Disc 3: I don't own Slayers, k?
chapter 3: action...
If Valgaav had been conscious, he'd probably have said something insulting at the sight of Danver's 'stealth'-squadron scurrying past, over, along and (the unlucky ones to drop down a sink hole) under the rock-desert. The scouts were –to say the least- noisy. They were lucky that the area was completely deserted, because any possible enemy could have fried, smashed, squished, blasted or just simply killed them all at least six times before they found out that 'stealth' meant being quiet and not alerting everyone of your presence. That's called heroics. Well, they WERE stressed about the thought of running into their worst nightmare. Banging noises could be heard all over the place, until they suddenly stopped, followed by agitated whispering of 'We've got 'm surrounded!'.
If the situation wasn't so serious, it'd be funny, but now, Danver only thought it was pathetic. He decided to just skip the whole scouting-and-surrounding part and just go up to the unconscious Valgaav and get it over with. It'd be too dangerous to take chances.
The group of fighters almost couldn't believe that the hurt man lying a few metres further was the reason they were so scared. They had learned not to judge people by their appearance, but they still were shocked about Valgaav's complete...defencelessness. He didn't move. He hardly breathed. The only thing to remind them that he was indeed the one they had been looking for was that scary claw of his and the horn.
He was theirs to kill. Too bad they weren't allowed to. First, he had to atone for all his sins. Their elders would decide what to do with him. Probably lock him up in that special prison they built for him.
But they had never thought that it would be so ridiculously easy to capture him. He should at least be awake to face his trial. They wanted to see fear in his eyes, anger, defeat. He didn't have to put up a fight, just being awake would be enough. They at least wanted to show their skills to him, let him know how hard they had trained for their victory, not just pick him up and leave. It was just too damn easy!
Before the shocked eyes of his companions, Danver walked up to the spot where Valgaav had fallen. They eyed him anxiously like he was approaching a stray grenade that could detonate every moment. In this case, it was an appropriate metaphor, but this stray grenade was broken.
Danver's eyes wandered from Valgaav's horn to his wicked aqua hair to his limp body to finally halt on his claw. He had expected to feel relieved at the sight of the defeated enemy. He had expected to feel happy, proud, superior to this demon spawn. But the feeling that was creeping into I mind was...pity. He felt sorry for the creature before him. He could clearly see that life hadn't been merciful to his enemy. There was something about the way Valgaav was lying there. He didn't look anything like the menace he had been before. The emotions etched on his face were betrayal –who betrayed him?-, anguish –that attack sure must've hurt a lot-, and total powerlessness. If the mazoku-Ancient had been awake, he would've hidden those feelings behind his usual mask of arrogance. Sleep and coma can show a lot of people's secret feelings.
Pity was what Danver felt when he looked at the defeated, broken Ancient. And it confused him. 'This has to be some kind of trick!' He was supposed to feel the hatred spike, not feel sorry for this piece of mazoku-scum!
His comrades had been watching their leader and their fallen enemy closely, keeping watch over the scene. They were prepared for anything, but not for what they saw next. With a sudden cold look of pure loathing, Danver kicked the unconscious man in the side. Hard. Valgaav's slender body was thrown into the spire he had used to slow down his fall. When his back collided with the sharp, rocky surface, his head shot upwards in pain, eyes still closed. The only sound he made was a weak gasp for breath before he went limp again. It was a sight to feel sorry for.
But Danver wasn't done. He cracked his knuckles, bent his knees and punched Valgaav in his stomach in one fluid motion. Valgaav's body leaned over. This time, Danver's victim's golden eyes shot open, pupils first widened in shock, then shrunk in pain. Again, a little blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Out of reflex, his normal arm grabbed Danver's wrist and twisted. Amazed by Valgaav's speed, Dan hardly noticed that the motion broke his wrist.
When the pain finally got through, the only thing he could manage was a meek 'Ow!'. As if this was their cue, the bravest of his comrades rushed forward to help him. They tried to break the Ancient's strong grip by hitting him wherever they could or tugging at his hand (which only resulted in paining their friend even more). One of them even had the guts to grab the dragon-mazoku's horn and ramming his head backwards against the spire. All their attempts failed until the smartest of them drew out a knife and slashed Valgaav's arm. Immediately, he released. Unaware of what had happened, only feeling the pain in his head and arm, Valgaav lost consciousness again.
It was downright embarrassing that the 'warriors' were having so much trouble with Valgaav when he wasn't even completely conscious. Their brute force wasn't enough to handle even his reflexes. Danver hadn't seen it coming in his blind rage. He scolded himself for letting it get out of hand like this, for having been childish. He had wanted action? Well, he had gotten it. His broken wrist was his punishment. But in the end, Valgaav had gotten the penalty the inexperienced warrior should've gotten for his fault.
That thought plagued Danver the whole way back home. Cradling his injured arm, he kept an eye on the carriers. Not that they were in any danger, Valgaav had been tied to a stretcher, but it wasn't carried like a stretcher is to be carried. The squad wasn't done punishing him: two of them were pulling him behind them, head downwards. They didn't bother to avoid pits and bumps on their road; they liked watching Valgaav twitch in pain whenever he'd almost crush his skull against the rocks too much.
'Maybe I'll tell them to stop doing that and be a bit more careful...' Danver thought.
'Maybe...'