
"Saber Dance!" "Rai Don!" Neither attack did anything to harm the dog as much as they would have liked and one of its massive claws caught the exposed part of Blackrose's right arm. Yelling blindly in pain, her sword cut across the dog's eyes, bringing both blood and a jelly-like substance to the floor. Her booted foot collided with the dog's front leg, shattering it with a whine of pain. Kite dug his dagger into the dog's side, piercing at least a lung and Mistral bellowed a second spell, this time with a blue aura. "Rue Zot!" Ice appeared, instantly putting out the Doberman's flames and killing it in a second.
Blackrose whimpered in pain, clutching her bleeding arm. Her healing spell did little to help until Mistral touched it with her wand. "Oh Mighty Twilight Dragon, heal this wound and mend the flesh," she said gently, "La Reapth." The pale blue glow of the magic seeped across the cut, healing it in seconds.
"Thank you."
Mistral laughed as a way of a reply. Withdrawing his dagger, Kite lead both women onward into the depths of the dungeon-like temple. More enemies appeared, though none as vicious as the Hell Doberman.
Deadly Moths and more of the Magical Goblins were the norm, and one other Headhunter that only went down with a flame-edged lightning bolt, curtsey of both Blackrose and Mistral. There was one incident involving Mistral getting poisoned pretty badly from the Deadly Moth's pollen (she was probably allergic to it) and took two Antidotes for her to vomit it out of her system.
The bottom floor brought darkness unmatched by the upper stories. There was a shrine built down below, revealing the slender form of the Twilight Dragon hovering over a gold and crimson chest. The embodiment of the legendary beast was made of pure gold leaves, overlapping each other for the effect of scales, very pale sapphires carved with ebony slits for eyes. Its front arms were also its large wings, fine details revealing veins of the membrane, sharp ivory talons for its claws and the spike ending on its tail. Mistral bowed low to the statue (much to the amusement of Blackrose) and Kite nodded his head in respect for the religious figure.
The islander marched over to the chest and flung the lid open and pulled out a beautiful cloak fastened with golden buttons and made of rich, yet tough dark green material. It had long sleeves that fit tightly to one's arms to constrict accidents (such as the sleeves getting attached to branches and the like) though its long flowing hem was embroidered with noble golden thread. Smugly, Blackrose slipped it on and the magic embedded within it adjusted the cloak to fit her body. Also inside were a second Grunty idol (made of fine sapphire and aquamarine to imitate an Aqua Grunty) and a small card of rainbow colors revealing text of the Holy Book. Mistral grabbed the card and read aloud.
"'Thou art has past thy test. Thou art must retrieve the eye of a Stone Demon to complete thy Holy acceptance as a Cleric del mezzogiorno'." Mistral squealed excitedly. "A Cleric del mezzogiorno! How wonderful! Master Lamington will be so proud!" Personally, Kite couldn't see how a bit of rock and a parchment card would promote Mistral, but he didn't dare comment. Neither, thankfully, did Blackrose, but she did mumble to him, "She's insane."
The final room was different from the rest of the dungeon, lit brightly by a massive stone chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The main spectacle of the room was the Rock Head. A massive monster constructed entirely from moss-covered boulders, two fist-shaped rocks revolved around it and black eyes make from onyx spheres, were set in a crude face. The large nose was completely rectangular; a diagonal line made its mouth and opened to reveal toothless grey gums and a stationary tongue. Fighting the massive beast was none other then the green-clad Piros, his axe clattering uselessly against the thick, natural armor the Rock Head had.
"Arrgh!" bellowed Piros, "Take this for harming innocent Haylie!"
"What an idiot," muttered Blackrose, "He's going to get seriously hurt and we're going to have to take it down." Mistral had other plans. Intent on gaining the status of that cleric, she hurried towards the Rock Head and summoned forth her ice blocks. The monster turned its blank eyes towards her and hovered over. Blackrose swore in her own tongue and drew her broadsword this time.
"Damn her! Vak Rom!" The tornado of embers did little against it and Kite's dagger merely shattered against the thick coating. Cursing, he tossed away the useless hilt and wished he could do something more useful then this. "Rai Rom!" The lightning this time took the form of a tornado, scratching the surface of the monster this time.
Kite could only watch helplessly as his two friends and Piros chipped uselessly at the Rock Head. Looking at his wrist where the bracelet had appeared, he ground his teeth. "Soul Drain," he said, remembering the words that had spelled end for the Headhunter. Nothing happened. "Damn it!"
He cast an eye over towards Blackrose as she summoned her tornado of flames, looking at her hand movements. Raising his own hands, he cried out the words of the fire spell. However, the words came out slightly different and the effect was tremendous. "OrVak Rom!" The massive amount of fire that appeared burned every inch of moss upon the Rock Head's bulky body and it screeched as the fire torched the core of its being. It collapsed upon the ground, lifeless and unmoving.
Three sets of eyes turned to him, who looked dumbstruck as the result of his chaotic new magic. Mistral broke the silence by running over and hugging him. "KITE! That was AMAZING! I didn't know you were such a talented spellcaster! Such an advanced spell!"
He felt numb for a moment, as well as the lightheaded side-effect of the spell, but he did feel a smile stretch his face. He'd done magic. The first of his family in nearly three generations to do such a feat, not since great-grandfather San had accidentally torched his father's chicken coop out of hunger. Piros beamed at him. "He of Fair Eyes! I thank thee for your help in defeating this monster!" He reached inside the breastplate of his armor and pulled out a small scroll with fire-red runes written upon it. "Take this Meteor Strike scroll and my services in battle as a reward for your help."
"Uh, thanks," said Kite numbly, taking the scroll, "We were just going to head back to Mac Anu after this."
"Perfect! I can give the assurance of young Haylie that the monster is dead!" Mistral, as though remembering the words of the Rainbow Card, hurried towards the charred body and wrenched an eye out. Blackrose was glaring at him with narrowed eyes and marched towards him.
"Can't use magic, eh?" she said though clenched teeth, "You nasty little liar!"
Afraid of being at the receiving end of the sword clenched in her hand, he shook his head furiously. "No, not at all! This was an accident!"
"An accident!" she yelled, causing Mistral and Piros to turn back and look at her in fright, "Nobody summons that much fire as an accident!"
"I swear by my honor. No Raikoumaru will ever lie, never have, and never will." She looked at his pale eyes and sighed deeply.
"Fine, fine, but I'm going to have to teach you to control your power, you little bandit." She smirked and the group left the dungeon, Mistral happily toting the large onyx eyeball and laughing happily. Six days later, they arrived back at Mac Anu, tired and eager to enjoy cooking other then the Blackrose's special: rabbit burnt to a crisp.
I do not own .hack, Bandai does. I own the gist of this story.
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