Part 4: Morroc
She was crouching in the shadows. For some, her methods could be labeled as cowardly. But she didn't care. Being human and granted like the rest of the species with only one life, she had no intention on wasting it for honor. Or anything else for that matter. What she had to do was earn money. And what easier way than to try her luck in the fighting rooms? The person who gets to beat the most opponents gets a sizable prize money. She had done it dozens of times before. And if some of them got killed in the process, then that wasn't her concern was it? She did not talk them into entering, anyway.
Someone was approaching her hideout unawares. Probably a newbie. The oldest challengers knew of her. And they knew this was her favorite corner. She hid.
The swordsman was so close she could actually touch him from where she was crouched. She casted Grimtooth, voicing out the words as softly as possible. Most assassins set great store on their other skills, like Sonic Blow and even Envenom. But she was known after all as a person who avoided any possible risk. While people of the same class relied on their agility to get the job done, she specialized in more subtle means of attack. Particularly hiding… and the Grimtooth.
Not that it was in any way lacking in the finer points of martial arts. As it were, the strength of the attack needed grate dexterity in the part of the caster. And calculating the needed dexterity and agility had not been a walk in the park. She cannot, after all, afford to miss. Being of the class wherein speed was the most important of all, her strength wasn't enough to ward much of the opponents blow. One wrong step meant death.
Her quarry looked around self consciously, probably feeling the slight oppressing atmosphere that usually surrounds the casted skill's receiving end. But it was not enough for him to actually grow suspicious. That is, until large spikes rose from the ground itself and impaled him thereof.
She got out of hiding to take away the swordie's registration pin that was attached to his cloak. Each participant was given a pin upon entry inside the fighting rooms. It served as identification, as well as a fitting trophy for those veteran Pin Collectors. The more pins one had, the more chance one got for the winning of the prize money. As of now, the Assassin figured that she was leading the rat race.
" Help." His voice was choked. With blood or weakness, she didn't know. She shouldn't really care as well, but it must have been the gray eyes. His eyes were all but filmed with death. Sad and cold. Distant and full of impotent anger. Like the Priest's. How she could remember his face as the world was slowly revealed to him, as he grew up. His disillusionment. He never was the same since. Never again the eager acolyte who went hurrying to the Sanctuary in order to save his friend, the innocent believer who only wanted to do good. Changed now. He was too cold. But he was the same to her. After all, he always knew of her evil. What a pair they had been. The Despairing Cleric and the Money Hungry Murderer.
" Here." She spat out, tossing one of her white potions at the young man. " Drink that after the spikes come back to the earth and leave your flesh. Try to get the right thing done by an acolyte, will you?"
She was getting mellow. She probably needed a man. Maybe tonight.
..
" Well, aren't we going today?"
The wizard looked at the knight who was seated at the foot of his bed lazily. " You say yourself that this is an urgent matter. Aren't we going off to Morroc to fetch our treacherous assassiness?" he pulled the bedcovers tightly against himself when he felt Vanraillyn's coy attempt to reveal his nakedness to the pale morning light. " Lay off, ogre! How is it that you can think of trivialities when matters of more importance are at hand?"
" How is it that you can shout out the vilest of abuses and still sound so prim?" the knight retorted. " You're really from the Old Blood, aren't you? Sure you want them to die out?"
" What do you mean?" the wizard had taken his staff from its corner by the bedside table and had used it to give his companion a satisfying bump on the head.
" Ouch! Man, Sikh, that hurt. Anyone tell me of wizard frailty and I'm gonna tell them to try woo you." He grinned, towering over Sichael menacingly. " You're taking me in as your lover, I mean. Are you sure you won't marry and continue the royal House of Mariné, dear?"
" What does it matter?" Sichael said, somewhat sharply. " The Old Blood isn't that powerful as they were, you know. They've gone out of style. Besides, being the person that I am, do you think my loving mother wasted time in disowning me?"
" Hm, she could commit bigger mistakes." The knight caught hold of the wizard's long raven hair and was playing with it as one would play with water.
" Quit it, Sir Knight. You're not being gentlemanly at all." The wizard snapped. He would have done more, but etiquette forbade anyone from casting serious damage on your fellow guildsman.
" You're no damsel in distress yourself, Sikh. You're as manly as they come, you know. And Heaven forgive the man who would mistake that girly face of yours!" he chuckled at his own cruel joke, keeping his own tangled relationship with the wizard way out of the line of fire.
" Hm, thank you." Sichael said, " Now leave and let me get dressed will you?"
" Man, what can I see now that I haven't already seen?" the other complained.
" What one had touched before isn't exactly free for all time." Was the reply before the knight got the door slammed to his face.
" Can't you just say I won't be able to get my hands off you if I see you naked?"
" That, too."
" Alissa…"
The man on top of her was heavy. Smelled of sweat, even. Too male. Unlike him. It was what made her unfaithful to him in the first place. It was not only for the sake of variety. She thought she needed a man. The fact that the Priest was the only one who can ever arouse her like that only made it worse. There must be something genetically wrong with her. Or maybe she just hated manly men. Both prospects seemed insane.
She tried to keep her mind on what she was doing, but she couldn't seem to. Too bad that she had to remember his gray eyes right now. Her memories of him distracted her. She thought that that was long past. Oh, she never doubted the intensity of her feelings for him. That used to frighten her as well. But she tried so hard to tell herself that all was finished. She had to move on. They had made their vows to part, and she wasn't going to see him again. He'll probably rot in the Sanctuary preaching to people about God. People he never believed in to share the faith. People he had given up on long ago. He was probably dying there, wanting to kill them every time they look up at him as he says Mass. And, oh, did they expect him to be pure when they were not? Let's not kid ourselves.
But he was true to his faith. Locked up as he was within the four walls of the Sanctuary, which was anything but to him, she didn't think he would give in to the demands of the flesh. Considering that he saw men as damned, she couldn't think otherwise. He hated men. Hated even the most helpless, which made him false as a priest. But she couldn't help but respect him. He was the nicest example of sharp dichotomies in the history of mankind. He was good, inspired others to do good, when through it all, he was hating mankind, judging them too dirty even for the cleansing torments of Hell. Black and White. Good and Evil.
" What's wrong, love? You- you're out in the sky with your head amid the clouds."
Hm, he could talk poetry, her temporary lover. Talk poetry, and be thick enough to assume that no one would think of anything while making love to him but his handsome, scarred face. " Just tired." She managed, trying to get him off her. " Sorry. Was a long day."
" Hell, chick, it is for everybody. You don't hear us complain though, do you?" he snapped at her. She wished he wouldn't do that. She wanted to wipe his saliva off her face, but he was holding her hands in a tight grip. " Now give a man his due, whore. You think you're so pretty that you can just back off our agreement now, do you? Suck it!"
She kept her mouth in a firm line as he tried to shove his engorged manhood inside. " I wouldn't recommend that, darling."
" Bitch!" he was trembling with anger and disappointed desire. She smiled, shoving her legs so that she had the guy's head between her feet, she swung hard, freeing herself of his weight as he landed back on the bed with a thud.
" I said I'm sorry, okay? You can't understand simple English?" she felt free, as if a burden had left her shoulders and rolled to oblivion.
But she wanted so much to cry.
" You think she'll come with us?"
" You came, didn't you? And I think she's a lot more loyal to the guild than you are. She'll come. It's a chance to meet him again, you see. Hmp, don't tell me the Midgardians worked without their personal interests in mind." Vanraillyn said. He hoped he was correct. The priest won't join them unless the assassin was there, he was sure of that. Losing one was losing the other.
" Whatever. You can't help but think in the terms of the heart, can you? She'll probably come anyway if you tell her that we have to have our Master back or we die. In enemy hands, no less." The other pointed out. He was about to add more, but suddenly stopped.
" What's wrong, Sikh? Didn't get bitten by anything, did you?" the knight asked, too sharply.
" Don't panic like that, Lynn. I'm okay. Just fine. There's just more sand in my shoe than it has my foot. I hate Morroc! Hell, I hate this. Why did you have to leave the pecopeco back home anyway?" his companion snapped, taking off the despised shoe.
" Because what with two of us and an assassin to boot, we would have attracted to much attention. We can't drag the pecopeco with us, too. It's not that far, once we get out of the Sograt Desert, it'll be better." The knight said, soothingly. He knelt down by Sichael and helped in lacing the shoe back on. " We'll get there in two days."
" Two days!" the wizard exploded. " don't you have money to have us warped there?"
" We do. But I have left most of it in Izlude. So it's no use to shout, darling. Besides, we can't waste money when we could walk."
" I hate you, Vanraillyn." Sichael said.
" You never told me that in bed before, though, dear." the knight pointed out. " Now, you know our lives depend on this little venture and we have to have our assassin with us. So I don't see why you have to complain. Perhaps you want other guilds whom we had served ill coming at us with death in their hands? Come on, Sikh. Be practical will you?"
Well, thought the wizard, perhaps I have undervalued the knight's mental processes. But still… " Fine. But I still hate Morroc. I hate sand, it gets to everything."
" You know, I like you when you pout, but I must say that I thought no one would be as finicky as Cylade. I was wrong." Vanraillyn was glad he had taken off his knight's ensemble and left them in Geffen. If he had to wear that blasted chainmail in this heat, he'd die of suffocation. After all, it was all he could do to walk in those stuff at the best of times. If it would ever be that they have to face monsters out here, he'll have to do without protective armor. He could now see why thieves were so scantily clad. The heat was not melting. It was broiling. Remembering the fact that the priest used to live in these parts when he was still training with some nun as an acolyte, he couldn't see how the person had survived. He had to admit that they were all particular, but the priest was particularly so. After all, Cylade almost never complained vocally. And Sichael was always too preoccupied to say anything. Or perhaps they just didn't want the Master to get angry at them. The priest was the only one who dared. Funny.
The wizard was silent. He had taken off his cloak and had it slung over his shoulder with the face of one who was ordered to carry the cross he would be crucified onto. He had braided his hair tightly with a leather thong earlier, but the hot desert winds had pushed several wisps free and they danced around the wizard's pale face now. " I feel so dirty. First thing I do is take a bath."
Vanraillyn smiled faintly. He avoided the skeletons scattered around absently, wishing he would find an oasis and stay there. Stay. Forget the Guild Master. Let him rot in hell. I'm hot. The sands were hot to his feet. He had discarded his boots and had opted for sandals, but it sure didn't help. But weirdly enough, the undulations of the dunes didn't rise that steeply, despite the strong winds and that made walking easier. " Put your cloak back on, Sikh. You're gonna be sunburned."
" It's too hot." Sichael complained, but he looked at his pale arms and complied. " Let's stop here, Lynn." He did not wait for his companion's reply, but seated himself under what looked like a coconut tree.
Vanraillyn seated himself beside the wizard, offering his weaker companion the canteen of water. " Drink up. We could always kill a damn Mukha."
The offer of the drink accepted, the wizard cocked his head to one side. " Do you hear something, Lynn?"
" Hm, what? My stomach growling?" but then he heard it. A low drone. And the flutter of wings. Hundreds of wings.
" Goddamn! It's the Dragon Fly!" the knight cursed profanely, something he learned while training. And to prove that he was a Midgardian, like the rest of the finicky gang, he grimaced. " I hate flies!"
Sichael smiled. " Then leave them to me." He was already in the middle of casting a firewall.
Alissa was seated by the counter, sipping her mead. It was coarse, stronger than her customary ale, but it was cheap, and that was important. She wished she had ordered a lemonade. They've never drunk mead together. But then again, he always had money to pay for the drinks.
" Yoh, Ali, I didn't know you drank mead."
She turned around. The knight was grinning at her, it was like the ten years had never been. She could still remember the first time they met. Hey, I'm Vanraillyn Argentum. Say, you and your companion are pretty folks. Wanna join up in our guild? But it was different. She was older, wiser, more bitter. Only Vanraillyn was the same. He looked undaunted by real life. Shaken, maybe. But unbeaten. Lucky him.
He was also carrying the wizard in his arms.
" What happened?" she asked, curiously. It would be a waste to get worried. If the knight wasn't, why should she?
" Oh, nothing major. He's just dead tired. Had to fight off a Dragon Fly and his mob single handedly. Who wouldn't be? I had to make him drink a lot of red pots though. Frail man, Sichael."
" Where were you?" she demanded, with a side of the mouth lifted slightly.
" Uhm… can we rent a room here?"
" Why don't we just get warped to Prontera? It would save time. I know an acolyte who could help us." She suggested. " It would be cheaper."
" I'm so glad you'll join us." The knight shifted his position so that he could look at his burden. " See, she's coming with us. What did I tell you, Sikh."
" I'm tired Lynn. Shut up."
Author's note: Thanks for the review, Jonathan kun. It's greatly appreciated… not to speak of the fact that you're the only one who bothered… but I'm just being bitter. About the yaoi pairing… well, they are the main pair… but I'm asking for a bit of understanding here. I think the knight's protectiveness for the wizard is kind of cute… I'm not accusing you to be a homophobe or something, I just want you to think of them as two people in love rather than two icky guys having sex. XP.
As for the Cylade Crycelda pairing… I think they're cool too. but you won't find them overly sweet or anything. It makes up for the Ali-El kind of thing. Oh, yeah, starting this chapter, things are going to get kind of lemonish… a lot of adult stuff going on… but don't let my real age get around… ne?
As for Pinky kun ( who didn't review online.), I thank her for her comments. Yes, I'm just introducing my characters. Things are going to get bloodier soon… I hope. Tell that to your buddy.
