.comHey, whaddya know? I'm not dead after all! Although at couple points
exams and eventing camp almost did do me in. And to add to the general
disgruntled-ness, I'm missing my Meteora CD.
To Fried Chicken: O.O; that officially ranks right up there as one of the strangest questions I've ever been asked, on or off line. After careful consideration, I finally came to this conclusion: In 700-odd years, Dart is bound to have gone into a bar one night and woken up in someone else's bed the next morning. More than once. As for Ragnarok, I'm sure he spent the next couple weeks inventing and re-inventing snide remarks and such.
**Dream sequence**
Dart's POV:
** "So it is agreed then?"
The High Priestess of the Moon Cult in Serdio, a tall black haired woman who went by the name Tulia glared at the speaker. Nero, the High Priest of the Cult in Mille Seseau, returned the look impassively. Umaar, representative of the Tiberoian Cult sat on the edge of his chair, glancing nervously between the two. Nero and Tulia had never gotten along; their struggle for absolute power over all chapters of the cult was stuff of legend. And now Umaar found himself in the middle of yet another of those conflicts as the two bristled at each other from either side of the table.
The forth person seated, King Randal of Mille Seseau, cleared his throat. "I said, is it agreed?"
"No, it is not agreed!" Tulia snapped, ignoring the king's startled look. "Nero's plan is about as secure as a bag of gold sitting in the middle of a Lohan marketplace. The Moon Child has been hidden from the Black Monster hundreds of times in the past, and it has never worked once. No matter what we do, he always knows exactly where and how to strike." She shook her head, sending a ripple through her cascading hair. "By sending prince Damien away to some forsaken part of the content, all we are doing is moving the danger away from ourselves by serving him to the Monster on a silver platter."
"You sound as though you have a better idea." Nero's voice was steady. It was rare that the overweight Priest showed any sign of emotion; if men and woman of the cloth had been allowed to play at cards, Nero's impassive face would have won him his weight in gold.
"I do. If we take up a defensive position within the palace and wait for the Monster to come to us, we could kill him before he even gets anywhere near the prince."
Randal bit his lip, torn between sacrificing his son or his home as he struggled to keep abreast of the situation. In spite of himself, Umaar felt his lip curl with disdain. Randal was a weak King, almost totally incapable of running the country on his own. It was because of this weakness that the Moon Cult was able to all but completely rule Mille Seseau, but Umaar still felt disgusted every time he looked at the man. How this idiot had ever managed to beat out his brother Christopher in the race for the throne never ceased to amaze him.
"And how do you propose to do that? People have tried to stand up to the Black Monster before. Every single one of them has died."
"He may be a Monster," Tulia purred, "but he's not immortal."
"Well he certainly appears to be."
"Appearances are often very different from the reality."
"Oh? And how do you propose to hurt it?" Nero asked, raising one eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair, looking slowly around the room as though he might find the answer to his question somewhere within the dark paneled study.
The study in which they sat was the King's own, although judging from the dust that had gathered upon the text and scrolls resting on the shelves of the bookcases, it was rarely used for that purpose. Randal simply didn't have the brainpower. There were no windows; just four stone walls, three of them adorned with tapestries depicting the deeds of valor from long days past. The high ceiling was lost in shadow, not reached by the light from the fireplace that occupied the far wall. It was to this fireplace that Nero's attention was drawn. Resting atop of the ornately carved mantle was a plain wooden case perhaps the length of a man's arm and twice as thick with a heavy iron latch.
Following his gaze, Tulia smiled thinly. "You're curious, are you not?" Pushing back her chair away from the table, she rose to her feet and straightened her long green robes. "Shall I show you?" Crossing to the fireplace she lifted down the box and set it on the stones of the hearth. Thumbing open the fastenings, she removed the top of the case and set it on the floor next to her. After regarding the contents of the case for a few moments, she delicately selected two long objects, one wrapped in green velvet, the other in white. Returning to the table, she placed the items before her.
"As you know, the researchers in Kazas have studied the magical properties of dragon fire for centuries. It is a fascinating thing, really." As she spoke, Tulia had begun to remove the velvet. "Fascinating, but never practical. A pain to produce and extract, and beyond healing and powering lifts, they were never able to exert enough control to make anything productive of it. Until a few years ago." Pushing the velvet to one side, she reached out and set what appeared to be two glass crossbow bolts filled with light in the center of the table. "These, your Majesty, are what will bring down the Black Monster."**
I groaned into my pillow, but the soft down muffled the sound. Rolling out of bed, I staggered over to the washbasin and splashed some cold water on my face and neck in an effort to wake up fully. No good. The memory of the dream was still there, as clear as the water that sloshed against the sides of the basin.
//Finally// Ark grumbled. //I was starting to wonder if we hadn't missed it already//
/I almost wish we had/
//Stop that. Get dressed, and then wake the others. We have to get a move on//
Reaching for my shirt, I glanced out the window and suppressed another groan. Snow was falling heavily in the darkness outside, clogging the streets and turning the waterways into a mess of slush and ice. Just my luck that winter would decide to arrive all in one rush tonight, of all nights. Pulling my shirt over my head and strapping on my sword belt, I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on. I had had to replace my last one soon after we had arrived in Furni, but this one was much the same as the others; plain serviceable black, maybe a little better made than the ones before.
I finished dressing quickly, grabbed my sword and anything I would need, and then stepped outside into the hallway. Locating Garren's room, I pounded on the door until he opened it, still groggy with sleep. When I was sure he was listening and not just bobbing his head in response to whatever the hell I was saying, I told him to rouse Nova and come downstairs as quickly as possible. That done, I headed down to the common room.
Except for a few late night drinkers, the common room was empty. The smoky tallow candles had burned down to stumps amid small pools of melted wax in their holders, and the fire was little more than a pile of glowing embers on the hearth. Tom the bartender sat on a stool next to the sink, absently wiping a cracked mug as he kept a weary eye on the last few customers. As I reached the bottom of the stairs he jumped, setting the mug down with a bang. "Mr. Tien! What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked suspiciously.
"Leaving, I hope. My friends and I have to catch an early ship out of here to Doneau to meet with a friend, and the captain wants us onboard to help prepare for the voyage. He's a little short on crew, I take it."
Tom grunted his approval and went back to wiping his mugs. "If you're after an early breakfast, you're out of luck. The cook doesn't get up for another hour or two yet, and I ain't touching no stove." Tossing his rag down onto the bar, he stumped over to the drowsy customers and began to rouse them with curses and complaints. "C'mon, budge yerselves! Closing time!"
I seated myself on a stool and leaned back against the wall to wait for Garren and Nova. /So what next? Should I ask Nova to warp us right to Deningrad, or would it be better that we rode?/
//Ask her. You don't want to waste any time in weather like this// Ark paused, and I could feel him sifting through my memories of the dream. //What interests me are those crossbow bolts that the Priestess was holding. You shouldn't have woken up so soon. If you'd hung around longer we might have been able to find out what she planned to do with them//
/The green is an unquenchable fire that burns perpetually. The white is a healing flame that will cure just about anything/
//Hmm?//
/When we snuck into Kazas looking for emperor Doel, we ran into some of those researchers that Tulia was talking about. They didn't know much about the flames at all; save for the fact that it was linked to dragons and that one harmed and the other healed/ I shifted my position. /She probably means to shoot us with the green one/
//Really? I hadn't guessed//
/Those bolts looked like they were made of glass, Ark. They'll shatter the moment they meet any sort of resistance, especially if they're shot from a crossbow. Glass shards coupled with fire. And if she decides to distribute them among the temple guards, we could be in for a rough time/
//Then we won't give her the time. We'll warp in and destroy the child before she even gets the chance//
/Unless she'd already distributed them/ I muttered darkly. /I'm not looking forward to this. I don't fancy being lit on fire/
//Neither do I//
Muttering to myself under my breath, I turned on my stool as Nova and Garren appeared at the bottom of the stairs, both of them yawning and blinking in the smoky light. "You two alright?"
"What's-" Nova stifled a huge yawn, "S'cuse me. What's going on?"
I glanced over at Tom, who was arguing with a filthy bar patron who looked particularly reluctant to leave. "I just got the heads up on the Child. He was born to the royal family of Mille Seseau, so it looks as though we're heading to Deningrad." I gave Nova a hard look. "Could you warp us there? The weather's pretty nasty out there right now."
Nova bit her lip, considering. "Probably. The weather might complicate things a bit, but I think that I could manage."
"Wonderful. Oh, and once we're in there, keep an eye out for anyone with a crossbow. Whatever you do, don't allow them to get too close to you. It'll be worth your life if you do." Dropping a handful of coin onto the bar to pay for our stay, I crossed the common room to the dingy glass pained door and wrenched it open, letting in a gust of wind that caused the candles to stutter and the embers in the fire to flare momentarily back into life before dimming again. Turning the collar of my jacket up against the wind, I bowed my head and stepped outside into the blizzard.
Aside from the faint light filtering through the grimy windows of The Dragon, the street outside was dark. Crossing the road to the shadows of a doorway across the street, I waited impatiently while Nova prepared for the jump. I could hardly make her out against the background of swirling snow, hood pulled up and hands tucked into the sleeves of her coat as she muttered quietly to herself. Finally she raised her head, freeing her hands and extending one to me and the other to Garren. "This might take a few tries," she reminded us, "So just try to be patient, okay?"
Garren started to respond, but whatever it was that he had been about to say was drowned out as the hum of magic filled my ears and the world dissolved into a brilliant green light. Somewhere in the back of my mind the hum was slowly turning into an aching reverberation, but I ignored it. Any moment now the light would fall away-
-And it was replaced with darkness. The freezing wind lashed at my body, sending me stumbling backwards into Garren, who overbalanced and was knocked face first into the powdery snow. Raising one hand to shield my eyes against the wind, I saw Nova, her silver hair seemingly incandescent in the darkness. "Nova-?"
"I overshot! Hold on a moment, okay?" She struggled forward, grabbing Garren's hand as he jolted back onto his feet and taking a firm grip on my shoulder. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of the wind howling across the endless expanse of the snowfields. And then once again we were swallowed up in that green light.
//So much for catching them by surprise// Ark grumbled. //At this rate, it will take all night to reach Deningrad//
/Will you relax?/ I almost laughed in spite of myself. Me, telling him to relax? It should have been the other way around. /She'll get us there/
//Yes, but when?//
It took another three tries for Nova to land us inside the relative shelter of the city walls. Exhausted and drenched with sweat she slumped to her knees, drained from the effort of warping back and forth over several hundred miles worth of the continent. "Finally," she gasped, wiping her brow, "I was starting to wonder if I would ever find it." She gave a little huff of breath as Garren wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet again.
"Hey, at least we made it." Still supporting Nova, Garren glanced over at me, then at the narrow street in which we stood. "Er, this IS Deningrad, isn't it?"
"It sure as hell isn't Furni." I shifted my belt around so that my sword wasn't quite so obvious. "Nova, will you be okay?" When she nodded, I started up the street in the general direction of the palace. "Come on. Garren, you're going to have to warp us in if the doors are closed."
//Soa forbid that should happen. He'd probably land us in the guardhouse//
/True, but I don't think that we need to tell him that/
Oblivious to Ark's remarks Garren nodded and followed, helping Nova along with her arm slung across his shoulders.
The streets were still dark, but the bellies of the clouds on the western horizon had begun to glow with the coming of dawn though it was still a ways off. The snow had abated somewhat; that is to say that we could see farther than three feet in front of us. No lamps burned in the windows of the houses and shops lining the snowy streets. The town slept quietly, tucked in neatly under a chilly white blanket. And over it all towered the crystal palace, rearing up from the core of the city to scrape the clouds with its crystal spires. The heart of Mille Seseau, home of the state and royal family. And now the Moon Child as well.
/Do you think we'll be able to get in unnoticed?/ I asked as we made our way through the slippery cobbled stone streets.
//Get in, yes. Moving around could be a bit more of a challenge//
/Great. Just what we need/ The doors of the palace loomed up out of the swirling snow, a dark, unadorned archway in the near darkness. I didn't expect to see any guards, but I peered into the dark shadows surrounding the door before we approached it, just to be sure. When I was positive that we were alone, I beckoned Garren over.
Garren's POV:
The doors were locked. Well, of course they were locked; my luck always plays that sort of trick on me. Just once I'd like to be able to approach a problem and have the solution handed to me on a silver platter. But really, the odds of that ever happening? Zilch to none. But now that I think about it, if I didn't have to come up with so many solutions, I'd really have no fun with my absurdly long life.
Leaving Nova with Dart, I made a quick jump past the gates and into the entry hall of the palace. I'd been here once before, several hundred years ago with Dart, and I vaguely remembered seeing an open space underneath the huge marble stairwell that led into the interior of the Crystal Palace. My aim for once wasn't too bad; the shadows under the stairs flickered green momentarily as I reappeared, then faded back into darkness. Breathing lightly I stayed in a crouch, the top of my head brushing the underside of the marble steps, waiting to see if anyone had noticed any sign of my arrival, but the hall was silent. Well, almost silent. Someone was pacing back and forth near the doors, their footsteps accompanied by the quiet clink of chain mail. One of the knights, more than likely. Crawling around to the edge of the stairwell, I strained my neck to get a better look.
I bit back an oath. The soldier standing with his back to me wasn't wearing the traditional white cloak or silver mail that was the mark of one of the Knights of Mille Seseau. Instead the armor was a dull black, oddly angular in its construction. A dread knight of the cult. Dart had told me about them, but I'd never actually seen one before. Founded not long after the cult, they had been a sort of personal army at first, open to almost anyone who could pick up a weapon. As time passed the requirements changed; only the elite could join their ranks, which by necessity never numbered more than fifty. If they had brought in the dread nights, then they were planning on fighting this one out. It also meant that they probably didn't have the luxury of a dragoon stone at the moment.
I was so intent on the man watching the door that I almost didn't notice the second dread knight coming down the stairs until it was too late. Ducking back out of sight as the man came down the stairs almost over my head, I waited until he was approaching the other man before risking poking my head out again. Two of them! Luck must really hate me.
"Is everything quiet, Benin?"
The knight by the door jumped, sounding a loud clank with his armor as he did so. When he realized who had spoken, he managed to recover some of his dignity by smashing one mailed gauntlet into his chest. "Yes sir, Lord Claskin, sir!"
Claskin shook his head. "How many times must I tell you, Benin? I'm not your lord any more. I gave that up when we left Serdio. Don't bother with titles."
"Yes sir, Lord Claskin, sir!"
I bit back a snicker. I'd seen parrots before, colorful birds imported from the tropical regions of Endiness. A lady in Lohan had tried to sell me one once; she had trained the birds to speak, but they only knew a few phrases and repeated them endlessly until you got so angry at them that you wanted nothing more than to throw them out a window and be done with it. From the look this Claskin was giving his former manservant, I guessed that he must have similar sentiments.
Sighing, Claskin pulled off his helm and kneaded his brow. He was a tall, well built man of middle years: gray had just begun to touch his temples, but his face remained unlined. A long scar ran up his cheekbone, and his nose was crooked as though it had been broken at sometime or another. I took in that much in a glance. My second glance, however was drawn to the crossbow he was cradling in the crook of his left arm. Benin held one also, but with the ease of someone who knew how to use it well. He was shorter than Claskin, and younger. He seemed almost portly, although it could have just been the fit of the armor.
Jamming the helm back onto his head, Claskin turned as if to leave. AS he did so I stepped out smoothly from behind the stone balustrade, a ball of flame leaping to life in each hand. There wasn't much else for it, now.
For a moment, he just stared, eyes wide and mouth working silently. Only a moment, though. Getting hold of his surprise, he raised his crossbow, opening his mouth to shout a warning as he did so. My first fireball caught him in the chest, burning a hole through his armor. He clamped his mouth shut, staring dumbly at his shaking hand as he raised it to his breastplate. Then without a sound he tumbled over backwards to the flagstones.
Before Claskin had even struck the ground Benin was wheeling about, rage painted on his face as he lifted his weapon to his shoulder. Rage turned into shock as the crossbow suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and splinters. Before the thick man could move my third fireball struck him in the head, sending the helm bouncing and rolling across the floor. His body simply slumped to the ground, landing beside Claskin's.
Averting my eyes from my work, I hurried to the door. Halfway there, though, I paused and forced myself to grab Claskin's still form and drag him back under the stairs. A moment later, Benin followed. That done, I returned to the doors. It was only the work of a moment to open the heavy iron lock, jamming down the latch with both hands, and the door swung inward.
Dart stumbled in covered in snow, with Nova close behind him. As I jammed the door shut again, I heard him growl into my ear. "What took you so long?"
"I had to deal with something first." I looked pointedly at the charred remains of the crossbow. The floor nearby was smudged slightly with blood, leading in a smeared trail back to the staircase. Locking the door again I turned around, only to face Nova. She stood a few paces away, staring at me. I tried to meet her gaze, then dropped my eyes and shivered. She was looking at me as though she was staring at a stranger. Unconsciously, I reached up to brush the hair out of my eyes, but I stopped when I caught sight of my hand. It was stained with blood. Benin's blood.
I felt my stomach heave, but before I could bring anything up Dart was rushing up the stairs. Nova watched me for a moment longer, then followed. Clamping my teeth together in a grimace, I followed. Part of me wished that I could explain it to her, that I hadn't had a choice and try to make her understand. The other part of me was just glad that she couldn't see what was under the stairs she was running up. As I passed the remains of the crossbows, however, I stopped.
Lying amid the pile of splinters was a crossbow bolt that looked as though it were made of glass. Even more interesting were the emerald flames that danced inside it. This was probably what Dart had been warning us about, but out of curiosity I plucked it up. It was warm to the touch, although not as warm as fire should have been. It shone in the firelight, the barbed glass tip glittering. Kind of pretty, actually. Slipping it into the pocket of the overcoat I'd donned upon leaving the inn, I raced back up the stairs.
At the landing I halted and looked around. The hall was empty, save for a sentry at the very top of the stairs. Thankfully, his back was to me. But where had Dart and Nova gone?
Hands settled on my shoulders; before I could react I had been half- carried, half-dragged into a side chamber. "Don't stand around like that in the open like that, idiot. Do you want to be turned into a flaming pincushion?" Dart released me as Nova quietly shut the door behind us.
Something in the tone alerted me to the change. Rubbing the spot on my shoulders where I was fairly sure the man's grip had left a bruise, I took a step back. "I love you too, Ragnarok. What happened to Dart?"
"He's trying to figure out where they've penned up the Moon Child. There are a fair number of possibilities, so I'm taking over while he narrows it down. He's not one for multitasking. Limited brain power, you understand." He paused a moment, a half-grin hovering on his features, then barked out a laugh. I'm not really sure how the whole speaking bit works between them, but I was fairly sure that Dart had just delivered his retort.
Nova was standing at the door, still looking rather pale. Steeling myself, I walked up to her quietly and almost rested a hand on her shoulder before I thought the better of it. Instead I leaned in close, keeping my voice low. "Are you okay? You look kind of, well-" I trailed off as she turned to glare at me, but the look only lasted a moment.
"I'm fine." She responded, but her voice sounded hollow in my ears.
"You sure?"
"Yes." She bit her lip. "No. What did you do back there?"
Great. "Nothing that I wanted to." I averted my eyes, staring at a knothole in the door a few feet distant. "Nova, it was them or me. Believe me, if there had been another way-" I trailed off again, this time lost for words. I shrugged helplessly.
Nova bit her lip, and for a moment I was afraid she wouldn't accept my answer. Not that I would blame her. Hell, I didn't even accept it. I shook my head. What was wrong with me? That wasn't the first time I had been in a situation like that; why was it bothering me now, of all times?
My musing was cut short as Ragnarok grunted. "Alright, come on. The easiest room to defend is probably the council chambers. There's a narrow hallway leading to it, and a narrow doorway to get through. It's right above the throne room." He glanced at Nova. "Could you warp us in from our current location?"
Nova shook her head. "Not in a building like this. I wouldn't know where to go." She paused. "If we could get into the throne room, or even the room next to it, I could probably jump in without any problems." She ran a hand through her long hair; it was still wet from the melted snow.
"You sure?" Ragnarok frowned. It was strange, being able to tell who was in control of the man's body when. The eyes of the divine dragon were said to have held death, back when he was in his true form. Even now, I could tell how true that had been. Even now, caught behind the eyes of a human, I could all but see the flames burning. "They'll be expecting us to go to the throne room." He muttered, half to himself. "We'll want to avoid that if we can: they'll probably have set up a guard of some sort to distract us." Rubbing at his forehead under the bandana, he was quiet a moment before coming to a conclusion. "Alright. Somewhere around here there should be another doorway. When they rebuilt the palace, they built a network of passages so that the servants could make their way in and out most of the rooms without being seen. We'll take those as far as we can, then see where that leaves us."
The side chamber we were in was small, hardly larger than my own quarters back in Ulara, so it didn't take very long to find the doorway. It had been concealed behind a large floor length tapestry, so that whoever the room's occupants customarily were, they wouldn't have to look at it. Inwardly, I was disgusted. Who had this king thought he was anyhow? If he was so arrogant that he didn't even want to have to look at his own servants, I hoped that he had suffered a short rule. Still musing, I followed Nova through the little door, pulling it firmly shut behind me.
The passages were constructed of rough stone; a sharp contrast to the marble and crystal sheathed walls of the more public parts of the palace. The floor was worn smooth from centuries of use and torches burned low in sconces every ten feet or so along the walls, but the air was heavy with the scent of dust and smoke. Trying not to cough, we made our way through the maze of passages. They seemed to lead everywhere at once; now that the sky was long out of sight, my sense of direction was killed. Ragnarok, at least, seemed to know where we were going. He led us without hesitating, down a set of narrow stairs and through several different branches of passages. Judging from the way that he was muttering to himself, the dragon was doing this on his own; Dart seemed to be as lost as I was.
Twice we stopped at doorways, waiting while Ragnarok checked which room it was. At the first he returned almost immediately, shaking his head, but at the second he slammed the door behind him immediately he entered. There was a yell, the sounds of a scuffle, and then everything was still. Gritting my teeth and clenching my fist around the metal knuckles, I shouldered open the door.
Ragnarok was inside, crouched over the bloody body of one of the fallen, calmly wiping his odd blade on the man's cloak. Two other forms were sprawled nearby, the nearest appearing to have been thrown against the wall. He was crumpled on the rug, his neck bent on an impossible angle. I avoided looking at the other too closely; I had seen Ragnarok fight with that sword before. Dart could be coldhearted when he needed to be, but the dragon far out shadowed him in that respect. There's a saying that the only safe enemy is a dead enemy, and I understand that. But Ragnarok takes it to extremes.
"Them or us." Nova said quietly. She stood at my shoulder, eyes wandering around the room, taking in detail haphazardly. For some reason it didn't seem to bother her as much as it had when she couldn't see the results of the fight. Or maybe because this was the sort of thing that she expected from Ragnarok. Without thinking I fumbled about until I found her hand and gave it a small squeeze, which she returned.
Ragnarok stood, but didn't sheath his sword. A small shiver seemed to run through him, and his stance relaxed as Dart regained control. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on the crumpled dread knight lying at his feet. Shaking his head he stepped away.
"Where are we?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"Next to the throne room." Dart's eyes wandered up to the ceiling. "They should be right up there." Without hesitation, he reached out and gently took hold of Nova's wrist. "Okay?" When she finally nodded, he shifted his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Be ready for anything. By now, they know we're coming."
Dart's POV:
Nova swallowed and closed her eyes. The usual throbbing in my head was nothing more than a sting this time, just as the green light was nothing more than a flash. One moment were were standing in the side chamber, the next we were standing in the council chamber.
The council chamber was crowded with a score or more dread knights, half milling about near the entrance, the rest standing rigidly at attention in a line at the far end. In the gaps between them I could see the priests from the dream and a thin weedy man with a weak chin who I remembered as King Randal. He stood beside his wife, a plump woman who might have been pretty were it not for the look of stark terror on her face. In her arms she cradled a red-wrapped bundle.
In the startled silence that greeted our appearance, I let go of Nova's shoulder and bolted for the line of knights guarding the Moon Child, sword held low. I had almost reached them when Nova's voice broke the silence.
"DUCK!"
Without pause I hurled myself forward into a roll as the snap of bowstrings and scream of crossbow bolts filled the air. Most of them passed harmlessly overhead; a couple struck the ground next to me -exploding in small bursts of glass and green flame- but by the time I was back on my feet the soldiers had discarded the crossbows and drawn their swords, leaping as one to meet me.
Parrying a thrust, I smashed one of the dread knights in the face with my elbow even as a slash from one of his companions opened a shallow cut in my side that ran from shoulder blade to hip. Outnumbered, I let myself be pushed back a few steps before dropping to one knee and slashing at ankle height. As one of the knights jumped to avoid the blade I completed the maneuver, reversing the slash and bringing it up on an angle at neck height. The knight fell, and two more leapt to take his place even as another gash was opened on my thigh. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the green flame from the crossbow bolts licking hungrily at wall hangings and curtains.
It was madness. I lost myself in the fight, only dimly aware of the blood streaming down my face from a gash above my right eye. I moved automatically, countering, slashing, and thrusting, as I tried to cut my way through to where the priests stood watching calmly from the far end of the chamber. Twice I slipped on the blood slick floor and almost went down, but each time I managed to recover somehow. Absently I realized that was wielding my sword with only one hand; my left arm hung uselessly at my side, sharp stabbing pains running through it from a break in the bone. Ark was shouting something; almost without realizing it I activated my spirit. Startled, the knights fell back a step or two as I was momentarily engulfed in the familiar grayish-silver light. Slowly, as though rising to the surface from the depths of a lake, I became aware of my own thoughts again. And the fact that Ark was yelling himself hoarse.
//What the hell do you think you were doing!?//
/I couldn't help it/ Taking advantage of the enemy's confusion I slashed out with my new blade, felling two with one stroke. Five on one, now. But at least I was back in control. /besides, you've taken on this many before/
//Not dread knights!// The fire had spread from the curtains to the walls; sulfur smelling smoke was slowly filling the chamber.
/If you were so upset, why didn't you take control?/ My left arm was still weak, but I was at least able to use the massive cannon to block. I turned aside another thrust and returned with one of my own. Four to go.
//I couldn't! Do you know how hard it is to shove you aside when you're that intent on fighting? You're almost as bad as me!// Ark snapped. //And watch your back; one of those tapestries is on fire//
/What's that supposed to mean? Everything is on fire!/ There was a sound like a muffled explosion and the dread knight nearest to me went down with a scream, and a burst of orange flame. Three more fireballs followed in quick succession, and then the room was silent.
Nova and Garren were both in the air above me, faces and clothes streaked with blood and sweat, but still in better condition than I. It appeared that wingly magic was much more effective than my sword when it came to the dread knights. "You okay?" Nova drifted down lower. Garren stayed up near the roof, glaring down at the priests. The high vaulted roof itself had caught fire; bits of burning plaster rained down on us. The only thing, in fact that didn't seem to be burning was the stone floor.
Someone was laughing quietly. Dropping my eyes, I realized that it was the dark haired priestess from the dream. Tulia had been her name. She stood at the forefront of the little group huddling at the far end of the hall -as far as they could be from us while staying clear of the flaming walls- holding a crossbow loaded with the familiar green bolt. For a minute the only sounds in the hall were the sound of her laughter coupled with the crackling of the flames.
She cut off laughing suddenly, her face intent. "Well, I must say, I'm impressed. But this was hardly what I'd expected for the legendary Black Monster. Two winglies, and unless I miss my guess, a dragoon? Hardly the twelve foot fire breathing fiend I was led to believe I would be facing." Idly, she lifted the crossbow and aimed it at my face. "Too bad that getting rid of you will be this easy."
She tensed, and I flinched. But at the last moment she re-adjusted her aim, swinging the crossbow up towards the ceiling and pulling the trigger in one movement.
Garren's scream echoed through the flaming chamber. As the scream faded he wavered, then felt out of the air to the stones below with a bone- jarring thud. And yet amazingly he still moved, trying to escape the green fire the was spreading over his chest and back. Laying on the floor with his back arched, tears streamed openly down his face as he tried to escape the pain.
/Ark-!/ I started, but Nova was quicker. Landing pale-faced beside her friend, she placed both her hands on his chest, ignoring the flames. Without warning pain exploded in the back of my head; for a moment the world reeled and stars swam before my vision before then it faded. As things seeped back into focus, I looked over to where Nova crouched over Garren. The flames had faded and he lay still, chest rising and falling slowly even though he seemed to be unconscious. Dark burns were visible through the charred remainder of his shirt.
Twenty feet away, Tulia arched one dark eyebrow. "Well," she murmured, "That was quite-" she trailed off as I leveled the cannon with her. See how she liked it, for a change.
Ignoring the weapon, she actually offered a small, predatory smile at me. "Go on. Kill us all. It won't change anything."
//She's bluffing// Ark muttered, and I repeated his comment.
Tulia laughed again, this time drawing uneasy looks from her companions behind her. "Do you think so? Why don't you allow me to explain." She pointed up to the burning ceiling. "See that? Any moment now that roof will fall, crushing us all." Her smile became twisted. "You can stay, kill us, and burn. Or you can escape, and allow us freedom also. It doesn't matter to me. Even if the Child dies, it will all be worth it to see you dead. And do you know why? Because then you won't be around 108 years in the future when the next Child is born."
/Damn it/ I glared at her, but kept my comments inside my head.
She laughed again. "You see Nero? I told you we could trap him."
The poker faced priest was sweating visibly. "Yes, but look at the mess you've landed us in! You never said anything about sacrificing our lives!
Tulia waved it aside as though the loss of their lives was a small matter. I guess that in her eyes it really was. "I didn't think I had to. Any follower of the Moon Child should be willing to throw down their lives for their god. Why should we be any different?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless your faith isn't as strong as we were lead to believe, Nero."
Nero swallowed, eyeing the cannon and trying to avoid looking directly at my face. "My faith is every bit as strong as it has ever been, Tulia." He started to say more, but was cut off with a yelp when a chunk of burning wood fell from the ceiling and smacked him across the back of the head. The woman holding the child jumped back quickly, staring at the burning brand as though it were a live snake.
More chunks of wood and plaster were falling now, dropping to the stones trailing flames or sparks. Craning my neck about to look upward, a movement made difficult by the high neck guard of the armor, I blinked and flared my wings agitatedly. The fire had eaten away almost all of the support of the ceiling; it would be coming down at any moment. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful. Stepping over to where Nova crouched next to Garren, I scooped him up as best I could into the crook of one massively armored arm. Up close, he looked even worse. In addition to the burns inflicted by the fire, he still had the wounds from the battle before. His head flopped limply back and forth on his neck, strands of charred hair falling across his ash streaked face. But he was still breathing. Nova pulled herself up almost onto my shoulder; idly, I made a note to thank Ark for such a massive dragoon armor.
If Tulia had noticed the state of the ceiling, she gave no sign. Smiling fixedly, she stared at the muzzle of the cannon. "Why don't you kill us? Surely you could with that thing."
"Give me one reason why I should not." I growled. It was the truth. She sided with the Moon Child, had lured us into this deathtrap, and had nearly killed my friend with one of those accursed bolts. "Just one reason."
Whether or not she had a reason, I never discovered. With a groan the ceiling bellied inwards, hanging precariously for a moment before breaking apart, timbers half again as thick around as my waist mixed with shards and chunks of crystal from the roof above us. All in one deadly rain, pelting downwards to smash through the stones below. And us as well.
Reflexes are a funny thin. Even while the mind is paralyzed with terror, the body can react without direct instruction, falling back on the instinct to live. I wasn't even aware of myself raising the cannon and firing until the beam of silver-blue light was blasting a path clear through the falling rubble, and by then I was following close on its tail.
Bursting free of the roof of the crystal palace, we emerged into the faint light of dawn. The blizzard had blown off, leaving behind a fresh coat of snow stretching as far as the eye could see, glowing gold on the horizon where the sun had begun its slow accent into the purple-grey sky. My eyes were not on the glory of the new dawn, however. Breaking off my flight to hover about a hundred or so feet above the glittering roof of the crystal palace, I watched detachedly as what remained of the ceiling over the chamber fell in. Below the blue crystal that sheathed the rest of the roof I could see emerald flames spreading through the wooden beams below. In minutes the fire would have spread through the rest of the palace, engulfing everything. If Ragnarok had broken the palace all those years ago in his true body, the fight we had pitched in the Council Chambers had destroyed it. By evening, nothing would remain of the ancient structure save the rubble and the foundation of the lower floors.
//Finish it// For once Ark's 'voice' held none of its usual commanding tone. I guessed that finally he was as tired as I was.
Raising the cannon, I fired off two bolts of energy into the gaping hole above what remained of the council chambers. One would have been enough. Two was overkill. Even so, it seemed necessary. The sound of the explosion when they struck probably started off avalanches in the mountains for fifty miles in every direction, but by then we were racing away from the ruined palace as fast as my six wings could carry us, blasting across the snowy fields and hills towards Ulara. Nova had managed to pull herself down next to Garren; she had taken off what remained of her coat and was trying to use it to protect him from the cutting wind. The blood from her wounds had all but dried up; out of all of us, she was still in the best health. My back burned from the untended wounds, and even braced in the cannon I could feel jolts of pain shooting up and down my arm. Garren wasn't the only one who needed medical attention. Doing my best to shove what I had just done out of my mind, I fixed my thoughts on reaching Ulara.
"It's the living that matters, not the dead." The words were whipped away in the wind as soon as I uttered them, but it didn't matter. Garren and Nova were the living, and Garren's life, at least, depended on getting him to Ulara as quickly as possible.
Shade: **Slumps in exhaustion** There. I did it. I went through six strawberries and two liters of Pepsi, but I did it. I'm fairly sure that I would recognize Immortal by Adema and Torn Apart by Stabbing Westward even if they were played backwards, I listened to them so many times while writing the last part. But Ha! Writer's block gone! Thank you for your patience. For those of you who are wondering, I'm done with the (almost) pointless repetition of hunting Moon Kids. They piss me off almost as much as they do Ragnarok, but hey, they gave me a plot while I maneuvered everything in place I needed. Maybe two more chapters, then I can close off part one.
Garren: **Throws a shoe at her** Not yet! Make me get better first! I'm not spending the rest of my life as a vegetable!
Shade: Fine. **Stumbles back off toward her laptop, but smacks into a wall and collapses to the floor** ehhh. right after sleepysleepysleep.
To Fried Chicken: O.O; that officially ranks right up there as one of the strangest questions I've ever been asked, on or off line. After careful consideration, I finally came to this conclusion: In 700-odd years, Dart is bound to have gone into a bar one night and woken up in someone else's bed the next morning. More than once. As for Ragnarok, I'm sure he spent the next couple weeks inventing and re-inventing snide remarks and such.
**Dream sequence**
Dart's POV:
** "So it is agreed then?"
The High Priestess of the Moon Cult in Serdio, a tall black haired woman who went by the name Tulia glared at the speaker. Nero, the High Priest of the Cult in Mille Seseau, returned the look impassively. Umaar, representative of the Tiberoian Cult sat on the edge of his chair, glancing nervously between the two. Nero and Tulia had never gotten along; their struggle for absolute power over all chapters of the cult was stuff of legend. And now Umaar found himself in the middle of yet another of those conflicts as the two bristled at each other from either side of the table.
The forth person seated, King Randal of Mille Seseau, cleared his throat. "I said, is it agreed?"
"No, it is not agreed!" Tulia snapped, ignoring the king's startled look. "Nero's plan is about as secure as a bag of gold sitting in the middle of a Lohan marketplace. The Moon Child has been hidden from the Black Monster hundreds of times in the past, and it has never worked once. No matter what we do, he always knows exactly where and how to strike." She shook her head, sending a ripple through her cascading hair. "By sending prince Damien away to some forsaken part of the content, all we are doing is moving the danger away from ourselves by serving him to the Monster on a silver platter."
"You sound as though you have a better idea." Nero's voice was steady. It was rare that the overweight Priest showed any sign of emotion; if men and woman of the cloth had been allowed to play at cards, Nero's impassive face would have won him his weight in gold.
"I do. If we take up a defensive position within the palace and wait for the Monster to come to us, we could kill him before he even gets anywhere near the prince."
Randal bit his lip, torn between sacrificing his son or his home as he struggled to keep abreast of the situation. In spite of himself, Umaar felt his lip curl with disdain. Randal was a weak King, almost totally incapable of running the country on his own. It was because of this weakness that the Moon Cult was able to all but completely rule Mille Seseau, but Umaar still felt disgusted every time he looked at the man. How this idiot had ever managed to beat out his brother Christopher in the race for the throne never ceased to amaze him.
"And how do you propose to do that? People have tried to stand up to the Black Monster before. Every single one of them has died."
"He may be a Monster," Tulia purred, "but he's not immortal."
"Well he certainly appears to be."
"Appearances are often very different from the reality."
"Oh? And how do you propose to hurt it?" Nero asked, raising one eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair, looking slowly around the room as though he might find the answer to his question somewhere within the dark paneled study.
The study in which they sat was the King's own, although judging from the dust that had gathered upon the text and scrolls resting on the shelves of the bookcases, it was rarely used for that purpose. Randal simply didn't have the brainpower. There were no windows; just four stone walls, three of them adorned with tapestries depicting the deeds of valor from long days past. The high ceiling was lost in shadow, not reached by the light from the fireplace that occupied the far wall. It was to this fireplace that Nero's attention was drawn. Resting atop of the ornately carved mantle was a plain wooden case perhaps the length of a man's arm and twice as thick with a heavy iron latch.
Following his gaze, Tulia smiled thinly. "You're curious, are you not?" Pushing back her chair away from the table, she rose to her feet and straightened her long green robes. "Shall I show you?" Crossing to the fireplace she lifted down the box and set it on the stones of the hearth. Thumbing open the fastenings, she removed the top of the case and set it on the floor next to her. After regarding the contents of the case for a few moments, she delicately selected two long objects, one wrapped in green velvet, the other in white. Returning to the table, she placed the items before her.
"As you know, the researchers in Kazas have studied the magical properties of dragon fire for centuries. It is a fascinating thing, really." As she spoke, Tulia had begun to remove the velvet. "Fascinating, but never practical. A pain to produce and extract, and beyond healing and powering lifts, they were never able to exert enough control to make anything productive of it. Until a few years ago." Pushing the velvet to one side, she reached out and set what appeared to be two glass crossbow bolts filled with light in the center of the table. "These, your Majesty, are what will bring down the Black Monster."**
I groaned into my pillow, but the soft down muffled the sound. Rolling out of bed, I staggered over to the washbasin and splashed some cold water on my face and neck in an effort to wake up fully. No good. The memory of the dream was still there, as clear as the water that sloshed against the sides of the basin.
//Finally// Ark grumbled. //I was starting to wonder if we hadn't missed it already//
/I almost wish we had/
//Stop that. Get dressed, and then wake the others. We have to get a move on//
Reaching for my shirt, I glanced out the window and suppressed another groan. Snow was falling heavily in the darkness outside, clogging the streets and turning the waterways into a mess of slush and ice. Just my luck that winter would decide to arrive all in one rush tonight, of all nights. Pulling my shirt over my head and strapping on my sword belt, I grabbed my jacket and pulled it on. I had had to replace my last one soon after we had arrived in Furni, but this one was much the same as the others; plain serviceable black, maybe a little better made than the ones before.
I finished dressing quickly, grabbed my sword and anything I would need, and then stepped outside into the hallway. Locating Garren's room, I pounded on the door until he opened it, still groggy with sleep. When I was sure he was listening and not just bobbing his head in response to whatever the hell I was saying, I told him to rouse Nova and come downstairs as quickly as possible. That done, I headed down to the common room.
Except for a few late night drinkers, the common room was empty. The smoky tallow candles had burned down to stumps amid small pools of melted wax in their holders, and the fire was little more than a pile of glowing embers on the hearth. Tom the bartender sat on a stool next to the sink, absently wiping a cracked mug as he kept a weary eye on the last few customers. As I reached the bottom of the stairs he jumped, setting the mug down with a bang. "Mr. Tien! What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked suspiciously.
"Leaving, I hope. My friends and I have to catch an early ship out of here to Doneau to meet with a friend, and the captain wants us onboard to help prepare for the voyage. He's a little short on crew, I take it."
Tom grunted his approval and went back to wiping his mugs. "If you're after an early breakfast, you're out of luck. The cook doesn't get up for another hour or two yet, and I ain't touching no stove." Tossing his rag down onto the bar, he stumped over to the drowsy customers and began to rouse them with curses and complaints. "C'mon, budge yerselves! Closing time!"
I seated myself on a stool and leaned back against the wall to wait for Garren and Nova. /So what next? Should I ask Nova to warp us right to Deningrad, or would it be better that we rode?/
//Ask her. You don't want to waste any time in weather like this// Ark paused, and I could feel him sifting through my memories of the dream. //What interests me are those crossbow bolts that the Priestess was holding. You shouldn't have woken up so soon. If you'd hung around longer we might have been able to find out what she planned to do with them//
/The green is an unquenchable fire that burns perpetually. The white is a healing flame that will cure just about anything/
//Hmm?//
/When we snuck into Kazas looking for emperor Doel, we ran into some of those researchers that Tulia was talking about. They didn't know much about the flames at all; save for the fact that it was linked to dragons and that one harmed and the other healed/ I shifted my position. /She probably means to shoot us with the green one/
//Really? I hadn't guessed//
/Those bolts looked like they were made of glass, Ark. They'll shatter the moment they meet any sort of resistance, especially if they're shot from a crossbow. Glass shards coupled with fire. And if she decides to distribute them among the temple guards, we could be in for a rough time/
//Then we won't give her the time. We'll warp in and destroy the child before she even gets the chance//
/Unless she'd already distributed them/ I muttered darkly. /I'm not looking forward to this. I don't fancy being lit on fire/
//Neither do I//
Muttering to myself under my breath, I turned on my stool as Nova and Garren appeared at the bottom of the stairs, both of them yawning and blinking in the smoky light. "You two alright?"
"What's-" Nova stifled a huge yawn, "S'cuse me. What's going on?"
I glanced over at Tom, who was arguing with a filthy bar patron who looked particularly reluctant to leave. "I just got the heads up on the Child. He was born to the royal family of Mille Seseau, so it looks as though we're heading to Deningrad." I gave Nova a hard look. "Could you warp us there? The weather's pretty nasty out there right now."
Nova bit her lip, considering. "Probably. The weather might complicate things a bit, but I think that I could manage."
"Wonderful. Oh, and once we're in there, keep an eye out for anyone with a crossbow. Whatever you do, don't allow them to get too close to you. It'll be worth your life if you do." Dropping a handful of coin onto the bar to pay for our stay, I crossed the common room to the dingy glass pained door and wrenched it open, letting in a gust of wind that caused the candles to stutter and the embers in the fire to flare momentarily back into life before dimming again. Turning the collar of my jacket up against the wind, I bowed my head and stepped outside into the blizzard.
Aside from the faint light filtering through the grimy windows of The Dragon, the street outside was dark. Crossing the road to the shadows of a doorway across the street, I waited impatiently while Nova prepared for the jump. I could hardly make her out against the background of swirling snow, hood pulled up and hands tucked into the sleeves of her coat as she muttered quietly to herself. Finally she raised her head, freeing her hands and extending one to me and the other to Garren. "This might take a few tries," she reminded us, "So just try to be patient, okay?"
Garren started to respond, but whatever it was that he had been about to say was drowned out as the hum of magic filled my ears and the world dissolved into a brilliant green light. Somewhere in the back of my mind the hum was slowly turning into an aching reverberation, but I ignored it. Any moment now the light would fall away-
-And it was replaced with darkness. The freezing wind lashed at my body, sending me stumbling backwards into Garren, who overbalanced and was knocked face first into the powdery snow. Raising one hand to shield my eyes against the wind, I saw Nova, her silver hair seemingly incandescent in the darkness. "Nova-?"
"I overshot! Hold on a moment, okay?" She struggled forward, grabbing Garren's hand as he jolted back onto his feet and taking a firm grip on my shoulder. For a moment there was nothing but the sound of the wind howling across the endless expanse of the snowfields. And then once again we were swallowed up in that green light.
//So much for catching them by surprise// Ark grumbled. //At this rate, it will take all night to reach Deningrad//
/Will you relax?/ I almost laughed in spite of myself. Me, telling him to relax? It should have been the other way around. /She'll get us there/
//Yes, but when?//
It took another three tries for Nova to land us inside the relative shelter of the city walls. Exhausted and drenched with sweat she slumped to her knees, drained from the effort of warping back and forth over several hundred miles worth of the continent. "Finally," she gasped, wiping her brow, "I was starting to wonder if I would ever find it." She gave a little huff of breath as Garren wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet again.
"Hey, at least we made it." Still supporting Nova, Garren glanced over at me, then at the narrow street in which we stood. "Er, this IS Deningrad, isn't it?"
"It sure as hell isn't Furni." I shifted my belt around so that my sword wasn't quite so obvious. "Nova, will you be okay?" When she nodded, I started up the street in the general direction of the palace. "Come on. Garren, you're going to have to warp us in if the doors are closed."
//Soa forbid that should happen. He'd probably land us in the guardhouse//
/True, but I don't think that we need to tell him that/
Oblivious to Ark's remarks Garren nodded and followed, helping Nova along with her arm slung across his shoulders.
The streets were still dark, but the bellies of the clouds on the western horizon had begun to glow with the coming of dawn though it was still a ways off. The snow had abated somewhat; that is to say that we could see farther than three feet in front of us. No lamps burned in the windows of the houses and shops lining the snowy streets. The town slept quietly, tucked in neatly under a chilly white blanket. And over it all towered the crystal palace, rearing up from the core of the city to scrape the clouds with its crystal spires. The heart of Mille Seseau, home of the state and royal family. And now the Moon Child as well.
/Do you think we'll be able to get in unnoticed?/ I asked as we made our way through the slippery cobbled stone streets.
//Get in, yes. Moving around could be a bit more of a challenge//
/Great. Just what we need/ The doors of the palace loomed up out of the swirling snow, a dark, unadorned archway in the near darkness. I didn't expect to see any guards, but I peered into the dark shadows surrounding the door before we approached it, just to be sure. When I was positive that we were alone, I beckoned Garren over.
Garren's POV:
The doors were locked. Well, of course they were locked; my luck always plays that sort of trick on me. Just once I'd like to be able to approach a problem and have the solution handed to me on a silver platter. But really, the odds of that ever happening? Zilch to none. But now that I think about it, if I didn't have to come up with so many solutions, I'd really have no fun with my absurdly long life.
Leaving Nova with Dart, I made a quick jump past the gates and into the entry hall of the palace. I'd been here once before, several hundred years ago with Dart, and I vaguely remembered seeing an open space underneath the huge marble stairwell that led into the interior of the Crystal Palace. My aim for once wasn't too bad; the shadows under the stairs flickered green momentarily as I reappeared, then faded back into darkness. Breathing lightly I stayed in a crouch, the top of my head brushing the underside of the marble steps, waiting to see if anyone had noticed any sign of my arrival, but the hall was silent. Well, almost silent. Someone was pacing back and forth near the doors, their footsteps accompanied by the quiet clink of chain mail. One of the knights, more than likely. Crawling around to the edge of the stairwell, I strained my neck to get a better look.
I bit back an oath. The soldier standing with his back to me wasn't wearing the traditional white cloak or silver mail that was the mark of one of the Knights of Mille Seseau. Instead the armor was a dull black, oddly angular in its construction. A dread knight of the cult. Dart had told me about them, but I'd never actually seen one before. Founded not long after the cult, they had been a sort of personal army at first, open to almost anyone who could pick up a weapon. As time passed the requirements changed; only the elite could join their ranks, which by necessity never numbered more than fifty. If they had brought in the dread nights, then they were planning on fighting this one out. It also meant that they probably didn't have the luxury of a dragoon stone at the moment.
I was so intent on the man watching the door that I almost didn't notice the second dread knight coming down the stairs until it was too late. Ducking back out of sight as the man came down the stairs almost over my head, I waited until he was approaching the other man before risking poking my head out again. Two of them! Luck must really hate me.
"Is everything quiet, Benin?"
The knight by the door jumped, sounding a loud clank with his armor as he did so. When he realized who had spoken, he managed to recover some of his dignity by smashing one mailed gauntlet into his chest. "Yes sir, Lord Claskin, sir!"
Claskin shook his head. "How many times must I tell you, Benin? I'm not your lord any more. I gave that up when we left Serdio. Don't bother with titles."
"Yes sir, Lord Claskin, sir!"
I bit back a snicker. I'd seen parrots before, colorful birds imported from the tropical regions of Endiness. A lady in Lohan had tried to sell me one once; she had trained the birds to speak, but they only knew a few phrases and repeated them endlessly until you got so angry at them that you wanted nothing more than to throw them out a window and be done with it. From the look this Claskin was giving his former manservant, I guessed that he must have similar sentiments.
Sighing, Claskin pulled off his helm and kneaded his brow. He was a tall, well built man of middle years: gray had just begun to touch his temples, but his face remained unlined. A long scar ran up his cheekbone, and his nose was crooked as though it had been broken at sometime or another. I took in that much in a glance. My second glance, however was drawn to the crossbow he was cradling in the crook of his left arm. Benin held one also, but with the ease of someone who knew how to use it well. He was shorter than Claskin, and younger. He seemed almost portly, although it could have just been the fit of the armor.
Jamming the helm back onto his head, Claskin turned as if to leave. AS he did so I stepped out smoothly from behind the stone balustrade, a ball of flame leaping to life in each hand. There wasn't much else for it, now.
For a moment, he just stared, eyes wide and mouth working silently. Only a moment, though. Getting hold of his surprise, he raised his crossbow, opening his mouth to shout a warning as he did so. My first fireball caught him in the chest, burning a hole through his armor. He clamped his mouth shut, staring dumbly at his shaking hand as he raised it to his breastplate. Then without a sound he tumbled over backwards to the flagstones.
Before Claskin had even struck the ground Benin was wheeling about, rage painted on his face as he lifted his weapon to his shoulder. Rage turned into shock as the crossbow suddenly exploded in a shower of sparks and splinters. Before the thick man could move my third fireball struck him in the head, sending the helm bouncing and rolling across the floor. His body simply slumped to the ground, landing beside Claskin's.
Averting my eyes from my work, I hurried to the door. Halfway there, though, I paused and forced myself to grab Claskin's still form and drag him back under the stairs. A moment later, Benin followed. That done, I returned to the doors. It was only the work of a moment to open the heavy iron lock, jamming down the latch with both hands, and the door swung inward.
Dart stumbled in covered in snow, with Nova close behind him. As I jammed the door shut again, I heard him growl into my ear. "What took you so long?"
"I had to deal with something first." I looked pointedly at the charred remains of the crossbow. The floor nearby was smudged slightly with blood, leading in a smeared trail back to the staircase. Locking the door again I turned around, only to face Nova. She stood a few paces away, staring at me. I tried to meet her gaze, then dropped my eyes and shivered. She was looking at me as though she was staring at a stranger. Unconsciously, I reached up to brush the hair out of my eyes, but I stopped when I caught sight of my hand. It was stained with blood. Benin's blood.
I felt my stomach heave, but before I could bring anything up Dart was rushing up the stairs. Nova watched me for a moment longer, then followed. Clamping my teeth together in a grimace, I followed. Part of me wished that I could explain it to her, that I hadn't had a choice and try to make her understand. The other part of me was just glad that she couldn't see what was under the stairs she was running up. As I passed the remains of the crossbows, however, I stopped.
Lying amid the pile of splinters was a crossbow bolt that looked as though it were made of glass. Even more interesting were the emerald flames that danced inside it. This was probably what Dart had been warning us about, but out of curiosity I plucked it up. It was warm to the touch, although not as warm as fire should have been. It shone in the firelight, the barbed glass tip glittering. Kind of pretty, actually. Slipping it into the pocket of the overcoat I'd donned upon leaving the inn, I raced back up the stairs.
At the landing I halted and looked around. The hall was empty, save for a sentry at the very top of the stairs. Thankfully, his back was to me. But where had Dart and Nova gone?
Hands settled on my shoulders; before I could react I had been half- carried, half-dragged into a side chamber. "Don't stand around like that in the open like that, idiot. Do you want to be turned into a flaming pincushion?" Dart released me as Nova quietly shut the door behind us.
Something in the tone alerted me to the change. Rubbing the spot on my shoulders where I was fairly sure the man's grip had left a bruise, I took a step back. "I love you too, Ragnarok. What happened to Dart?"
"He's trying to figure out where they've penned up the Moon Child. There are a fair number of possibilities, so I'm taking over while he narrows it down. He's not one for multitasking. Limited brain power, you understand." He paused a moment, a half-grin hovering on his features, then barked out a laugh. I'm not really sure how the whole speaking bit works between them, but I was fairly sure that Dart had just delivered his retort.
Nova was standing at the door, still looking rather pale. Steeling myself, I walked up to her quietly and almost rested a hand on her shoulder before I thought the better of it. Instead I leaned in close, keeping my voice low. "Are you okay? You look kind of, well-" I trailed off as she turned to glare at me, but the look only lasted a moment.
"I'm fine." She responded, but her voice sounded hollow in my ears.
"You sure?"
"Yes." She bit her lip. "No. What did you do back there?"
Great. "Nothing that I wanted to." I averted my eyes, staring at a knothole in the door a few feet distant. "Nova, it was them or me. Believe me, if there had been another way-" I trailed off again, this time lost for words. I shrugged helplessly.
Nova bit her lip, and for a moment I was afraid she wouldn't accept my answer. Not that I would blame her. Hell, I didn't even accept it. I shook my head. What was wrong with me? That wasn't the first time I had been in a situation like that; why was it bothering me now, of all times?
My musing was cut short as Ragnarok grunted. "Alright, come on. The easiest room to defend is probably the council chambers. There's a narrow hallway leading to it, and a narrow doorway to get through. It's right above the throne room." He glanced at Nova. "Could you warp us in from our current location?"
Nova shook her head. "Not in a building like this. I wouldn't know where to go." She paused. "If we could get into the throne room, or even the room next to it, I could probably jump in without any problems." She ran a hand through her long hair; it was still wet from the melted snow.
"You sure?" Ragnarok frowned. It was strange, being able to tell who was in control of the man's body when. The eyes of the divine dragon were said to have held death, back when he was in his true form. Even now, I could tell how true that had been. Even now, caught behind the eyes of a human, I could all but see the flames burning. "They'll be expecting us to go to the throne room." He muttered, half to himself. "We'll want to avoid that if we can: they'll probably have set up a guard of some sort to distract us." Rubbing at his forehead under the bandana, he was quiet a moment before coming to a conclusion. "Alright. Somewhere around here there should be another doorway. When they rebuilt the palace, they built a network of passages so that the servants could make their way in and out most of the rooms without being seen. We'll take those as far as we can, then see where that leaves us."
The side chamber we were in was small, hardly larger than my own quarters back in Ulara, so it didn't take very long to find the doorway. It had been concealed behind a large floor length tapestry, so that whoever the room's occupants customarily were, they wouldn't have to look at it. Inwardly, I was disgusted. Who had this king thought he was anyhow? If he was so arrogant that he didn't even want to have to look at his own servants, I hoped that he had suffered a short rule. Still musing, I followed Nova through the little door, pulling it firmly shut behind me.
The passages were constructed of rough stone; a sharp contrast to the marble and crystal sheathed walls of the more public parts of the palace. The floor was worn smooth from centuries of use and torches burned low in sconces every ten feet or so along the walls, but the air was heavy with the scent of dust and smoke. Trying not to cough, we made our way through the maze of passages. They seemed to lead everywhere at once; now that the sky was long out of sight, my sense of direction was killed. Ragnarok, at least, seemed to know where we were going. He led us without hesitating, down a set of narrow stairs and through several different branches of passages. Judging from the way that he was muttering to himself, the dragon was doing this on his own; Dart seemed to be as lost as I was.
Twice we stopped at doorways, waiting while Ragnarok checked which room it was. At the first he returned almost immediately, shaking his head, but at the second he slammed the door behind him immediately he entered. There was a yell, the sounds of a scuffle, and then everything was still. Gritting my teeth and clenching my fist around the metal knuckles, I shouldered open the door.
Ragnarok was inside, crouched over the bloody body of one of the fallen, calmly wiping his odd blade on the man's cloak. Two other forms were sprawled nearby, the nearest appearing to have been thrown against the wall. He was crumpled on the rug, his neck bent on an impossible angle. I avoided looking at the other too closely; I had seen Ragnarok fight with that sword before. Dart could be coldhearted when he needed to be, but the dragon far out shadowed him in that respect. There's a saying that the only safe enemy is a dead enemy, and I understand that. But Ragnarok takes it to extremes.
"Them or us." Nova said quietly. She stood at my shoulder, eyes wandering around the room, taking in detail haphazardly. For some reason it didn't seem to bother her as much as it had when she couldn't see the results of the fight. Or maybe because this was the sort of thing that she expected from Ragnarok. Without thinking I fumbled about until I found her hand and gave it a small squeeze, which she returned.
Ragnarok stood, but didn't sheath his sword. A small shiver seemed to run through him, and his stance relaxed as Dart regained control. Glancing around the room, his eyes fell on the crumpled dread knight lying at his feet. Shaking his head he stepped away.
"Where are we?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
"Next to the throne room." Dart's eyes wandered up to the ceiling. "They should be right up there." Without hesitation, he reached out and gently took hold of Nova's wrist. "Okay?" When she finally nodded, he shifted his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Be ready for anything. By now, they know we're coming."
Dart's POV:
Nova swallowed and closed her eyes. The usual throbbing in my head was nothing more than a sting this time, just as the green light was nothing more than a flash. One moment were were standing in the side chamber, the next we were standing in the council chamber.
The council chamber was crowded with a score or more dread knights, half milling about near the entrance, the rest standing rigidly at attention in a line at the far end. In the gaps between them I could see the priests from the dream and a thin weedy man with a weak chin who I remembered as King Randal. He stood beside his wife, a plump woman who might have been pretty were it not for the look of stark terror on her face. In her arms she cradled a red-wrapped bundle.
In the startled silence that greeted our appearance, I let go of Nova's shoulder and bolted for the line of knights guarding the Moon Child, sword held low. I had almost reached them when Nova's voice broke the silence.
"DUCK!"
Without pause I hurled myself forward into a roll as the snap of bowstrings and scream of crossbow bolts filled the air. Most of them passed harmlessly overhead; a couple struck the ground next to me -exploding in small bursts of glass and green flame- but by the time I was back on my feet the soldiers had discarded the crossbows and drawn their swords, leaping as one to meet me.
Parrying a thrust, I smashed one of the dread knights in the face with my elbow even as a slash from one of his companions opened a shallow cut in my side that ran from shoulder blade to hip. Outnumbered, I let myself be pushed back a few steps before dropping to one knee and slashing at ankle height. As one of the knights jumped to avoid the blade I completed the maneuver, reversing the slash and bringing it up on an angle at neck height. The knight fell, and two more leapt to take his place even as another gash was opened on my thigh. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the green flame from the crossbow bolts licking hungrily at wall hangings and curtains.
It was madness. I lost myself in the fight, only dimly aware of the blood streaming down my face from a gash above my right eye. I moved automatically, countering, slashing, and thrusting, as I tried to cut my way through to where the priests stood watching calmly from the far end of the chamber. Twice I slipped on the blood slick floor and almost went down, but each time I managed to recover somehow. Absently I realized that was wielding my sword with only one hand; my left arm hung uselessly at my side, sharp stabbing pains running through it from a break in the bone. Ark was shouting something; almost without realizing it I activated my spirit. Startled, the knights fell back a step or two as I was momentarily engulfed in the familiar grayish-silver light. Slowly, as though rising to the surface from the depths of a lake, I became aware of my own thoughts again. And the fact that Ark was yelling himself hoarse.
//What the hell do you think you were doing!?//
/I couldn't help it/ Taking advantage of the enemy's confusion I slashed out with my new blade, felling two with one stroke. Five on one, now. But at least I was back in control. /besides, you've taken on this many before/
//Not dread knights!// The fire had spread from the curtains to the walls; sulfur smelling smoke was slowly filling the chamber.
/If you were so upset, why didn't you take control?/ My left arm was still weak, but I was at least able to use the massive cannon to block. I turned aside another thrust and returned with one of my own. Four to go.
//I couldn't! Do you know how hard it is to shove you aside when you're that intent on fighting? You're almost as bad as me!// Ark snapped. //And watch your back; one of those tapestries is on fire//
/What's that supposed to mean? Everything is on fire!/ There was a sound like a muffled explosion and the dread knight nearest to me went down with a scream, and a burst of orange flame. Three more fireballs followed in quick succession, and then the room was silent.
Nova and Garren were both in the air above me, faces and clothes streaked with blood and sweat, but still in better condition than I. It appeared that wingly magic was much more effective than my sword when it came to the dread knights. "You okay?" Nova drifted down lower. Garren stayed up near the roof, glaring down at the priests. The high vaulted roof itself had caught fire; bits of burning plaster rained down on us. The only thing, in fact that didn't seem to be burning was the stone floor.
Someone was laughing quietly. Dropping my eyes, I realized that it was the dark haired priestess from the dream. Tulia had been her name. She stood at the forefront of the little group huddling at the far end of the hall -as far as they could be from us while staying clear of the flaming walls- holding a crossbow loaded with the familiar green bolt. For a minute the only sounds in the hall were the sound of her laughter coupled with the crackling of the flames.
She cut off laughing suddenly, her face intent. "Well, I must say, I'm impressed. But this was hardly what I'd expected for the legendary Black Monster. Two winglies, and unless I miss my guess, a dragoon? Hardly the twelve foot fire breathing fiend I was led to believe I would be facing." Idly, she lifted the crossbow and aimed it at my face. "Too bad that getting rid of you will be this easy."
She tensed, and I flinched. But at the last moment she re-adjusted her aim, swinging the crossbow up towards the ceiling and pulling the trigger in one movement.
Garren's scream echoed through the flaming chamber. As the scream faded he wavered, then felt out of the air to the stones below with a bone- jarring thud. And yet amazingly he still moved, trying to escape the green fire the was spreading over his chest and back. Laying on the floor with his back arched, tears streamed openly down his face as he tried to escape the pain.
/Ark-!/ I started, but Nova was quicker. Landing pale-faced beside her friend, she placed both her hands on his chest, ignoring the flames. Without warning pain exploded in the back of my head; for a moment the world reeled and stars swam before my vision before then it faded. As things seeped back into focus, I looked over to where Nova crouched over Garren. The flames had faded and he lay still, chest rising and falling slowly even though he seemed to be unconscious. Dark burns were visible through the charred remainder of his shirt.
Twenty feet away, Tulia arched one dark eyebrow. "Well," she murmured, "That was quite-" she trailed off as I leveled the cannon with her. See how she liked it, for a change.
Ignoring the weapon, she actually offered a small, predatory smile at me. "Go on. Kill us all. It won't change anything."
//She's bluffing// Ark muttered, and I repeated his comment.
Tulia laughed again, this time drawing uneasy looks from her companions behind her. "Do you think so? Why don't you allow me to explain." She pointed up to the burning ceiling. "See that? Any moment now that roof will fall, crushing us all." Her smile became twisted. "You can stay, kill us, and burn. Or you can escape, and allow us freedom also. It doesn't matter to me. Even if the Child dies, it will all be worth it to see you dead. And do you know why? Because then you won't be around 108 years in the future when the next Child is born."
/Damn it/ I glared at her, but kept my comments inside my head.
She laughed again. "You see Nero? I told you we could trap him."
The poker faced priest was sweating visibly. "Yes, but look at the mess you've landed us in! You never said anything about sacrificing our lives!
Tulia waved it aside as though the loss of their lives was a small matter. I guess that in her eyes it really was. "I didn't think I had to. Any follower of the Moon Child should be willing to throw down their lives for their god. Why should we be any different?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless your faith isn't as strong as we were lead to believe, Nero."
Nero swallowed, eyeing the cannon and trying to avoid looking directly at my face. "My faith is every bit as strong as it has ever been, Tulia." He started to say more, but was cut off with a yelp when a chunk of burning wood fell from the ceiling and smacked him across the back of the head. The woman holding the child jumped back quickly, staring at the burning brand as though it were a live snake.
More chunks of wood and plaster were falling now, dropping to the stones trailing flames or sparks. Craning my neck about to look upward, a movement made difficult by the high neck guard of the armor, I blinked and flared my wings agitatedly. The fire had eaten away almost all of the support of the ceiling; it would be coming down at any moment. Wonderful. Bloody wonderful. Stepping over to where Nova crouched next to Garren, I scooped him up as best I could into the crook of one massively armored arm. Up close, he looked even worse. In addition to the burns inflicted by the fire, he still had the wounds from the battle before. His head flopped limply back and forth on his neck, strands of charred hair falling across his ash streaked face. But he was still breathing. Nova pulled herself up almost onto my shoulder; idly, I made a note to thank Ark for such a massive dragoon armor.
If Tulia had noticed the state of the ceiling, she gave no sign. Smiling fixedly, she stared at the muzzle of the cannon. "Why don't you kill us? Surely you could with that thing."
"Give me one reason why I should not." I growled. It was the truth. She sided with the Moon Child, had lured us into this deathtrap, and had nearly killed my friend with one of those accursed bolts. "Just one reason."
Whether or not she had a reason, I never discovered. With a groan the ceiling bellied inwards, hanging precariously for a moment before breaking apart, timbers half again as thick around as my waist mixed with shards and chunks of crystal from the roof above us. All in one deadly rain, pelting downwards to smash through the stones below. And us as well.
Reflexes are a funny thin. Even while the mind is paralyzed with terror, the body can react without direct instruction, falling back on the instinct to live. I wasn't even aware of myself raising the cannon and firing until the beam of silver-blue light was blasting a path clear through the falling rubble, and by then I was following close on its tail.
Bursting free of the roof of the crystal palace, we emerged into the faint light of dawn. The blizzard had blown off, leaving behind a fresh coat of snow stretching as far as the eye could see, glowing gold on the horizon where the sun had begun its slow accent into the purple-grey sky. My eyes were not on the glory of the new dawn, however. Breaking off my flight to hover about a hundred or so feet above the glittering roof of the crystal palace, I watched detachedly as what remained of the ceiling over the chamber fell in. Below the blue crystal that sheathed the rest of the roof I could see emerald flames spreading through the wooden beams below. In minutes the fire would have spread through the rest of the palace, engulfing everything. If Ragnarok had broken the palace all those years ago in his true body, the fight we had pitched in the Council Chambers had destroyed it. By evening, nothing would remain of the ancient structure save the rubble and the foundation of the lower floors.
//Finish it// For once Ark's 'voice' held none of its usual commanding tone. I guessed that finally he was as tired as I was.
Raising the cannon, I fired off two bolts of energy into the gaping hole above what remained of the council chambers. One would have been enough. Two was overkill. Even so, it seemed necessary. The sound of the explosion when they struck probably started off avalanches in the mountains for fifty miles in every direction, but by then we were racing away from the ruined palace as fast as my six wings could carry us, blasting across the snowy fields and hills towards Ulara. Nova had managed to pull herself down next to Garren; she had taken off what remained of her coat and was trying to use it to protect him from the cutting wind. The blood from her wounds had all but dried up; out of all of us, she was still in the best health. My back burned from the untended wounds, and even braced in the cannon I could feel jolts of pain shooting up and down my arm. Garren wasn't the only one who needed medical attention. Doing my best to shove what I had just done out of my mind, I fixed my thoughts on reaching Ulara.
"It's the living that matters, not the dead." The words were whipped away in the wind as soon as I uttered them, but it didn't matter. Garren and Nova were the living, and Garren's life, at least, depended on getting him to Ulara as quickly as possible.
Shade: **Slumps in exhaustion** There. I did it. I went through six strawberries and two liters of Pepsi, but I did it. I'm fairly sure that I would recognize Immortal by Adema and Torn Apart by Stabbing Westward even if they were played backwards, I listened to them so many times while writing the last part. But Ha! Writer's block gone! Thank you for your patience. For those of you who are wondering, I'm done with the (almost) pointless repetition of hunting Moon Kids. They piss me off almost as much as they do Ragnarok, but hey, they gave me a plot while I maneuvered everything in place I needed. Maybe two more chapters, then I can close off part one.
Garren: **Throws a shoe at her** Not yet! Make me get better first! I'm not spending the rest of my life as a vegetable!
Shade: Fine. **Stumbles back off toward her laptop, but smacks into a wall and collapses to the floor** ehhh. right after sleepysleepysleep.