Diiirrrrrrrr - Tish! Boom! **dances about happily hugging Meteora**
Just a quick question/note here: It's gotten into my head here that I'm juggling more plot than I can conveniently plug into the main story. I'd like to try adding in a few side stories. They would have to be much shorter than the regular chapters, but would help, I think, to better explain what is going on, or at least give the reader a better feel for some characters that although may or may not be important later on but that I wouldn't otherwise have the time to really develop. This might deal with one of the dragons (other than Arkie), some of the cultists, or a wingly. It's just something I'd like to experiment with, but I thought I'd get the opinion of you guys first because, after all, you guys are the ones putting up with my writing. ^-^ So just tell me what you think. The first side story wouldn't come for a chapter or two yet, so if you like or disapprove of the idea, you have plenty of time to tell me.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled plot.
~Flashback~
Dart's POV:
"Excuse me, sir?"
I jumped, snapping out of my daze. A serving girl stood over me, looking at me with a slightly exasperated expression. "Sorry. Just chilled ale, thanks." I watched for a moment as she swept away without another word, disappearing behind the low bar as she reached for some sort of drink or another. Disinterested, I dropped my eyes back to the peanut shell covered floor of the bar and went back to my thoughts.
It had been almost fifty years since the assault on the Temple in Bale. On the whole, I still wasn't sure if I was satisfied with the way things had turned out. Yes, Garren had managed to take out the Moon Child, and I had managed to win back the spirit of the red-eye dragoon, but Zen's death had brought about something completely unexpected.
~I stood over Zen's fallen body, chest heaving from the exertion of the fight. A thin stream of blood ran down my neck, leaking from the gash Zen's blade had opened down the right side of my face. Taking a half-step forward, I reached down and carefully lifted the stone from where it sat in a hollow in Zen's pitted armor. Clenching it tightly in my fist, I looked over at Garren. He stood with his hand still outstretched, staring in disbelief at the results of his handiwork. I'd have to talk to him about his afterwards, before he slipped into shock. Hopefully, the pain of taking a life would be enough to convince him that it would be better for him if he stayed in Ulara in the future. To tell the truth, I would much rather he didn't have to stain his hands in this way. I started towards him, but before I could reach him, the sound of footsteps caught my attention.
Donovan stood in the shattered ruins of the door, slowly taking in the aftermath of the conflict. His eyes were sad, even teary, but when they fell on me they held only an undeniable hatred. He restrained himself from speaking to us, but when he spoke it was as though he was addressing a hoard of people.
"On this night, the twenty first day of a new spring, in the temple of the Moon Child in the city of Bale, three of our own have fallen. Among them was the blessed Moon Child, whose presence could only bring light and hope of a better existence into this world. The second was the guardian monk Zenth, who lay down his life in hopes of giving his master a chance to escape. Though his efforts were in vain, let the actions of this martyr never be forgotten. He lay down his life to pave the way to a new world, a way that is now our responsibility to follow and protect."~
I sighed and touched the thin scar running down my cheek as the serving maid handed me my mug and left without a word. We'd known that there were part winglies in the world, but it had never occurred to us that Donovan might be one of them. The abilities of half-breeds were usually quite weak, but it appeared that the cult leader had spent many years developing them, such to the point that he could cast a spell that would make his words known to all, even if they were not physically present when he spoke them. I had thought that when he'd spoken that night it had simply been a rambling brought on by the shock of losing such as he did, but a few weeks later I realized my assumption had been very wrong. Tygris had left for Ulara, and Garren and I had just reached the small coastal village of Kalla when we started to hear talk of the 'martyr'. I guess the Moon Cult was using Zen's name to build up a greater following for themselves, spreading the news that Soa had favored them by sending the dragon warriors to combat the Black Monster and to protect and guide the Moon Child. I found it funny that they failed to mention that they only had two stones left, but let it be.
Garren plunked down into the chair next to me. "Drunk yet?" Even after all that had happened in Bale, Garren had remained with us. I wasn't quite sure why: the man despised the killing of almost everything- unless that something had to do with his next meal.
//He seems happy today. Ask him where he's been// Despite his previous assertion that he didn't care about the taboos of Ulara, Ragnarok liked to keep as close an eye as possible on the energetic wingly at all times. I guess the whole idea of some petty king running around with the weapons from the Dragon Campaign was more than just a little unsettling to him.
"Not really. I don't feel like drinking much today, for some reason." I took a cautious sip of the ale, then set it down and pushed it away. "What have you been up to?"
Absently, Garren grabbed my tankard and took a long draught. "Just looking around. There's so many things to see in Lohan." Grinning, he set the ale down again. "Despite everything, I still think leaving home was the best thing that ever happened to me."
Ragnarok grumbled, but privately I agreed with Garren. Before we'd left, he'd had the soft appearance of someone who'd never had to perform any sort of strenuous work in his life. Now he had a more sculpted look to his muscles, a result of crisscrossing Serdio and Tiberoa on foot several times over the past fifty years or so. His fighting skills had improved vastly; he'd never be on the same level as Haschel, certainly, but he definitely was more than adept with his fists. His skin had tanned a deep gold-brown colour that made his silver hair seem alarmingly pale in comparison. He had long since discarded the outdated outfit he'd worn in Ulara; instead he now wore a plain sleeveless white shirt and loose pants. Taking another quaff from the tankard, he drained it and set it down with a thump on the table. "If you were planning on going outside at anytime soon, you might want to wander down to where the temple is. Would you believe that they have one of their monks outside preaching? And that people are actually listening to that crap?"
//It's not that surprising, if you think about it// Ark reminded me. //If the cult's going to be able to protect the Moon Child from us, they're going to need more support. I wouldn't be surprised if they're planning to overthrow the main religions of Endiness//
I pushed back my chair and got to my feet. "I probably should go outside for a bit," I admitted. Actually, I hadn't been outside in three or four days; the need for fresh air was starting to get to me. "What sort of stuff is this monk going on about?"
"The usual nonsense. A bunch of rubbish about the old stories and utopias and Soa's favor shining on their purpose. They mentioned Zen once or twice. I think they're trying to make that idiot out as a saint rather than just a martyr." Garren settled back into his chair and waved at the serving maid to get her attention. "I wouldn't bother going right now; the monk's finished his sermon for now. He's supposed to be doing another one tonight though."
"I think I'll look around for a while, just the same." We'd been in Lohan for more than a week already, but as in any commercial town, it was always filled with intrigue. Even just by wandering though the streets and listening to casual conversation, one could learn news from just about every corner of the continent.
Slipping out the door and into the narrow, crowded streets, I glanced up at the sun. About mid-afternoon. I still had about five or six hours to kill before the cultists started up with their false sermons again. Slipping into the crowd I wandered aimlessly, listening to the merchants hawking their goods in loud obnoxious voices.
//I hate human cities. At least the winglies felt some need for decorum// Ark said distastefully as two brawlers rolled through the door of a nearby tavern and into the street, to the cheers of some of the more enthusiastic onlookers. We were forced to wait until the pair beat each other into insensibility and was dragged back into the tavern by a distressed looking bartender before we could pass.
/I thought you like fighting/
//Not that kind of fighting. Why is it that you humans feel the pressing need to get drunk, anyhow?//
/I'm not sure/ I responded, stepping around a hassled looking mother trying to control two hyperactive children at once. /A way to pass the time when we're bored, I guess. Some people find it fun/
//What's so entertaining about headaches and throwing up?//
/Nothing really. Actually, the real pain is when you get so drunk you lose track of what day it is/ I stopped to examine a shelf of sweetmeats sold by a florid young man dressed in an obnoxious orange robe. /Ask Garren sometime. I'm sure he managed to do it once or twice in the last three hundred years or so/ I decided that the sweetmeats didn't look that appetizing, so I moved on. Ducking around a crowd of jabbering young women, I mounted the rickety stairs that led to the upper levels of the city.
I just reached the top of the stairs when a hubbub broke out nearby. Two men had seized a struggling young girl by the arms and wrested her to the ground, but not easily. The girl appeared to be putting up a good fight, kicking one man in the kneecap and biting the other on the knuckles. A crowd had started to gather around to watch the display.
"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!" The girl cried, desperately trying to break free of her captor's grip. "You got the wrong person!"
"Yeah, right." One of the two men growled, tightening his grip. "I saw you last week, stealing jewelry from my brother's stand. You know what the penalty is for stealing."
"No!" The girl cried, struggling even more. "No! You can't-"
"Just watch us," the man's companion smirked. "You thieves get away with far too much. It's not our place to decide your punishment, but the town guard will probably agree: the best way to stop a thief from stealing is to take away the tools of their trade."
After the girl had been dragged off, I wandered over to where a young couple sat on a doorstep, where they had watched the whole scene. "What was that all about?" I asked.
The man glanced at me, startled. "You must not be from around here," he said. "You see that all the time now. Damn Thieves Guild has gotten out of control."
"Thieves Guild?"
"Bunch of jokers who can't be bothered to work for a living. They've always been around, but a few years ago they started to become more active." The man made a disgusted face. "As you can see, they've even begun to attract children into their ranks. It's become so bad lately that the Knighthood stationed here had to take steps."
"You mean the 'punishment' they were talking about?"
The man's wife nodded. "I must say, the penalty is a harsh one for one such as that child to pay. If she's lucky, maybe Sir Tayne, the head of the knighthood will take pity on her and let her off easy."
"What will they do?"
"Think about it." The man said. "When you get right down to it, there's only one effective way to stop a thief from stealing without killing them."
"You're not serious! She's only a child!" I exploded.
//It makes sense. A thief without hands would have a very hard time stealing things//
/Yes, but it would screw up just about every other aspect of her life as well! How can you expect a child to go through life without their hands?/ I stalked away from the couple without another word, still muttering and grumbling to myself.
Several hours later, I found myself still worrying over the matter of the young girl.
//Give it up Dart// Ark said in a tired tone. //If they'd done something about her, you would have heard her screaming. They probably just let her go//
/Maybe/ I said, but I didn't really believe it. The moralities of the knighthood hadn't seemed to change that much since Lavitz's day, but according to the public, the rein they tried to keep on breaklaws grew shorter by the day. /I think that we should start to head over to the temple now/ I said, changing the subject and glancing up at the darkening sky above us. The street merchants had begun to light their lamps, sending flickering shadows against the walls of the buildings lining the narrow avenues. Here and there the members of the knighthood could be seen, standing in the shadows of doorframes or leaning on their spears near the shops. Overhead the sky was becoming steadily more overcast; dark, threatening clouds could just be seen scudding slowly through the twilight. Somewhere off in the distance, thunder rumbled sullenly.
Leaving the streets and slipping through an open doorway, I wove my way through the maze of shops and storerooms that make up the beehive like buildings belonging to the merchant class of Lohan, slowly making my way through to the rooftops. Above the streetlights, the only breaks in the darkness came through the panes of glass in the loft windows in the upper floors of the apartments. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid any shingles that may have become loosened by the weather. More than a few times I slipped, and once I almost slid off the roof entirely, but managed to save myself at the last moment. Ragnarok took this opportunity to berate me for my clumsiness, not quieting down until we'd reached the rooftop nearest the temple.
Glancing over the lip of the roof, I was surprised at what I saw. The square below was filled to overflowing with people of all classes and nationalities. In a town such as Lohan the latter was to be expected, but I hadn't thought that this many people were buying into this crap. Seating myself on the edge of the roof, I shook my head. /This isn't good/
//I know// Ark's voice was grim. //If the cult has gained this much support, we're going to have to take some steps//
Further opportunity for conversation was cut off as a young man dressed in the familiar green robes pushed open the temple doors and stood at the top of the steps, lifting his hand for silence. Almost immediately the crowd's clamor ceased as all eyes turned to look upon the monk. Smiling broadly, he raised both arms and delivered the ritual benediction in one of the old tongues of Endiness. He paused while the crowd echoed his words, then set to work.
/He's just repeating the same crap that they've been preaching for the past two hundred years or so/ I said after listening to the gesticulating monk ramble on for about half an hour or so. /It's nothing out of the ordinary. So why are people flocking to him like this?/
//It's the words he's using// Ark said testily. //Yes, he's repeating the same old ideas, but listen to him speak. It's not his ideals that are causing the crowd to hang on his every word like this, but his eloquence. He's using flowery speech to beautify and rejuvenate a tired out subject//
/Whatever it is, it's working/ I said, watching the rapt faces of the crowd. /He's got them wrapped around his little finger like a piece of thread/
Ragnarok watched as down below the monk worked his speech up to its climax, waving both arms erratically in the air and speaking with a loud, passionate voice. Even from the distance we sat, there was no way that we could miss the fanatical light burning in his eyes. As the light began to catch into the crowd, Ragnarok growled //He's dangerous//
/No kidding. They'd assault the gates of Hell itself if he told them to right now/
//Hush. I think he must have saved up all his feelings about us for last. Here he goes//
Below, the young monk dropped his voice so low that I had to actually strain to catch his words, even though the square was dead silent. "But, my brothers and sisters, as always there is one thing that shall forever stand in the way of our Utopia. For as all know, it is the sins of mankind that stay Soa from delivering paradise into our hands. The sins we have all committed, yes, even I, shall weigh us down and keep us, like sulking children, from ever receiving the paradise from the hands of the blessed Moon Child- unless we can repent!" Here he paused and dabbed sweat from his brow with his sleeve. When he seemed positive that the crowd was holding his breath for his next words, he lifted his arms and continued.
"Yes, my dear brothers and sisters, you have heard me correctly. For there is one vessel, one creature that retains all of the bitterness of the spirit. And because of this bitterness, each time Soa delivers one of his own children into our loving hands, the life of that child is reft away. And no matter how much we guard our actions and try to repent in life, there will be no salvation for the children. In order to save the Moon Child, to gain our Utopia, we must first destroy the vessel of our sin and hate! Only then shall the sins of the past be forgiven!" All through his speech, the monk had artfully raised his voice, until now at last his booming voice echoed through the square. Throwing both arms into the air, he raised his face to the boiling clouds in the sky, the light from the spluttering torches flanking him playing across his face. "That vessel of our hatred and sin is the Black Monster! The fiend of our own doing who razes our homes and devours the Moon Children in his black fire! Our sins have plagued for too long! Let us rise up, my brethren, and do away forever with this ill-born vessel of hatred! For the next time a Moon Child is born, it shall be the last fight for this dark legacy!"
As his last words echoed around the square, the crowd roared their approval to the stormy skies above. The clouds had opened up and begun to spill their insides upon the masses, but the rain did little to dampen the spirit of the mob. If anything, the fanatical light smoldering in the backs of their eyes seemed to actually spark and burn. Roaring and clamoring, the somewhere in the crowd someone started up a chant that was quickly picked up by the rest of the crowd.
//That's enough of this!// Ark shoved me roughly out of the way and got to his feet. Deep inside my chest, I could feel the divine dragoon spirit begin to burn.
/What are you doing!?/ I yelled, trying to shove him aside and stumbling backwards from the edge.
//They're fanatics!// Ragnarok snarled, trying to force me out of control again. //If we let them go, then we'll have to face an army twice this size the next time we hunt the Moon Child!//
/They don't know what's going on!/ I shot back, trying desperately to hold my own against the force of his mind. /In a few days from now, they'll have forgotten every word he said!/
//You don't know that! Do you really want all of Endiness converted to the worship of the Moon Child?!//
/That's not what's going on! They're innocent! What you're trying to do is cold-blooded mur-/ I was prevented from saying any more as Ragnarok threw the full force of his mind at me, sending me to my knees. Pain wracked my body, crushing the breath from my lungs and seizing up my muscles. Almost desperately I clawed at my chest with my hands as the stone replacing my heart burst into flame, searing my ribcage. /Ragnarok-!/
//Give it up// Ragnarok gritted, not relenting. //I don't want to do this to you, but if you won't kill them, I will!// When I still resisted, he forced me down even more. My vision began to blur and darken as unconsciousness began to close in. I was going to pass out- and then Ark would be free to do as he pleased.
/Get out!/ I cried suddenly, shoving back against his mind with every ounce of energy I still possessed. /Just leave me! Get out of my head!/
Quite suddenly, everything stopped. The pain disappeared, leaving in its wake a sort of leaden feeling to my limbs. I collapsed weakly to the ground, utterly drained from the struggle. Rain streamed down my cheek, the wetness comfortingly cool against my hot skin. I tried to focus on that detail, but my mind didn't seem to want to function properly. Almost desperately, I reached for the place in my mind where Ark usually resided.
No response.
**Banging her head on a convenient wall** Errhh. sorry if I've disappointed anyone who thought after the last chapter that there was a fight scene coming up. Argh. I'm disappointed with myself. Truth is, I never really planned on writing that fight in the first place.
Heh. One chapter of moderate, more or less chaos, coming right up. Just as soon as my lazy ass self decides she has the inspiration to write it.
Just a quick question/note here: It's gotten into my head here that I'm juggling more plot than I can conveniently plug into the main story. I'd like to try adding in a few side stories. They would have to be much shorter than the regular chapters, but would help, I think, to better explain what is going on, or at least give the reader a better feel for some characters that although may or may not be important later on but that I wouldn't otherwise have the time to really develop. This might deal with one of the dragons (other than Arkie), some of the cultists, or a wingly. It's just something I'd like to experiment with, but I thought I'd get the opinion of you guys first because, after all, you guys are the ones putting up with my writing. ^-^ So just tell me what you think. The first side story wouldn't come for a chapter or two yet, so if you like or disapprove of the idea, you have plenty of time to tell me.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled plot.
~Flashback~
Dart's POV:
"Excuse me, sir?"
I jumped, snapping out of my daze. A serving girl stood over me, looking at me with a slightly exasperated expression. "Sorry. Just chilled ale, thanks." I watched for a moment as she swept away without another word, disappearing behind the low bar as she reached for some sort of drink or another. Disinterested, I dropped my eyes back to the peanut shell covered floor of the bar and went back to my thoughts.
It had been almost fifty years since the assault on the Temple in Bale. On the whole, I still wasn't sure if I was satisfied with the way things had turned out. Yes, Garren had managed to take out the Moon Child, and I had managed to win back the spirit of the red-eye dragoon, but Zen's death had brought about something completely unexpected.
~I stood over Zen's fallen body, chest heaving from the exertion of the fight. A thin stream of blood ran down my neck, leaking from the gash Zen's blade had opened down the right side of my face. Taking a half-step forward, I reached down and carefully lifted the stone from where it sat in a hollow in Zen's pitted armor. Clenching it tightly in my fist, I looked over at Garren. He stood with his hand still outstretched, staring in disbelief at the results of his handiwork. I'd have to talk to him about his afterwards, before he slipped into shock. Hopefully, the pain of taking a life would be enough to convince him that it would be better for him if he stayed in Ulara in the future. To tell the truth, I would much rather he didn't have to stain his hands in this way. I started towards him, but before I could reach him, the sound of footsteps caught my attention.
Donovan stood in the shattered ruins of the door, slowly taking in the aftermath of the conflict. His eyes were sad, even teary, but when they fell on me they held only an undeniable hatred. He restrained himself from speaking to us, but when he spoke it was as though he was addressing a hoard of people.
"On this night, the twenty first day of a new spring, in the temple of the Moon Child in the city of Bale, three of our own have fallen. Among them was the blessed Moon Child, whose presence could only bring light and hope of a better existence into this world. The second was the guardian monk Zenth, who lay down his life in hopes of giving his master a chance to escape. Though his efforts were in vain, let the actions of this martyr never be forgotten. He lay down his life to pave the way to a new world, a way that is now our responsibility to follow and protect."~
I sighed and touched the thin scar running down my cheek as the serving maid handed me my mug and left without a word. We'd known that there were part winglies in the world, but it had never occurred to us that Donovan might be one of them. The abilities of half-breeds were usually quite weak, but it appeared that the cult leader had spent many years developing them, such to the point that he could cast a spell that would make his words known to all, even if they were not physically present when he spoke them. I had thought that when he'd spoken that night it had simply been a rambling brought on by the shock of losing such as he did, but a few weeks later I realized my assumption had been very wrong. Tygris had left for Ulara, and Garren and I had just reached the small coastal village of Kalla when we started to hear talk of the 'martyr'. I guess the Moon Cult was using Zen's name to build up a greater following for themselves, spreading the news that Soa had favored them by sending the dragon warriors to combat the Black Monster and to protect and guide the Moon Child. I found it funny that they failed to mention that they only had two stones left, but let it be.
Garren plunked down into the chair next to me. "Drunk yet?" Even after all that had happened in Bale, Garren had remained with us. I wasn't quite sure why: the man despised the killing of almost everything- unless that something had to do with his next meal.
//He seems happy today. Ask him where he's been// Despite his previous assertion that he didn't care about the taboos of Ulara, Ragnarok liked to keep as close an eye as possible on the energetic wingly at all times. I guess the whole idea of some petty king running around with the weapons from the Dragon Campaign was more than just a little unsettling to him.
"Not really. I don't feel like drinking much today, for some reason." I took a cautious sip of the ale, then set it down and pushed it away. "What have you been up to?"
Absently, Garren grabbed my tankard and took a long draught. "Just looking around. There's so many things to see in Lohan." Grinning, he set the ale down again. "Despite everything, I still think leaving home was the best thing that ever happened to me."
Ragnarok grumbled, but privately I agreed with Garren. Before we'd left, he'd had the soft appearance of someone who'd never had to perform any sort of strenuous work in his life. Now he had a more sculpted look to his muscles, a result of crisscrossing Serdio and Tiberoa on foot several times over the past fifty years or so. His fighting skills had improved vastly; he'd never be on the same level as Haschel, certainly, but he definitely was more than adept with his fists. His skin had tanned a deep gold-brown colour that made his silver hair seem alarmingly pale in comparison. He had long since discarded the outdated outfit he'd worn in Ulara; instead he now wore a plain sleeveless white shirt and loose pants. Taking another quaff from the tankard, he drained it and set it down with a thump on the table. "If you were planning on going outside at anytime soon, you might want to wander down to where the temple is. Would you believe that they have one of their monks outside preaching? And that people are actually listening to that crap?"
//It's not that surprising, if you think about it// Ark reminded me. //If the cult's going to be able to protect the Moon Child from us, they're going to need more support. I wouldn't be surprised if they're planning to overthrow the main religions of Endiness//
I pushed back my chair and got to my feet. "I probably should go outside for a bit," I admitted. Actually, I hadn't been outside in three or four days; the need for fresh air was starting to get to me. "What sort of stuff is this monk going on about?"
"The usual nonsense. A bunch of rubbish about the old stories and utopias and Soa's favor shining on their purpose. They mentioned Zen once or twice. I think they're trying to make that idiot out as a saint rather than just a martyr." Garren settled back into his chair and waved at the serving maid to get her attention. "I wouldn't bother going right now; the monk's finished his sermon for now. He's supposed to be doing another one tonight though."
"I think I'll look around for a while, just the same." We'd been in Lohan for more than a week already, but as in any commercial town, it was always filled with intrigue. Even just by wandering though the streets and listening to casual conversation, one could learn news from just about every corner of the continent.
Slipping out the door and into the narrow, crowded streets, I glanced up at the sun. About mid-afternoon. I still had about five or six hours to kill before the cultists started up with their false sermons again. Slipping into the crowd I wandered aimlessly, listening to the merchants hawking their goods in loud obnoxious voices.
//I hate human cities. At least the winglies felt some need for decorum// Ark said distastefully as two brawlers rolled through the door of a nearby tavern and into the street, to the cheers of some of the more enthusiastic onlookers. We were forced to wait until the pair beat each other into insensibility and was dragged back into the tavern by a distressed looking bartender before we could pass.
/I thought you like fighting/
//Not that kind of fighting. Why is it that you humans feel the pressing need to get drunk, anyhow?//
/I'm not sure/ I responded, stepping around a hassled looking mother trying to control two hyperactive children at once. /A way to pass the time when we're bored, I guess. Some people find it fun/
//What's so entertaining about headaches and throwing up?//
/Nothing really. Actually, the real pain is when you get so drunk you lose track of what day it is/ I stopped to examine a shelf of sweetmeats sold by a florid young man dressed in an obnoxious orange robe. /Ask Garren sometime. I'm sure he managed to do it once or twice in the last three hundred years or so/ I decided that the sweetmeats didn't look that appetizing, so I moved on. Ducking around a crowd of jabbering young women, I mounted the rickety stairs that led to the upper levels of the city.
I just reached the top of the stairs when a hubbub broke out nearby. Two men had seized a struggling young girl by the arms and wrested her to the ground, but not easily. The girl appeared to be putting up a good fight, kicking one man in the kneecap and biting the other on the knuckles. A crowd had started to gather around to watch the display.
"Let me go! I didn't do anything wrong!" The girl cried, desperately trying to break free of her captor's grip. "You got the wrong person!"
"Yeah, right." One of the two men growled, tightening his grip. "I saw you last week, stealing jewelry from my brother's stand. You know what the penalty is for stealing."
"No!" The girl cried, struggling even more. "No! You can't-"
"Just watch us," the man's companion smirked. "You thieves get away with far too much. It's not our place to decide your punishment, but the town guard will probably agree: the best way to stop a thief from stealing is to take away the tools of their trade."
After the girl had been dragged off, I wandered over to where a young couple sat on a doorstep, where they had watched the whole scene. "What was that all about?" I asked.
The man glanced at me, startled. "You must not be from around here," he said. "You see that all the time now. Damn Thieves Guild has gotten out of control."
"Thieves Guild?"
"Bunch of jokers who can't be bothered to work for a living. They've always been around, but a few years ago they started to become more active." The man made a disgusted face. "As you can see, they've even begun to attract children into their ranks. It's become so bad lately that the Knighthood stationed here had to take steps."
"You mean the 'punishment' they were talking about?"
The man's wife nodded. "I must say, the penalty is a harsh one for one such as that child to pay. If she's lucky, maybe Sir Tayne, the head of the knighthood will take pity on her and let her off easy."
"What will they do?"
"Think about it." The man said. "When you get right down to it, there's only one effective way to stop a thief from stealing without killing them."
"You're not serious! She's only a child!" I exploded.
//It makes sense. A thief without hands would have a very hard time stealing things//
/Yes, but it would screw up just about every other aspect of her life as well! How can you expect a child to go through life without their hands?/ I stalked away from the couple without another word, still muttering and grumbling to myself.
Several hours later, I found myself still worrying over the matter of the young girl.
//Give it up Dart// Ark said in a tired tone. //If they'd done something about her, you would have heard her screaming. They probably just let her go//
/Maybe/ I said, but I didn't really believe it. The moralities of the knighthood hadn't seemed to change that much since Lavitz's day, but according to the public, the rein they tried to keep on breaklaws grew shorter by the day. /I think that we should start to head over to the temple now/ I said, changing the subject and glancing up at the darkening sky above us. The street merchants had begun to light their lamps, sending flickering shadows against the walls of the buildings lining the narrow avenues. Here and there the members of the knighthood could be seen, standing in the shadows of doorframes or leaning on their spears near the shops. Overhead the sky was becoming steadily more overcast; dark, threatening clouds could just be seen scudding slowly through the twilight. Somewhere off in the distance, thunder rumbled sullenly.
Leaving the streets and slipping through an open doorway, I wove my way through the maze of shops and storerooms that make up the beehive like buildings belonging to the merchant class of Lohan, slowly making my way through to the rooftops. Above the streetlights, the only breaks in the darkness came through the panes of glass in the loft windows in the upper floors of the apartments. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid any shingles that may have become loosened by the weather. More than a few times I slipped, and once I almost slid off the roof entirely, but managed to save myself at the last moment. Ragnarok took this opportunity to berate me for my clumsiness, not quieting down until we'd reached the rooftop nearest the temple.
Glancing over the lip of the roof, I was surprised at what I saw. The square below was filled to overflowing with people of all classes and nationalities. In a town such as Lohan the latter was to be expected, but I hadn't thought that this many people were buying into this crap. Seating myself on the edge of the roof, I shook my head. /This isn't good/
//I know// Ark's voice was grim. //If the cult has gained this much support, we're going to have to take some steps//
Further opportunity for conversation was cut off as a young man dressed in the familiar green robes pushed open the temple doors and stood at the top of the steps, lifting his hand for silence. Almost immediately the crowd's clamor ceased as all eyes turned to look upon the monk. Smiling broadly, he raised both arms and delivered the ritual benediction in one of the old tongues of Endiness. He paused while the crowd echoed his words, then set to work.
/He's just repeating the same crap that they've been preaching for the past two hundred years or so/ I said after listening to the gesticulating monk ramble on for about half an hour or so. /It's nothing out of the ordinary. So why are people flocking to him like this?/
//It's the words he's using// Ark said testily. //Yes, he's repeating the same old ideas, but listen to him speak. It's not his ideals that are causing the crowd to hang on his every word like this, but his eloquence. He's using flowery speech to beautify and rejuvenate a tired out subject//
/Whatever it is, it's working/ I said, watching the rapt faces of the crowd. /He's got them wrapped around his little finger like a piece of thread/
Ragnarok watched as down below the monk worked his speech up to its climax, waving both arms erratically in the air and speaking with a loud, passionate voice. Even from the distance we sat, there was no way that we could miss the fanatical light burning in his eyes. As the light began to catch into the crowd, Ragnarok growled //He's dangerous//
/No kidding. They'd assault the gates of Hell itself if he told them to right now/
//Hush. I think he must have saved up all his feelings about us for last. Here he goes//
Below, the young monk dropped his voice so low that I had to actually strain to catch his words, even though the square was dead silent. "But, my brothers and sisters, as always there is one thing that shall forever stand in the way of our Utopia. For as all know, it is the sins of mankind that stay Soa from delivering paradise into our hands. The sins we have all committed, yes, even I, shall weigh us down and keep us, like sulking children, from ever receiving the paradise from the hands of the blessed Moon Child- unless we can repent!" Here he paused and dabbed sweat from his brow with his sleeve. When he seemed positive that the crowd was holding his breath for his next words, he lifted his arms and continued.
"Yes, my dear brothers and sisters, you have heard me correctly. For there is one vessel, one creature that retains all of the bitterness of the spirit. And because of this bitterness, each time Soa delivers one of his own children into our loving hands, the life of that child is reft away. And no matter how much we guard our actions and try to repent in life, there will be no salvation for the children. In order to save the Moon Child, to gain our Utopia, we must first destroy the vessel of our sin and hate! Only then shall the sins of the past be forgiven!" All through his speech, the monk had artfully raised his voice, until now at last his booming voice echoed through the square. Throwing both arms into the air, he raised his face to the boiling clouds in the sky, the light from the spluttering torches flanking him playing across his face. "That vessel of our hatred and sin is the Black Monster! The fiend of our own doing who razes our homes and devours the Moon Children in his black fire! Our sins have plagued for too long! Let us rise up, my brethren, and do away forever with this ill-born vessel of hatred! For the next time a Moon Child is born, it shall be the last fight for this dark legacy!"
As his last words echoed around the square, the crowd roared their approval to the stormy skies above. The clouds had opened up and begun to spill their insides upon the masses, but the rain did little to dampen the spirit of the mob. If anything, the fanatical light smoldering in the backs of their eyes seemed to actually spark and burn. Roaring and clamoring, the somewhere in the crowd someone started up a chant that was quickly picked up by the rest of the crowd.
//That's enough of this!// Ark shoved me roughly out of the way and got to his feet. Deep inside my chest, I could feel the divine dragoon spirit begin to burn.
/What are you doing!?/ I yelled, trying to shove him aside and stumbling backwards from the edge.
//They're fanatics!// Ragnarok snarled, trying to force me out of control again. //If we let them go, then we'll have to face an army twice this size the next time we hunt the Moon Child!//
/They don't know what's going on!/ I shot back, trying desperately to hold my own against the force of his mind. /In a few days from now, they'll have forgotten every word he said!/
//You don't know that! Do you really want all of Endiness converted to the worship of the Moon Child?!//
/That's not what's going on! They're innocent! What you're trying to do is cold-blooded mur-/ I was prevented from saying any more as Ragnarok threw the full force of his mind at me, sending me to my knees. Pain wracked my body, crushing the breath from my lungs and seizing up my muscles. Almost desperately I clawed at my chest with my hands as the stone replacing my heart burst into flame, searing my ribcage. /Ragnarok-!/
//Give it up// Ragnarok gritted, not relenting. //I don't want to do this to you, but if you won't kill them, I will!// When I still resisted, he forced me down even more. My vision began to blur and darken as unconsciousness began to close in. I was going to pass out- and then Ark would be free to do as he pleased.
/Get out!/ I cried suddenly, shoving back against his mind with every ounce of energy I still possessed. /Just leave me! Get out of my head!/
Quite suddenly, everything stopped. The pain disappeared, leaving in its wake a sort of leaden feeling to my limbs. I collapsed weakly to the ground, utterly drained from the struggle. Rain streamed down my cheek, the wetness comfortingly cool against my hot skin. I tried to focus on that detail, but my mind didn't seem to want to function properly. Almost desperately, I reached for the place in my mind where Ark usually resided.
No response.
**Banging her head on a convenient wall** Errhh. sorry if I've disappointed anyone who thought after the last chapter that there was a fight scene coming up. Argh. I'm disappointed with myself. Truth is, I never really planned on writing that fight in the first place.
Heh. One chapter of moderate, more or less chaos, coming right up. Just as soon as my lazy ass self decides she has the inspiration to write it.