*A chibi-ized Ragnarok bounces past, holding up a sign reading 'Shade is a
lousy updater!'. Directly below this is a crossed out message (THIS IS
BENEATH MY DIGNATY!)
*drooling over a boxed set of Rurouni Kenshin DVD's on ebay* Neeehhhh.
Dart's POV:
I stared incredulously at the grinning wingly and the slightly abashed dragon standing before me for about a minute and a half before I even realized that Ark had shoved me to one side and was now in control. I almost objected, but bit my tongue at the last second. The chances of Ark actually listening to me when he was like this were next to none anyhow.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Ragnarok roared, trying unsuccessfully to climb to his feet. The paralysis hadn't quite worn out of my leg yet, I guess. "I thought I told you to stay in Ulara!"
"Actually, you never said-"
"Shut up! Do you think this is some sort of game?" Ragnarok fumed. "There's a reason Charle keeps you winglies penned up in that hanging garden!"
Garren shifted uncomfortably, but didn't back off. "What right does she have to do that? We're a free people! She shouldn't be allowed to do that. Why shouldn't we be allowed to go out into the world?"
With a massive effort, Ark managed to wrestle his voice back down to a reasonable volume. "Has it ever occurred to you," he said, gritting his teeth, "that the reason that taboo was set into place wasn't to protect your self, but the rest of the world?"
The wingly froze. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that Ulara hasn't forgotten the technology of the winglies before the Dragon Campaign. They know how to make the airships, the generators, and most importantly, the weapons. What do you think might happen if a human ever got his greedy little paws on all of that? By leaving Ulara, you've just opened up the possibility that someone might be able to through you find a way back to Ulara and catch hold of that technology. And-" Ark growled glaring over at Tygris, who was crouched in the shadow of a rock, trying to make himself as invisible as possible, "on top of all that, you've taken the cygnet's guardian away!"
"The cygnet will be fine! The cult isn't going to be able to even think about going after the cygnets while we're going after the-"
"Don't finish that sentence." Ark snapped. "Dart and I are going after the Moon Child. You are going straight back to Ulara with Tygris."
Now it was Garren's turn to glare. "If you think that I'm going to just give up and go back after I did all that work to get out of there, you have to be nuts. Ulara can guard itself; it has for thousands of years already anyhow. One wingly missing isn't going to make any difference. No one's going to find out anything about Ulara, because I'm not going to say a word. And the cygnet's fine on it's own. I don't even know where Charle hid it, and I've been looking for it ever since it came to Ulara."
They stood there for quite a while, staring each other down. I have to hand it to him. For someone who was almost afraid of Ragnarok when he first met him, Garren could certainly hold his own against Ark in a glaring contest.
Finally, after what seemed to be an interminable silence, I nudged Ark's mind. /We're wasting time/ I told him.
//I know, but I'm not letting him come with us!//
/Well what else can we do, really? We don't have time to run him back to Ulara, and if we leave him to go on his own, he'll just follow us/ When Ark said nothing, I sighed and rather forcefully pushed him to one side. "Garren, you're sure you want to come?"
//What?!//
Startled by the sudden switch, it took Garren a moment to respond. "Yeah. All we can do in Ulara is sit on the sidelines and cheer you on. I think that it's time that we actually bothered doing something." He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
"You sure? They don't train you to fight in Ulara."
"I've seen how you train. All you do is practice the same moves endlessly. Besides, how hard could fist fighting be?"
Thousands of miles away, I was quite sure I could feel Haschel rolling over in his grave. "Haschel would kill you if he heard you say that, you know that?"
Garren looked suddenly confused. "What do you mean?"
"Haschel trained and studied the martial arts of the Rogue School all his life, right up until the day he died, and even he was never able to completely master all the arts. Just because you can throw a punch, doesn't mean you know how to fight."
"Well, I still have magic to fall back on then." He pointed at the blackened corpse of the sand scorpion next to me. "If all else fails, I can always roast them."
//Fool. He's completely oblivious to the truths of fighting. It's all just a game to him//
/Isn't that all it is to you?/
//I'm different. It's a game I take very seriously//
"We'll have to figure something out when we get there," I said aloud. I rose slowly to my feet, keeping my weight on my good leg and leaning on my sword for balance. The paralisys was starting to wear off, but I still wouldn't be able to use my leg for a while yet. "How are you going to follow us? I'm not going to carry you, you know."
Behind Garren, Tygris stirred in the shadows. "I'll carry him." He rumbled.
"You sure? I move pretty fast once I'm in the air."
"I'm a Bird-Dragon," Tygris sniffed. "I may be slower than you in a dogfight, but in the air on a straight stretch, there's nothing I can't keep up with."
I smiled apologetically. "Sorry. All right then, we have to get to Bale for nightfall. They're going to have someone waiting for us, so we're going to have to get in there quietly. The fewer we have to kill, the better. The only ones we're after are the Moon Child and possibly some of the cult leaders, and a heavily populated city like Bale isn't a good place for a pitched battle with the entire chapter of the cult, as much as Ark would like to."
"An assassination?" Garren looked slightly shocked.
"That's what it amounts to, yes. Let's get moving. We don't have much time."
Ragnarok's POV:
I wasn't very pleased with Dart's choice in the matter, but I had to admit that he had a point. Garren would be coming with us whether we liked it or not, and he'd only cause more trouble for us if we couldn't keep an eye on him. At least this way we could keep him out of trouble.
Maybe.
We reached the mountains outside of Bale sometime after nightfall. After parting with Tygris, who I flatly demanded return to Ulara, we started towards the city. We managed to get inside just before the gates closed for the night, convincing the sentries that we were just ordinary travelers. Garren's clothing raised some eyebrows, but no questions were asked. Winglies always seem to make ordinary humans seem nervous, for some reason.
After picking up some plain clothes for Garren, Dart headed into the alleys near the waterfront. Seating himself or a rotting wooden crate, he pulled out a stone and began to whet his blade against it. /Where do you think the temple is that they were talking about?/
//Probably somewhere near the center of town. Temples always seem to be right where they can attract the most attention, although this one probably won't be very large// I glanced over at Garren, who stood rather nervously near the mouth of the alley. We'd picked him up a set of knuckles from the weapons shop that were to be worn over leather gloves. He ran his fingers over the ridge of steel on his right hand, trying to get used to the feel of them. //How do you think the kid will do?//
/I don't know. Why do you call him that? He's older than I am/
//Only in years. That boy's mentality stopped developing about the time he turned fifteen, I'm positive// It was the truth. Garren looked to be at least twenty or so, but it wasn't very often that he acted his true age. Of course, there aren't many out there that is able to act three hundred with any grace. //I hope for his sake that he can fight better than we think//
/You're not alone in that/ Dart fell silent, watching the lights from the town above play across his blade as he sharpened it. The spine chilling sound of the whetstone scraping along the edge of the glinting sword blade echoed through the alley, a grim promise of the violence yet to come.
When the blade was finally honed, Dart got to his feet and sheathed the weapon. "You ready?" He asked, glancing over at Garren. I thought that the wingly looked more than a little nervous, but he nodded. Following Dart, he slipped out into the lamplit street, their soft boots making almost no sound on the cobblestones.
It was surprisingly easy to find the temple. As I had thought it wasn't very large, although its small size did little to take away from its impressive appearance. Two great bonfires burned in deep pits outside of the dark paneled doors, their dancing flames casting flickering shadows over the marble sheathed walls and columns of the temple. The small courtyard was only partially lit; eerie shades of gray shifted over the stones. Standing guard, one on either side of the door, were two cultists dressed in the now-familiar black enameled armor. Slipping into the shadows of a shop across from the temple, Dart peered through the darkness at them. /Well, what do you think?/
//What do you mean "What do you think?"//
/Exactly that. If they're expecting us, why don't they have more men out here?/
//They can't. If they brought an army in here, it would catch the King's attention. No King, no matter how stupid, will let an unwarranted army within their walls// I paused, remembering the words of the priest from the dream. //Actually, I'm more curious about that 'Zen' that they were talking about. Those priests seemed to think that he might be a match for us// More than likely it was just another person bearing a dragoon stone, but one could never be too careful. No matter how powerful the Divine Armor was, a dragoon was still a dragoon. And in the confined space within the temple, it would be the smaller dragoon that would be at the advantage should it come down to a one on one fight.
Garren glanced over. "So how are we going to get past those guards?" He whispered. He stood a short distance behind Dart, a deep hood pulled up over his head to cover his silver hair.
Dart squinted through the darkness, taking a good look at the buildings on either side. "We can try to get in normally, but I don't think they'll let us in. You have to remember that they're expecting us." He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. "Give me a few minutes. I'm going to go through the shadows around the square and try to come up behind them. Then you walk across the square and try to enter the temple normally."
"What if they don't let me in?" Garren asked skeptically.
Dart half drew his sword meaningfully, then pushed it back. Then he slipped along the shadows of the buildings, slowly making his way around the courtyard towards the temple. /How long do you think this'll take?/ He asked. I didn't answer. The truth was, it all depended on whether or not we could kill the child before Zen arrived. If so, we could avoid the fight and get out of here. On the other hand, we could wait for Zen, fight him, and then I'd have an excuse to push Dart to take out this faction of the cult.
/Ark?/
//Quiet// We'd reached the shadows of the temple; Dart stood flattened against the marble pillar closest to the guard on the right. //Here comes the kid//
Garren made his way quickly across the square, looking behind him often as though he was afraid of being followed. When he came within thirty or forty feet of the temple he broke into a panicked run, stumbling often on the stones. As he neared the entrance, the guardsmen crossed their pikes, barricading the door. "Halt!"
//What does he think he's doing?//
Garren didn't exactly halt; he more collapsed into a blubbering heap at the guardsmen's feet, sobbing and mumbling something about Black Monsters and fire and death. All in all, the act looked rather convincing; real tears actually seemed to be streaming down his cheeks and his clothes were charred and burnt, probably from close contact with a wingly fireball. I thought he looked more pathetic than anything, sobbing all over the stones like that, but it did attract the guards' attention. I couldn't hear clearly what he was mumbling about, but from the guards reactions I guessed that it must have had something to do with the Black Monster.
//What is he doing?// I repeated, nudging Dart to catch his attention.
/I'm not sure, but it looks like he's hand feeding them a couple well crafted lies/
As I watched, the guards' faces gradually changed from surprised to frightened, and then open panic. After a short whispered conference with one another, they seized Garren by the arms and dragged him into the temple. He flopped along between them, still sobbing quietly. Just as they passed through the door though, he twisted his head around to look at us and grinned triumphantly.
/Well, who would have guessed/ Dart started, but trailed off. Padding over to the open door, he glanced in quickly before slipping through
//That kid knows how to act// I confirmed.
Garren's POV:
I was half carried-half dragged through the narrow halls of the small temple by the two guards, letting my head flop loosely on my neck in time with their hurried steps. Hurrying along as much as they could with my body burdening them, the two guards passed though a large room with a vaulted ceiling before passing into a side chamber that housed a long twisting staircase. At the top of the stairs was a long, dimly lit corridor. A few black robed servants trotted back and forth, mindlessly committed to whatever errands they happened to be running. Ignoring them, the two guards reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door. The room inside was a large, spacious chamber with stone buttresses bracing against the walls in the middle and at either end. Torches burned in sconces every few feet along the walls, guttering weakly in the slightly smoky air. The chamber was basically devoid of decoration, save a large elaborately carved marble statue resting against the wall that seemed to portray a tree, moon, and child joined into one being. The carving rested on a dais, before which stood a tall, balding man dressed in green and white robes prostrated himself. Three or four other men stood to one side, protectively surrounding a short woman cradling a bundle of white cloth in her plump arms. A sixth figure stood shrouded in a crimson robe in a corner, leaning almost nonchalantly against the wall.
"Lord Donovan! Your Grace!" The two guards came to an abrupt halt, banging their spear butts on the stone floor.
"Lord Donovan is praying!" One of the four green robes stepped angrily forward in our direction, glaring at the guards. "Why do you seek to disturb him?"
"But Lord Marrak-" The guard on my left faltered under the disapproving eye of the priest. He swallowed, then continued. "This man was attacked outside of Bale by the Black Monster!"
That caused a reaction. Donovan rose quickly to his feet, while the other remaining green robes muttered amongst themselves. Over in the corner, the figure in the red clock stirred slightly. The man I assumed must have been Marrak blanched, then quickly regained his composure. "What do you mean?" He barked. At his nod, the two guards dragged me before the statue and let me drop onto the hard floor. Stalking forward, the priest jerked me to my feet and caught my chin in one hand, forcing me to look down into his eyes. "What happened? Tell us!"
Taking a breath as if to calm myself, I quickly ran through my story in my head before relating it in a rushed, jumbled account. "I-I was travelling with my family from Seles, a-and we were passing though the Limestone Caves this evening when we were attacked!" I twitched nervously and shivered, letting my eyes dart from face to face. "We'd just passed through the exit when it just dropped out of the sky! I got out of there b- but m-my children and Angela-" I shuddered more violently, widening my eyes and shaking my head. That's right. Let them think I was out of my mind. They were bound to see through this sooner or later, but the more time I could give Dart to prepare and get in here the better. "Angela! Run! Take the children an- Arraaagghh!" I dropped to my knees, clutching my head in my hands.
Marrak started to drag me to my feet again, but stopped at a harsh word from Donovan. "Stop that. We have more important things to tend to. Someone quick, bar the doors!" At this one of the green men fled to the heavy double doors, barred them and backed away quickly, as though expecting for the thing to explode at any moment.
Beside me, Marrak turned to speak to the red cloaked figure in the corner. "Well, Zen? The time has come at last. Are you ready to protect your god?"
Zen shrugged off his cloak, letting it fall in crimson folds to the stones at his feet. Under the cloak he wore a mix of chain mail and a spiky black armor similar to the gear that the guards wore. Strapped across his back was a massive double handed broadsword, blackened by fire and smoke. Loosening the belts that held it in place, he drew it and held it out in front of him. "Always."
I remained where I was in a huddled heap on the floor, although my shoulders no longer shook with the effort of false tears. Rather carefully I wiped the wetness from my face with the sleeve of my shirt, being careful not to leave any trace of the tears. Reaching into the neck of my shirt, I pulled out the knuckles Dart had given me and slipped them onto my right hand over the leather glove. Flexing my hand a few times to get used to the feel of it, I tensed myself. Where was he? Had I given him enough time?
Apparently I had. There was a dull pounding on the door, followed by a pause and then the sound of splintering wood. The woman holding the child screamed and stumbled backward into one of the green robed men, sending them all to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Unable to help myself, I burst out into laughter at the sight. Somewhere within the tangle, the child started to cry.
Marrak wheeled about to face me, his face contorted grossly with rage. "You!" He snarled, pointing a shaking finger at my face. "You tricked us! Y-you-!" He struggled for words for a moment, but failing to find any lunged at me, hands extended before him like claws.
I guess I reacted out of reflex. The next thing I knew Marrak lay on the floor in front of me, eyes rolled back in his head and a thin trickle of blood running from his nose. For a full minute, no one moved, not even the hulking man in the corner that they had called Zen. I stared down at my fist in disbelief, vaguely aware of the dull ache at the root of my fingers where the brass had bit into my skin through the thick gloves. I glanced quickly at Marrak's still form, then back at my fist again. I had done that- with one hit?
"Garren! The door! Take the door!" Dart's voice reached my ears, slightly muffled by the door between us. The tip of the sword sticking thorough the door wiggled, then pulled back out of sight. A moment later it bit into the wood again, wrenching the small gouge farther open.
"Zen!" Donovan commanded, sweeping an imperious finger in my direction, "Kill him!"
With a grunt the man started towards me, swinging that massive sword in low, sweeping arcs to warm up his body. Stumbling backwards until my back was against the carved statue, I raised my right hand in front of me, palm up, and grasped my wrist tightly with my other hand. Blowing an errant strand of hair out of my eyes, I glanced sideways at Zen slowly advancing towards me and grinned. "Sorry buddy, but you don't have time for me right now. You've got an appointment with a rather pissed dragon who I know has been just dying to meet you." Summoning a portion of my strength into my outstretched palm, I hurled my fireball at the damaged door.
The door quite literally exploded outward in a shower of splinters, sparks, and smoke as the burning projectile impacted. Before the smoke had even cleared Dart shouldered his way through the shattered remains of the door, wings scraping the charred doorframe as he moved. Lunging forward with his cannon extended before him like a spear, he drove at the charging Zen, catching him across the back of the calf with the bladed end of the weapon. Zen stumbled hard and almost lost his balance, but managed to recover in time to spin about and catch Dart's blade against his own. They stood there for a moment, each man leaning against his sword and glaring at the other. For a moment time seemed to reach a standstill as they stood staring the other down amidst the smoke curling across the floor, then restarted as Zen wheeled away, preparing himself for a second strike.
Dart caught Zen's blow with the flat of his sword and pushed, sending the other man stumbling back a few paces. A hefty kick sent Zen crashing back into the wall, his stomach cut and bleeding from the taloned foot pieces of the Divine armor. He lay still for a moment or two, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, licking blood from a cut in his lip. Glancing sideways over to where Donovan huddled with the midwife and the remaining green robe behind a pillar, Zen smiled. "I have to thank you, Lord Donovan. It appears that after all this time, I may have finally found something that is worth fighting."
I don't think that Donovan really cared for Zen's thanks. He looked, to me at least, as though he was too busy trying to hide himself in the shadow of the voluminous midwife.
Zen laughed, then turned his attention back to Dart. "So you're the Black Monster, huh?"
"That's what they tell me."
"Hey, the dog can talk!" Zen laughed again as the blood began to bead up over the cut on the edge of his lip. "You should consider yourself honored, Blackie. I could care less about this utopia the child is supposed to bring us; I joined on just for the chance to fight you." He sighed theatrically. "Do you know how hard it can be to find a good fight these days? Not that you'd appreciate that, but you're going to die just the same."
"The biggest talkers are often the weakest fighters," Dart growled, raising his strange sword again. "Let's see if your skill can match your ego."
Zen's smile broke, but only for a moment. "You seem awfully sure of yourself," he said. Reaching into the breastplate of his armor, he pulled out what I recognized to be a dragoon spirit, emitting a feeble red glow in the torchlight. "You're in for a treat, Blackie." He held the stone up to his eye, the way I had seen the jewelers in Ulara do when assessing the value of a gemstone. "See this pretty stone? Donovan said that it is the soul of a dragon. Now I don't know about you, but I think that having this on my side swings the odds in my favor just a bit, hmm?" When Dart gave no response, he scowled. "I guess you're not as smart as I thought if you can't appreciate the power this little rock gives me." Holding it out in front of him, he watched as the thing began to glow brighter and brighter, until his body seemed to burst into flames.
It was then that two things happened. As the last of the armor formed over Zen's limbs and his newly acquired wings began to beat the air in a slow, steady rhythm, the Midwife made a break for the shattered door, the Moon Child in her arms. Dart unthinkingly started to follow, but Zen lunged forward, swinging his massive double blade at his opponent's exposed back. Dart managed to turn in time to absorb some of the blow, but the dragoon weapon still managed to bite deep into the armor. Blocking a second strike, Dart countered with a backhanded slash. "Garren! The Moon Child! Don't let them get away!"
It took a moment for his words to sink in before I understood. Dart couldn't do anything; Zen was only intended as a distraction, but he was an effective deadlock. That meant that I had to-
The midwife had almost reached the door. Gritting my teeth, I whipped back my arm, feeling the heat begin to consolidate into the palm of my hand. As that heat burst into flame, I hurled the fireball at my fleeing target.
One thing we do learn at Ulara is how to master our own magical skills. One of the techniques we practice extensively is fire shooting and throwing. I should tell you now that I was the best in my class.
Moving or still, I never miss.
Ba bang! Another chapter in the bag! I'm looking at about ten or eleven more before the end of part one, so sit tight. Yes, I do have an eventual plan for the whole series, I'm just taking my time getting there. -_-
*drooling over a boxed set of Rurouni Kenshin DVD's on ebay* Neeehhhh.
Dart's POV:
I stared incredulously at the grinning wingly and the slightly abashed dragon standing before me for about a minute and a half before I even realized that Ark had shoved me to one side and was now in control. I almost objected, but bit my tongue at the last second. The chances of Ark actually listening to me when he was like this were next to none anyhow.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Ragnarok roared, trying unsuccessfully to climb to his feet. The paralysis hadn't quite worn out of my leg yet, I guess. "I thought I told you to stay in Ulara!"
"Actually, you never said-"
"Shut up! Do you think this is some sort of game?" Ragnarok fumed. "There's a reason Charle keeps you winglies penned up in that hanging garden!"
Garren shifted uncomfortably, but didn't back off. "What right does she have to do that? We're a free people! She shouldn't be allowed to do that. Why shouldn't we be allowed to go out into the world?"
With a massive effort, Ark managed to wrestle his voice back down to a reasonable volume. "Has it ever occurred to you," he said, gritting his teeth, "that the reason that taboo was set into place wasn't to protect your self, but the rest of the world?"
The wingly froze. "What do you mean?"
"What I mean is that Ulara hasn't forgotten the technology of the winglies before the Dragon Campaign. They know how to make the airships, the generators, and most importantly, the weapons. What do you think might happen if a human ever got his greedy little paws on all of that? By leaving Ulara, you've just opened up the possibility that someone might be able to through you find a way back to Ulara and catch hold of that technology. And-" Ark growled glaring over at Tygris, who was crouched in the shadow of a rock, trying to make himself as invisible as possible, "on top of all that, you've taken the cygnet's guardian away!"
"The cygnet will be fine! The cult isn't going to be able to even think about going after the cygnets while we're going after the-"
"Don't finish that sentence." Ark snapped. "Dart and I are going after the Moon Child. You are going straight back to Ulara with Tygris."
Now it was Garren's turn to glare. "If you think that I'm going to just give up and go back after I did all that work to get out of there, you have to be nuts. Ulara can guard itself; it has for thousands of years already anyhow. One wingly missing isn't going to make any difference. No one's going to find out anything about Ulara, because I'm not going to say a word. And the cygnet's fine on it's own. I don't even know where Charle hid it, and I've been looking for it ever since it came to Ulara."
They stood there for quite a while, staring each other down. I have to hand it to him. For someone who was almost afraid of Ragnarok when he first met him, Garren could certainly hold his own against Ark in a glaring contest.
Finally, after what seemed to be an interminable silence, I nudged Ark's mind. /We're wasting time/ I told him.
//I know, but I'm not letting him come with us!//
/Well what else can we do, really? We don't have time to run him back to Ulara, and if we leave him to go on his own, he'll just follow us/ When Ark said nothing, I sighed and rather forcefully pushed him to one side. "Garren, you're sure you want to come?"
//What?!//
Startled by the sudden switch, it took Garren a moment to respond. "Yeah. All we can do in Ulara is sit on the sidelines and cheer you on. I think that it's time that we actually bothered doing something." He cracked his knuckles and grinned.
"You sure? They don't train you to fight in Ulara."
"I've seen how you train. All you do is practice the same moves endlessly. Besides, how hard could fist fighting be?"
Thousands of miles away, I was quite sure I could feel Haschel rolling over in his grave. "Haschel would kill you if he heard you say that, you know that?"
Garren looked suddenly confused. "What do you mean?"
"Haschel trained and studied the martial arts of the Rogue School all his life, right up until the day he died, and even he was never able to completely master all the arts. Just because you can throw a punch, doesn't mean you know how to fight."
"Well, I still have magic to fall back on then." He pointed at the blackened corpse of the sand scorpion next to me. "If all else fails, I can always roast them."
//Fool. He's completely oblivious to the truths of fighting. It's all just a game to him//
/Isn't that all it is to you?/
//I'm different. It's a game I take very seriously//
"We'll have to figure something out when we get there," I said aloud. I rose slowly to my feet, keeping my weight on my good leg and leaning on my sword for balance. The paralisys was starting to wear off, but I still wouldn't be able to use my leg for a while yet. "How are you going to follow us? I'm not going to carry you, you know."
Behind Garren, Tygris stirred in the shadows. "I'll carry him." He rumbled.
"You sure? I move pretty fast once I'm in the air."
"I'm a Bird-Dragon," Tygris sniffed. "I may be slower than you in a dogfight, but in the air on a straight stretch, there's nothing I can't keep up with."
I smiled apologetically. "Sorry. All right then, we have to get to Bale for nightfall. They're going to have someone waiting for us, so we're going to have to get in there quietly. The fewer we have to kill, the better. The only ones we're after are the Moon Child and possibly some of the cult leaders, and a heavily populated city like Bale isn't a good place for a pitched battle with the entire chapter of the cult, as much as Ark would like to."
"An assassination?" Garren looked slightly shocked.
"That's what it amounts to, yes. Let's get moving. We don't have much time."
Ragnarok's POV:
I wasn't very pleased with Dart's choice in the matter, but I had to admit that he had a point. Garren would be coming with us whether we liked it or not, and he'd only cause more trouble for us if we couldn't keep an eye on him. At least this way we could keep him out of trouble.
Maybe.
We reached the mountains outside of Bale sometime after nightfall. After parting with Tygris, who I flatly demanded return to Ulara, we started towards the city. We managed to get inside just before the gates closed for the night, convincing the sentries that we were just ordinary travelers. Garren's clothing raised some eyebrows, but no questions were asked. Winglies always seem to make ordinary humans seem nervous, for some reason.
After picking up some plain clothes for Garren, Dart headed into the alleys near the waterfront. Seating himself or a rotting wooden crate, he pulled out a stone and began to whet his blade against it. /Where do you think the temple is that they were talking about?/
//Probably somewhere near the center of town. Temples always seem to be right where they can attract the most attention, although this one probably won't be very large// I glanced over at Garren, who stood rather nervously near the mouth of the alley. We'd picked him up a set of knuckles from the weapons shop that were to be worn over leather gloves. He ran his fingers over the ridge of steel on his right hand, trying to get used to the feel of them. //How do you think the kid will do?//
/I don't know. Why do you call him that? He's older than I am/
//Only in years. That boy's mentality stopped developing about the time he turned fifteen, I'm positive// It was the truth. Garren looked to be at least twenty or so, but it wasn't very often that he acted his true age. Of course, there aren't many out there that is able to act three hundred with any grace. //I hope for his sake that he can fight better than we think//
/You're not alone in that/ Dart fell silent, watching the lights from the town above play across his blade as he sharpened it. The spine chilling sound of the whetstone scraping along the edge of the glinting sword blade echoed through the alley, a grim promise of the violence yet to come.
When the blade was finally honed, Dart got to his feet and sheathed the weapon. "You ready?" He asked, glancing over at Garren. I thought that the wingly looked more than a little nervous, but he nodded. Following Dart, he slipped out into the lamplit street, their soft boots making almost no sound on the cobblestones.
It was surprisingly easy to find the temple. As I had thought it wasn't very large, although its small size did little to take away from its impressive appearance. Two great bonfires burned in deep pits outside of the dark paneled doors, their dancing flames casting flickering shadows over the marble sheathed walls and columns of the temple. The small courtyard was only partially lit; eerie shades of gray shifted over the stones. Standing guard, one on either side of the door, were two cultists dressed in the now-familiar black enameled armor. Slipping into the shadows of a shop across from the temple, Dart peered through the darkness at them. /Well, what do you think?/
//What do you mean "What do you think?"//
/Exactly that. If they're expecting us, why don't they have more men out here?/
//They can't. If they brought an army in here, it would catch the King's attention. No King, no matter how stupid, will let an unwarranted army within their walls// I paused, remembering the words of the priest from the dream. //Actually, I'm more curious about that 'Zen' that they were talking about. Those priests seemed to think that he might be a match for us// More than likely it was just another person bearing a dragoon stone, but one could never be too careful. No matter how powerful the Divine Armor was, a dragoon was still a dragoon. And in the confined space within the temple, it would be the smaller dragoon that would be at the advantage should it come down to a one on one fight.
Garren glanced over. "So how are we going to get past those guards?" He whispered. He stood a short distance behind Dart, a deep hood pulled up over his head to cover his silver hair.
Dart squinted through the darkness, taking a good look at the buildings on either side. "We can try to get in normally, but I don't think they'll let us in. You have to remember that they're expecting us." He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. "Give me a few minutes. I'm going to go through the shadows around the square and try to come up behind them. Then you walk across the square and try to enter the temple normally."
"What if they don't let me in?" Garren asked skeptically.
Dart half drew his sword meaningfully, then pushed it back. Then he slipped along the shadows of the buildings, slowly making his way around the courtyard towards the temple. /How long do you think this'll take?/ He asked. I didn't answer. The truth was, it all depended on whether or not we could kill the child before Zen arrived. If so, we could avoid the fight and get out of here. On the other hand, we could wait for Zen, fight him, and then I'd have an excuse to push Dart to take out this faction of the cult.
/Ark?/
//Quiet// We'd reached the shadows of the temple; Dart stood flattened against the marble pillar closest to the guard on the right. //Here comes the kid//
Garren made his way quickly across the square, looking behind him often as though he was afraid of being followed. When he came within thirty or forty feet of the temple he broke into a panicked run, stumbling often on the stones. As he neared the entrance, the guardsmen crossed their pikes, barricading the door. "Halt!"
//What does he think he's doing?//
Garren didn't exactly halt; he more collapsed into a blubbering heap at the guardsmen's feet, sobbing and mumbling something about Black Monsters and fire and death. All in all, the act looked rather convincing; real tears actually seemed to be streaming down his cheeks and his clothes were charred and burnt, probably from close contact with a wingly fireball. I thought he looked more pathetic than anything, sobbing all over the stones like that, but it did attract the guards' attention. I couldn't hear clearly what he was mumbling about, but from the guards reactions I guessed that it must have had something to do with the Black Monster.
//What is he doing?// I repeated, nudging Dart to catch his attention.
/I'm not sure, but it looks like he's hand feeding them a couple well crafted lies/
As I watched, the guards' faces gradually changed from surprised to frightened, and then open panic. After a short whispered conference with one another, they seized Garren by the arms and dragged him into the temple. He flopped along between them, still sobbing quietly. Just as they passed through the door though, he twisted his head around to look at us and grinned triumphantly.
/Well, who would have guessed/ Dart started, but trailed off. Padding over to the open door, he glanced in quickly before slipping through
//That kid knows how to act// I confirmed.
Garren's POV:
I was half carried-half dragged through the narrow halls of the small temple by the two guards, letting my head flop loosely on my neck in time with their hurried steps. Hurrying along as much as they could with my body burdening them, the two guards passed though a large room with a vaulted ceiling before passing into a side chamber that housed a long twisting staircase. At the top of the stairs was a long, dimly lit corridor. A few black robed servants trotted back and forth, mindlessly committed to whatever errands they happened to be running. Ignoring them, the two guards reached the end of the hall and pushed open the door. The room inside was a large, spacious chamber with stone buttresses bracing against the walls in the middle and at either end. Torches burned in sconces every few feet along the walls, guttering weakly in the slightly smoky air. The chamber was basically devoid of decoration, save a large elaborately carved marble statue resting against the wall that seemed to portray a tree, moon, and child joined into one being. The carving rested on a dais, before which stood a tall, balding man dressed in green and white robes prostrated himself. Three or four other men stood to one side, protectively surrounding a short woman cradling a bundle of white cloth in her plump arms. A sixth figure stood shrouded in a crimson robe in a corner, leaning almost nonchalantly against the wall.
"Lord Donovan! Your Grace!" The two guards came to an abrupt halt, banging their spear butts on the stone floor.
"Lord Donovan is praying!" One of the four green robes stepped angrily forward in our direction, glaring at the guards. "Why do you seek to disturb him?"
"But Lord Marrak-" The guard on my left faltered under the disapproving eye of the priest. He swallowed, then continued. "This man was attacked outside of Bale by the Black Monster!"
That caused a reaction. Donovan rose quickly to his feet, while the other remaining green robes muttered amongst themselves. Over in the corner, the figure in the red clock stirred slightly. The man I assumed must have been Marrak blanched, then quickly regained his composure. "What do you mean?" He barked. At his nod, the two guards dragged me before the statue and let me drop onto the hard floor. Stalking forward, the priest jerked me to my feet and caught my chin in one hand, forcing me to look down into his eyes. "What happened? Tell us!"
Taking a breath as if to calm myself, I quickly ran through my story in my head before relating it in a rushed, jumbled account. "I-I was travelling with my family from Seles, a-and we were passing though the Limestone Caves this evening when we were attacked!" I twitched nervously and shivered, letting my eyes dart from face to face. "We'd just passed through the exit when it just dropped out of the sky! I got out of there b- but m-my children and Angela-" I shuddered more violently, widening my eyes and shaking my head. That's right. Let them think I was out of my mind. They were bound to see through this sooner or later, but the more time I could give Dart to prepare and get in here the better. "Angela! Run! Take the children an- Arraaagghh!" I dropped to my knees, clutching my head in my hands.
Marrak started to drag me to my feet again, but stopped at a harsh word from Donovan. "Stop that. We have more important things to tend to. Someone quick, bar the doors!" At this one of the green men fled to the heavy double doors, barred them and backed away quickly, as though expecting for the thing to explode at any moment.
Beside me, Marrak turned to speak to the red cloaked figure in the corner. "Well, Zen? The time has come at last. Are you ready to protect your god?"
Zen shrugged off his cloak, letting it fall in crimson folds to the stones at his feet. Under the cloak he wore a mix of chain mail and a spiky black armor similar to the gear that the guards wore. Strapped across his back was a massive double handed broadsword, blackened by fire and smoke. Loosening the belts that held it in place, he drew it and held it out in front of him. "Always."
I remained where I was in a huddled heap on the floor, although my shoulders no longer shook with the effort of false tears. Rather carefully I wiped the wetness from my face with the sleeve of my shirt, being careful not to leave any trace of the tears. Reaching into the neck of my shirt, I pulled out the knuckles Dart had given me and slipped them onto my right hand over the leather glove. Flexing my hand a few times to get used to the feel of it, I tensed myself. Where was he? Had I given him enough time?
Apparently I had. There was a dull pounding on the door, followed by a pause and then the sound of splintering wood. The woman holding the child screamed and stumbled backward into one of the green robed men, sending them all to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Unable to help myself, I burst out into laughter at the sight. Somewhere within the tangle, the child started to cry.
Marrak wheeled about to face me, his face contorted grossly with rage. "You!" He snarled, pointing a shaking finger at my face. "You tricked us! Y-you-!" He struggled for words for a moment, but failing to find any lunged at me, hands extended before him like claws.
I guess I reacted out of reflex. The next thing I knew Marrak lay on the floor in front of me, eyes rolled back in his head and a thin trickle of blood running from his nose. For a full minute, no one moved, not even the hulking man in the corner that they had called Zen. I stared down at my fist in disbelief, vaguely aware of the dull ache at the root of my fingers where the brass had bit into my skin through the thick gloves. I glanced quickly at Marrak's still form, then back at my fist again. I had done that- with one hit?
"Garren! The door! Take the door!" Dart's voice reached my ears, slightly muffled by the door between us. The tip of the sword sticking thorough the door wiggled, then pulled back out of sight. A moment later it bit into the wood again, wrenching the small gouge farther open.
"Zen!" Donovan commanded, sweeping an imperious finger in my direction, "Kill him!"
With a grunt the man started towards me, swinging that massive sword in low, sweeping arcs to warm up his body. Stumbling backwards until my back was against the carved statue, I raised my right hand in front of me, palm up, and grasped my wrist tightly with my other hand. Blowing an errant strand of hair out of my eyes, I glanced sideways at Zen slowly advancing towards me and grinned. "Sorry buddy, but you don't have time for me right now. You've got an appointment with a rather pissed dragon who I know has been just dying to meet you." Summoning a portion of my strength into my outstretched palm, I hurled my fireball at the damaged door.
The door quite literally exploded outward in a shower of splinters, sparks, and smoke as the burning projectile impacted. Before the smoke had even cleared Dart shouldered his way through the shattered remains of the door, wings scraping the charred doorframe as he moved. Lunging forward with his cannon extended before him like a spear, he drove at the charging Zen, catching him across the back of the calf with the bladed end of the weapon. Zen stumbled hard and almost lost his balance, but managed to recover in time to spin about and catch Dart's blade against his own. They stood there for a moment, each man leaning against his sword and glaring at the other. For a moment time seemed to reach a standstill as they stood staring the other down amidst the smoke curling across the floor, then restarted as Zen wheeled away, preparing himself for a second strike.
Dart caught Zen's blow with the flat of his sword and pushed, sending the other man stumbling back a few paces. A hefty kick sent Zen crashing back into the wall, his stomach cut and bleeding from the taloned foot pieces of the Divine armor. He lay still for a moment or two, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, licking blood from a cut in his lip. Glancing sideways over to where Donovan huddled with the midwife and the remaining green robe behind a pillar, Zen smiled. "I have to thank you, Lord Donovan. It appears that after all this time, I may have finally found something that is worth fighting."
I don't think that Donovan really cared for Zen's thanks. He looked, to me at least, as though he was too busy trying to hide himself in the shadow of the voluminous midwife.
Zen laughed, then turned his attention back to Dart. "So you're the Black Monster, huh?"
"That's what they tell me."
"Hey, the dog can talk!" Zen laughed again as the blood began to bead up over the cut on the edge of his lip. "You should consider yourself honored, Blackie. I could care less about this utopia the child is supposed to bring us; I joined on just for the chance to fight you." He sighed theatrically. "Do you know how hard it can be to find a good fight these days? Not that you'd appreciate that, but you're going to die just the same."
"The biggest talkers are often the weakest fighters," Dart growled, raising his strange sword again. "Let's see if your skill can match your ego."
Zen's smile broke, but only for a moment. "You seem awfully sure of yourself," he said. Reaching into the breastplate of his armor, he pulled out what I recognized to be a dragoon spirit, emitting a feeble red glow in the torchlight. "You're in for a treat, Blackie." He held the stone up to his eye, the way I had seen the jewelers in Ulara do when assessing the value of a gemstone. "See this pretty stone? Donovan said that it is the soul of a dragon. Now I don't know about you, but I think that having this on my side swings the odds in my favor just a bit, hmm?" When Dart gave no response, he scowled. "I guess you're not as smart as I thought if you can't appreciate the power this little rock gives me." Holding it out in front of him, he watched as the thing began to glow brighter and brighter, until his body seemed to burst into flames.
It was then that two things happened. As the last of the armor formed over Zen's limbs and his newly acquired wings began to beat the air in a slow, steady rhythm, the Midwife made a break for the shattered door, the Moon Child in her arms. Dart unthinkingly started to follow, but Zen lunged forward, swinging his massive double blade at his opponent's exposed back. Dart managed to turn in time to absorb some of the blow, but the dragoon weapon still managed to bite deep into the armor. Blocking a second strike, Dart countered with a backhanded slash. "Garren! The Moon Child! Don't let them get away!"
It took a moment for his words to sink in before I understood. Dart couldn't do anything; Zen was only intended as a distraction, but he was an effective deadlock. That meant that I had to-
The midwife had almost reached the door. Gritting my teeth, I whipped back my arm, feeling the heat begin to consolidate into the palm of my hand. As that heat burst into flame, I hurled the fireball at my fleeing target.
One thing we do learn at Ulara is how to master our own magical skills. One of the techniques we practice extensively is fire shooting and throwing. I should tell you now that I was the best in my class.
Moving or still, I never miss.
Ba bang! Another chapter in the bag! I'm looking at about ten or eleven more before the end of part one, so sit tight. Yes, I do have an eventual plan for the whole series, I'm just taking my time getting there. -_-