Disclaimer: I don't own dragoon. I DO however own a funny little leprechaun
that tells me to burn things.
Dart only has the Darkness and the Violet spirits. The cultist that struck Albert down stole the Jade spirit, so Dart still has five left to find. That's my fault, because I made a typo the first time around and said four instead of five. It should be fixed by now. Gomen!
Ragnarok's POV:
I hate waiting for dawn. That may sound strange coming from one such as myself, but it's true. While Dart sleeps his mind and body become open to me, but out of courtesy I will not use it without his consent. Therefore the gap in time between sunset and daybreak becomes indeterminable. More so than normal though was I irked by this fact. The problem of the sailor Embren bothered me. Dart reasoned that even if he were going to try something, he wouldn't try it in the inn because dead bodies and unpaid room fees attract too much attention. I conceded to his point; however I was still mistrustful. It is not prudent to allow enemies to roam free while one sleeps, and I argued with myself about whether or not it would be wise to do something about it.
I touched Dart's mind briefly. Out like a light. The events of the last day and night had sapped away his strength all but completely and he still had not recovered. Absently I wondered how much sleep I should allow him. I would have preferred that we left this place before daylight and caught the next ship to Millie Seasue; that way we would be able to deal with both the sailor and be able to get away from the city with little or no questions asked. But it would be no good if Dart fell over the moment he got out of bed. I would just have to hope that he woke up early.
I turned my thoughts back to the problem of the cult. I had been hoping that we'd have been lucky enough to have killed most of them with that attack on Lidiera, but it seemed that they had become more widespread during our seventy year absence while we were in Ulara. And if the talk of the sailors on the Sea Hawk had any truth to it, then the cult had members in this town, if not an entire chapter. That worried me. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been one or two people. We could eliminate the influence of the cult with relatively no disturbance at all. But people would start to notice if suddenly a large portion of their community was found slaughtered inside what passed for their place of worship. Destroying the entire chapter of the cult in Fueno would quite possibly class as one of the greatest works of my life as of yet, but Dart had something against mass murder. And while he had come a long way in the last hundred years or so, he still had too many mercies I had to do away with. He was a decent partner now, but I would prefer someone a little bit more ruthless. We would have to do a fair amount of things in the future that would classify as atrocious in his mind, and I didn't want moralities getting in my way.
The cult still had five of the dragoon stones as well. Violet and darkness had been recovered, but I had a feeling that we would have to wrench the others from the dying grasp of the cultists. For some reason, the notion of doing that pleased me immensely. There's always a certain satisfaction involved when recovering something of value from a dead enemy, especially if you were the original owner in the first place.
Dart's POV:
I awoke in darkness a few hours before dawn. Ragnarok seemed anxious to get moving. I think that he thought my habit of oversleeping would cost him the opportunity for one of those back alley murders he enjoyed so much. At his urging, I dressed quickly and went downstairs. A sleepy-looking bar maid sat on a stool, talking quietly to the equally sleepy bar tender who was wiping off a large tarnished tankard. Without bothering to interrupt their conversation, I placed the remainder of my night's fees on the bar counter and left.
Outside it was cold and clear, the moon above lighting the streets and white buildings of Fueno with a silvery luminescence. A chill breeze blew off the sea, teasing the fabric covers of outdoor shops and causing them to flutter in the breeze. I frowned as that same wind caught my hair, stirring it into a bigger mess than it had been previously. I really needed to get another bandana. Pulling my coat closer around myself I started towards the harbor, the leather soles of my boots making little noise on the cobbled stone street.
The moonlight cast strange shadows in the streets, looming ominously from the corners of the buildings and in the depths of the narrow alleys in between. Ragnarok was unusually quiet as I walked, listening hard while I used my eyes. But despite this, the streets were silent and lifeless. In fact we were almost to the docks before anything happened at all.
//Behind you! Now!//
Without thinking I spun around, tearing my sword loose from its clasp on my belt and swung wide. The knife that had been thrown at my back deflected with a loud clang; it spun off harmlessly into the darkness, struck a wall, and fell to the stones with a clatter. Further up the street Embren stood staring at me in disbelief as he tried to form a plausible explanation as to how I could have known the knife was coming.
"Your eyes look a little bit wild, my friend," I told him politely. "I don't advise trying that again." I turned my back and continued down the street, but didn't put away my sword. The sailor would do one of two things; see the danger of the situation and take the opportunity to escape, or loose his head and attack my unprotected back.
Embren hesitated for a moment, but then pulled a heavy marlinespike from his belt and with a strangled cry lunged for my back. He was brought up short as I once again struck out with the flat of my blade, knocking him to the ground. Snarling, he rolled over but was prevented from getting up by the tip of my sword hovering an inch or so from his windpipe.
"You don't get it do you? I don't want to kill you." I said the words in hopes of calming him, but my sword arm remained steady.
"I'm sure," he spat furiously. "Did you say the same thing to my family before you burnt them, Monster? Or did you allow them to grovel on the ground before you and plead for mercy fist?" He clamped his mouth shut, glaring at me with eyes filled with an undeniable hatred. We remained that way for several minutes staring at one another, waiting for the other to back down.
Eventually the stalemate was broken as the sound of a ship's bell in the distance announced it was preparing for departure. Without breaking eye contact with Embren I lowered my sword. "I'm afraid I leave you here, friend. I have a ship to catch."
//WHAT?//
I ignored Ragnarok's outburst and clipped my sword back into my belt. Embren watched me incredulously. "What? So that you can slaughter more people? So that more will suffer the fate of Lidiera? I'll be dead before I ever allow that to happen!" He rolled to his feet and slashed out with his marlinespike. Ducking under the sharp iron spike, I knocked aside his arm and punched him solidly in the face. His head snapped back and he dropped like a stone, blood streaming from his nose. Catching him before he could strike the ground, I dragged him into the shadow of a doorway and let him down in an unceremonious heap. I turned to leave but then thought the better of it. Groping in the pocket of my coat for a moment, I pulled out a flask of liquor I had picked up last night at the inn. Uncorking the flask, I splashed the strong smelling liquid down Embren's front with no particular finesse. Leaving a bit of the drink in the flask, I slipped it into his hand and stepped back to admire my handiwork. To any casual observer he would seem like nothing more than a common drunkard and the stench of alcohol would help to discredit any story he might try to tell about me.
Ragnarok didn't approve of my answer to our problem with Embren. As far as he was concerned, the only way to leave someone behind without having to worry about them coming back to kill you later was to leave them dead in a gutter somewhere. Unfortunately, that was also his answer to many other of life's little problems. Normally he would have railed at me for doing something that he considered as stupid as this, but now he showed his displeasure with a frosty silence that actually chilled the back of my mind.
At the docks I found a small ship, The Star of Donneau, making ready to leave. After a brief haggling session with the ship's captain as to the price for passage to Millie Seasue, I climbed the gangplank and took what was starting to become my habitual place at the bow. The ship cast off just as the first rosy fingers of dawn had begun to touch the eastern sky, tingeing the horizon a pale purple-gray. Riding the sluggish waves out of the cove, the ship slipped out of sight of land and into the vast expanse of Illisa Bay.
The trip to Millie Seasue took considerably longer than the times I had ridden on the Queen Fury. Powered only by wind and sail, The Star of Donneau lacked the steam-powered engines of the larger warship. I guess the idea of using furnaces to power boats hadn't caught on yet. Or the means to build one at a reasonable cost had not yet been attained. Vaguely I wondered if the Queen Fury was still running, and if she was, if her Captain was as strange as Commodore Puller had been. I will admit that when I first met that man I was given a bad impression of seamen; since then I've found it necessary to revise my opinion quite often. Seamen aren't strange: Commodore Puller was.
Three days after we left Fueno we sailed into port in Furni. As I followed the group of laughing sailors down the gangplank, I looked with some surprise at their waterfront. Where a hundred years ago there had been nothing but an empty space for placing unloaded cargo there was now a large outdoor market crowded with people. Performers and charlatans where everywhere demonstrating their skill with what appeared to be magic, but were really no more than sleight of hand tricks. Still, the children watching squealed with delight whenever someone made something disappear or appeared to pull a flower out of thin air.
//There's winglies here// At some point in the voyage Ragnarok had started to speak to me again and was now making observations about the crowd every two minutes or so as I walked through.
/That's good. I was starting to wonder if any of them aside from Meru and Gurahaha would come out of the forests/ I bent over to examine a length of black cloth being displayed on a wooden rack amid bowls of beads and silk sashes.
//It seems that they have. Keep an eye out for cultists. They may be preaching around here somewhere// Ragnarok still seemed to be annoyed that he hadn't gotten his kill in lately. Fine by me. Killing a grief stricken man is one thing. Killing a raving fanatic out for my blood is a completely different story. I bought the cloth and looped it around my head once or twice. Satisfied that I had finally gotten back my bandana, I wove my way through the crowded marketplace towards an empty street. The waterways below where surprisingly devoid of boats; everybody seemed to be at the marketplace. I slipped into an alcove and leaned against a door to think for a moment. /We're here to try and stamp out this chapter of the cult, right?/
//Yes//
/How are we going to find them? It's not like they have a cathedral around here or anything/
//They probably don't have any specific place of worship// He thought about it for a moment. //Just stand around and look religionless. Sooner or later one of them will try to come along and try to convince you to join them//
/Is 'religionless' even a word?/
//Of course not. I made it up//
/Wow. I never knew dragons had such abilities with language/
//Let it lie, Dart//
/Fine/ I was trying to figure out how to look 'religionless' when the door behind me opened suddenly and a hand grabbed me by the shoulder, dragging me forcefully inside. Whoever it was spun me around and pushed me against a wall, hard. My head cracked painfully on the stones, causing stars to explode in my vision as I sank to the floor.
"Was that more or less what you had in mind?" A man asked from somewhere above me. His voice tugged at the edge of my memory, as though I should know him.
"Exactly! You did it perfectly Gurahah." Now there was a voice I would never forget. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I found myself staring full into Meru's beaming face. Her smile looked authentic, but the way she was holding her hammer suggested otherwise. Gurahah hovered in the background, red eyes watching me intently.
"Meru, what are you doing here?" I groaned, touching the back of my head gingerly. It was sore, but there didn't seem to be any real damage.
"Us? We came here for the festival. Why are you here?" Her tone was still deceptively cheery, but I noticed her grip tighten on the shaft of her hammer.
"Just passing through." I tried to sound convincing, but I could see she didn't buy it. I climbed slowly to my feet and dusted off my coat. "I have some business to do anyway."
"It wouldn't have anything to do with Lidiera, would it?" Gurahah's tone was neutral. I cursed inwardly. Had the word spread that fast?
"The destruction of Lidiera wasn't my fault," I told them. Meru started to object, but I held up my hand. "If everything had gone well I could have just gone in and killed the Moon Child without having to resort to any further violence. But that damn cult chose to interfere. I didn't have much hope except to level the place."
Meru and her husband exchanged glances. "D'ya mean that religious group that came out of Tiberoa about twenty years back?" Meru asked. "Run around in saintly white robes and proclaim Soa's love for us all in high-pitched voices? Try to convert anything that can stand up and breathe?"
"Those are the priests. The rest just mill about shouting evangelical slogans."
"They actually managed to get followers?" Gurahah's eyes narrowed. "I get the feeling that there's more to this story than you can tell us here." He turned to Meru. "We should go back to the forest anyhow. Your parents are going to start wondering what happened to us."
Meru bit her lip, torn between her curiosity and her urge to brain me with her hammer. Her curiosity must have won out, because she finally lowered her hammer and stuck out her tongue at me. "You're just lucky I haven't heard any good stories lately," she growled, trying unsuccessfully to sound menacing. She glared at me for a moment then broke into a grin, unable to keep a straight face. "Just don't kill anyone one the way there, promise?"
The Forest of the Winglies is one of the few remaining havens for winglies who do not wish to come into contact with humans. Since the seal to the forest may only be broken by a wingly, its residents were able to go the better part of the last eleven thousand years without being disturbed. Although inferior in comparison with the other wingly cities such as Ulara and Aglis, the magic found here is still like nothing humans have created as of yet.
We sat at a table in a green lighted room that I guess belonged to Gurahah. I had finished relating my story to them and now they sat in silence staring very hard at the grains of wood in the tabletop. I will admit that I was nervous. I couldn't afford to be detained any longer if I was going to hunt down all the cult chapters before the appearance of the next Moon Child, and if they didn't believe me then there was going to be trouble. Finally, Meru reached for an apple sitting in a bowl in the center of the table. "So lemmie get this straight. You've been possessed for the past hundred and eight years or so by the Divine Dragon?"
I flinched mentally and then nodded. People always had trouble digesting that part According to Ragnarok, it had taken him almost half an hour to convince Charle that it was not me talking, but him when he had first arrived in Ulara.
//Let me explain. Gurahah has good sense; I should be able to bring him around//
/Right/ I looked at Gurahah. "You don't believe me, do you."
"It is a little bit thin, Dart." He actually sounded apologetic.
I leaned forward. "Would you believe me if I were to prove it to you?"
"I'll believe almost anything if it can be proven," the wingly replied, but I thought he still sounded doubtful.
//Tell them to watch your eyes//
/Why? Do they change?/
//Enough. Now tell them//
I dutifully repeated the message. Gurahah leaned forward to stare at my eyes intently. "All right then, now what?"
I suddenly felt as though my awareness was shoved to the back of my mind. I could no longer control my body, but I still had access to my five senses. This must be where Ragnarok spent most of his time.
Across the table Gurahah had jumped back slightly when the switch had taken place. He blinked several times, as though to clear his vision, but didn't seem to have any noticeable success.
"Do you believe us now, Gurahah?" The voice that had come out of my mouth was not my own, but a low one with the slight undertone of something growling. Usually Ragnarok would disguise his voice so that it would sound like mine, but I guess that he had no reason for that now. "Or do you need some more proof? Would you like me to tell you in detail the events leading up to the first Dragon Campaign?"
"That won't be necessary," Gurahah replied quickly, sounding a little faint.
"Good. It's a rather tedious and involved story and I doubt you would enjoy several hours of boredom.
At the mention of the word 'boredom', Meru shuddered. "You got that right." She leaned back in her chair. "Umm, is the real Dart in the house?"
//That's a novel way to put it//
I pushed Ragnarok back. "I'm right here," I told her. "Now do you believe me?"
"Who wouldn't?"
I could have given her a list of names, but thought the better of it. Instead I sat back and began to listen to Gurahah's narrative of the events of the past fifty years or so. I was glad that at least some of my friends where still around. It made me sad to hear it, but it seemed that both Miranda and Kongol had gone to their graves long ago. In a way, I was glad that I had been in Ulara at the time. If I had been around to witness their passing I think that I may have gone mad with grief. But although their deaths struck me in the heart, I was startled that I now felt little remorse for their passing. What is the death of a human to an immortal?
I started. That wasn't right; where were these thoughts coming from? Kongol and Miranda had meant as much to me as any other friend I had ever had. Of course I felt sad they had gone. Their deaths meant nothing less than the deaths of Albert or Haschel or Shana. But it seemed to me that I did not feel it. There was no lump in my throat, no uncontrollable shaking of my limbs, no sick feeling in my stomach.
But perhaps worst of all, there were no tears.
Ooohh. are Dart's emotions starting to go down the tube as well? Poor guy, I think I'm ruining his life. Strange thing is, I'm enjoying every minute of it! Weird way of showing affection for your favorite characters, isn't it?
R-E-V-I-E-W- R-E-V-I-E-W- R-E-V-I-E-W- R-E-V-I-E-W- R-E-V-I-E-W- R-E-V-I-E- W
Dart only has the Darkness and the Violet spirits. The cultist that struck Albert down stole the Jade spirit, so Dart still has five left to find. That's my fault, because I made a typo the first time around and said four instead of five. It should be fixed by now. Gomen!
Ragnarok's POV:
I hate waiting for dawn. That may sound strange coming from one such as myself, but it's true. While Dart sleeps his mind and body become open to me, but out of courtesy I will not use it without his consent. Therefore the gap in time between sunset and daybreak becomes indeterminable. More so than normal though was I irked by this fact. The problem of the sailor Embren bothered me. Dart reasoned that even if he were going to try something, he wouldn't try it in the inn because dead bodies and unpaid room fees attract too much attention. I conceded to his point; however I was still mistrustful. It is not prudent to allow enemies to roam free while one sleeps, and I argued with myself about whether or not it would be wise to do something about it.
I touched Dart's mind briefly. Out like a light. The events of the last day and night had sapped away his strength all but completely and he still had not recovered. Absently I wondered how much sleep I should allow him. I would have preferred that we left this place before daylight and caught the next ship to Millie Seasue; that way we would be able to deal with both the sailor and be able to get away from the city with little or no questions asked. But it would be no good if Dart fell over the moment he got out of bed. I would just have to hope that he woke up early.
I turned my thoughts back to the problem of the cult. I had been hoping that we'd have been lucky enough to have killed most of them with that attack on Lidiera, but it seemed that they had become more widespread during our seventy year absence while we were in Ulara. And if the talk of the sailors on the Sea Hawk had any truth to it, then the cult had members in this town, if not an entire chapter. That worried me. It wouldn't have been so bad if it had only been one or two people. We could eliminate the influence of the cult with relatively no disturbance at all. But people would start to notice if suddenly a large portion of their community was found slaughtered inside what passed for their place of worship. Destroying the entire chapter of the cult in Fueno would quite possibly class as one of the greatest works of my life as of yet, but Dart had something against mass murder. And while he had come a long way in the last hundred years or so, he still had too many mercies I had to do away with. He was a decent partner now, but I would prefer someone a little bit more ruthless. We would have to do a fair amount of things in the future that would classify as atrocious in his mind, and I didn't want moralities getting in my way.
The cult still had five of the dragoon stones as well. Violet and darkness had been recovered, but I had a feeling that we would have to wrench the others from the dying grasp of the cultists. For some reason, the notion of doing that pleased me immensely. There's always a certain satisfaction involved when recovering something of value from a dead enemy, especially if you were the original owner in the first place.
Dart's POV:
I awoke in darkness a few hours before dawn. Ragnarok seemed anxious to get moving. I think that he thought my habit of oversleeping would cost him the opportunity for one of those back alley murders he enjoyed so much. At his urging, I dressed quickly and went downstairs. A sleepy-looking bar maid sat on a stool, talking quietly to the equally sleepy bar tender who was wiping off a large tarnished tankard. Without bothering to interrupt their conversation, I placed the remainder of my night's fees on the bar counter and left.
Outside it was cold and clear, the moon above lighting the streets and white buildings of Fueno with a silvery luminescence. A chill breeze blew off the sea, teasing the fabric covers of outdoor shops and causing them to flutter in the breeze. I frowned as that same wind caught my hair, stirring it into a bigger mess than it had been previously. I really needed to get another bandana. Pulling my coat closer around myself I started towards the harbor, the leather soles of my boots making little noise on the cobbled stone street.
The moonlight cast strange shadows in the streets, looming ominously from the corners of the buildings and in the depths of the narrow alleys in between. Ragnarok was unusually quiet as I walked, listening hard while I used my eyes. But despite this, the streets were silent and lifeless. In fact we were almost to the docks before anything happened at all.
//Behind you! Now!//
Without thinking I spun around, tearing my sword loose from its clasp on my belt and swung wide. The knife that had been thrown at my back deflected with a loud clang; it spun off harmlessly into the darkness, struck a wall, and fell to the stones with a clatter. Further up the street Embren stood staring at me in disbelief as he tried to form a plausible explanation as to how I could have known the knife was coming.
"Your eyes look a little bit wild, my friend," I told him politely. "I don't advise trying that again." I turned my back and continued down the street, but didn't put away my sword. The sailor would do one of two things; see the danger of the situation and take the opportunity to escape, or loose his head and attack my unprotected back.
Embren hesitated for a moment, but then pulled a heavy marlinespike from his belt and with a strangled cry lunged for my back. He was brought up short as I once again struck out with the flat of my blade, knocking him to the ground. Snarling, he rolled over but was prevented from getting up by the tip of my sword hovering an inch or so from his windpipe.
"You don't get it do you? I don't want to kill you." I said the words in hopes of calming him, but my sword arm remained steady.
"I'm sure," he spat furiously. "Did you say the same thing to my family before you burnt them, Monster? Or did you allow them to grovel on the ground before you and plead for mercy fist?" He clamped his mouth shut, glaring at me with eyes filled with an undeniable hatred. We remained that way for several minutes staring at one another, waiting for the other to back down.
Eventually the stalemate was broken as the sound of a ship's bell in the distance announced it was preparing for departure. Without breaking eye contact with Embren I lowered my sword. "I'm afraid I leave you here, friend. I have a ship to catch."
//WHAT?//
I ignored Ragnarok's outburst and clipped my sword back into my belt. Embren watched me incredulously. "What? So that you can slaughter more people? So that more will suffer the fate of Lidiera? I'll be dead before I ever allow that to happen!" He rolled to his feet and slashed out with his marlinespike. Ducking under the sharp iron spike, I knocked aside his arm and punched him solidly in the face. His head snapped back and he dropped like a stone, blood streaming from his nose. Catching him before he could strike the ground, I dragged him into the shadow of a doorway and let him down in an unceremonious heap. I turned to leave but then thought the better of it. Groping in the pocket of my coat for a moment, I pulled out a flask of liquor I had picked up last night at the inn. Uncorking the flask, I splashed the strong smelling liquid down Embren's front with no particular finesse. Leaving a bit of the drink in the flask, I slipped it into his hand and stepped back to admire my handiwork. To any casual observer he would seem like nothing more than a common drunkard and the stench of alcohol would help to discredit any story he might try to tell about me.
Ragnarok didn't approve of my answer to our problem with Embren. As far as he was concerned, the only way to leave someone behind without having to worry about them coming back to kill you later was to leave them dead in a gutter somewhere. Unfortunately, that was also his answer to many other of life's little problems. Normally he would have railed at me for doing something that he considered as stupid as this, but now he showed his displeasure with a frosty silence that actually chilled the back of my mind.
At the docks I found a small ship, The Star of Donneau, making ready to leave. After a brief haggling session with the ship's captain as to the price for passage to Millie Seasue, I climbed the gangplank and took what was starting to become my habitual place at the bow. The ship cast off just as the first rosy fingers of dawn had begun to touch the eastern sky, tingeing the horizon a pale purple-gray. Riding the sluggish waves out of the cove, the ship slipped out of sight of land and into the vast expanse of Illisa Bay.
The trip to Millie Seasue took considerably longer than the times I had ridden on the Queen Fury. Powered only by wind and sail, The Star of Donneau lacked the steam-powered engines of the larger warship. I guess the idea of using furnaces to power boats hadn't caught on yet. Or the means to build one at a reasonable cost had not yet been attained. Vaguely I wondered if the Queen Fury was still running, and if she was, if her Captain was as strange as Commodore Puller had been. I will admit that when I first met that man I was given a bad impression of seamen; since then I've found it necessary to revise my opinion quite often. Seamen aren't strange: Commodore Puller was.
Three days after we left Fueno we sailed into port in Furni. As I followed the group of laughing sailors down the gangplank, I looked with some surprise at their waterfront. Where a hundred years ago there had been nothing but an empty space for placing unloaded cargo there was now a large outdoor market crowded with people. Performers and charlatans where everywhere demonstrating their skill with what appeared to be magic, but were really no more than sleight of hand tricks. Still, the children watching squealed with delight whenever someone made something disappear or appeared to pull a flower out of thin air.
//There's winglies here// At some point in the voyage Ragnarok had started to speak to me again and was now making observations about the crowd every two minutes or so as I walked through.
/That's good. I was starting to wonder if any of them aside from Meru and Gurahaha would come out of the forests/ I bent over to examine a length of black cloth being displayed on a wooden rack amid bowls of beads and silk sashes.
//It seems that they have. Keep an eye out for cultists. They may be preaching around here somewhere// Ragnarok still seemed to be annoyed that he hadn't gotten his kill in lately. Fine by me. Killing a grief stricken man is one thing. Killing a raving fanatic out for my blood is a completely different story. I bought the cloth and looped it around my head once or twice. Satisfied that I had finally gotten back my bandana, I wove my way through the crowded marketplace towards an empty street. The waterways below where surprisingly devoid of boats; everybody seemed to be at the marketplace. I slipped into an alcove and leaned against a door to think for a moment. /We're here to try and stamp out this chapter of the cult, right?/
//Yes//
/How are we going to find them? It's not like they have a cathedral around here or anything/
//They probably don't have any specific place of worship// He thought about it for a moment. //Just stand around and look religionless. Sooner or later one of them will try to come along and try to convince you to join them//
/Is 'religionless' even a word?/
//Of course not. I made it up//
/Wow. I never knew dragons had such abilities with language/
//Let it lie, Dart//
/Fine/ I was trying to figure out how to look 'religionless' when the door behind me opened suddenly and a hand grabbed me by the shoulder, dragging me forcefully inside. Whoever it was spun me around and pushed me against a wall, hard. My head cracked painfully on the stones, causing stars to explode in my vision as I sank to the floor.
"Was that more or less what you had in mind?" A man asked from somewhere above me. His voice tugged at the edge of my memory, as though I should know him.
"Exactly! You did it perfectly Gurahah." Now there was a voice I would never forget. Shaking my head to clear my vision, I found myself staring full into Meru's beaming face. Her smile looked authentic, but the way she was holding her hammer suggested otherwise. Gurahah hovered in the background, red eyes watching me intently.
"Meru, what are you doing here?" I groaned, touching the back of my head gingerly. It was sore, but there didn't seem to be any real damage.
"Us? We came here for the festival. Why are you here?" Her tone was still deceptively cheery, but I noticed her grip tighten on the shaft of her hammer.
"Just passing through." I tried to sound convincing, but I could see she didn't buy it. I climbed slowly to my feet and dusted off my coat. "I have some business to do anyway."
"It wouldn't have anything to do with Lidiera, would it?" Gurahah's tone was neutral. I cursed inwardly. Had the word spread that fast?
"The destruction of Lidiera wasn't my fault," I told them. Meru started to object, but I held up my hand. "If everything had gone well I could have just gone in and killed the Moon Child without having to resort to any further violence. But that damn cult chose to interfere. I didn't have much hope except to level the place."
Meru and her husband exchanged glances. "D'ya mean that religious group that came out of Tiberoa about twenty years back?" Meru asked. "Run around in saintly white robes and proclaim Soa's love for us all in high-pitched voices? Try to convert anything that can stand up and breathe?"
"Those are the priests. The rest just mill about shouting evangelical slogans."
"They actually managed to get followers?" Gurahah's eyes narrowed. "I get the feeling that there's more to this story than you can tell us here." He turned to Meru. "We should go back to the forest anyhow. Your parents are going to start wondering what happened to us."
Meru bit her lip, torn between her curiosity and her urge to brain me with her hammer. Her curiosity must have won out, because she finally lowered her hammer and stuck out her tongue at me. "You're just lucky I haven't heard any good stories lately," she growled, trying unsuccessfully to sound menacing. She glared at me for a moment then broke into a grin, unable to keep a straight face. "Just don't kill anyone one the way there, promise?"
The Forest of the Winglies is one of the few remaining havens for winglies who do not wish to come into contact with humans. Since the seal to the forest may only be broken by a wingly, its residents were able to go the better part of the last eleven thousand years without being disturbed. Although inferior in comparison with the other wingly cities such as Ulara and Aglis, the magic found here is still like nothing humans have created as of yet.
We sat at a table in a green lighted room that I guess belonged to Gurahah. I had finished relating my story to them and now they sat in silence staring very hard at the grains of wood in the tabletop. I will admit that I was nervous. I couldn't afford to be detained any longer if I was going to hunt down all the cult chapters before the appearance of the next Moon Child, and if they didn't believe me then there was going to be trouble. Finally, Meru reached for an apple sitting in a bowl in the center of the table. "So lemmie get this straight. You've been possessed for the past hundred and eight years or so by the Divine Dragon?"
I flinched mentally and then nodded. People always had trouble digesting that part According to Ragnarok, it had taken him almost half an hour to convince Charle that it was not me talking, but him when he had first arrived in Ulara.
//Let me explain. Gurahah has good sense; I should be able to bring him around//
/Right/ I looked at Gurahah. "You don't believe me, do you."
"It is a little bit thin, Dart." He actually sounded apologetic.
I leaned forward. "Would you believe me if I were to prove it to you?"
"I'll believe almost anything if it can be proven," the wingly replied, but I thought he still sounded doubtful.
//Tell them to watch your eyes//
/Why? Do they change?/
//Enough. Now tell them//
I dutifully repeated the message. Gurahah leaned forward to stare at my eyes intently. "All right then, now what?"
I suddenly felt as though my awareness was shoved to the back of my mind. I could no longer control my body, but I still had access to my five senses. This must be where Ragnarok spent most of his time.
Across the table Gurahah had jumped back slightly when the switch had taken place. He blinked several times, as though to clear his vision, but didn't seem to have any noticeable success.
"Do you believe us now, Gurahah?" The voice that had come out of my mouth was not my own, but a low one with the slight undertone of something growling. Usually Ragnarok would disguise his voice so that it would sound like mine, but I guess that he had no reason for that now. "Or do you need some more proof? Would you like me to tell you in detail the events leading up to the first Dragon Campaign?"
"That won't be necessary," Gurahah replied quickly, sounding a little faint.
"Good. It's a rather tedious and involved story and I doubt you would enjoy several hours of boredom.
At the mention of the word 'boredom', Meru shuddered. "You got that right." She leaned back in her chair. "Umm, is the real Dart in the house?"
//That's a novel way to put it//
I pushed Ragnarok back. "I'm right here," I told her. "Now do you believe me?"
"Who wouldn't?"
I could have given her a list of names, but thought the better of it. Instead I sat back and began to listen to Gurahah's narrative of the events of the past fifty years or so. I was glad that at least some of my friends where still around. It made me sad to hear it, but it seemed that both Miranda and Kongol had gone to their graves long ago. In a way, I was glad that I had been in Ulara at the time. If I had been around to witness their passing I think that I may have gone mad with grief. But although their deaths struck me in the heart, I was startled that I now felt little remorse for their passing. What is the death of a human to an immortal?
I started. That wasn't right; where were these thoughts coming from? Kongol and Miranda had meant as much to me as any other friend I had ever had. Of course I felt sad they had gone. Their deaths meant nothing less than the deaths of Albert or Haschel or Shana. But it seemed to me that I did not feel it. There was no lump in my throat, no uncontrollable shaking of my limbs, no sick feeling in my stomach.
But perhaps worst of all, there were no tears.
Ooohh. are Dart's emotions starting to go down the tube as well? Poor guy, I think I'm ruining his life. Strange thing is, I'm enjoying every minute of it! Weird way of showing affection for your favorite characters, isn't it?
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