Shade: **drinking raspberry tea, munching on cheese and listening to the
Two Towers soundtrack while typing furiously**
Whoa. Rapid fire updates. Well, what with all of my friends seemingly disappearing up to New Brunswick for camps, there's not much else to do around here save playstation (Ursula bad! Shade smash!) and writing. And drawing, I suppose, but I'm in a creative rut at the moment. So, yea! Look at me type! **tappitytappitytappitytap**
Zion's POV:
The night faded into the gray pre-dawn, the bellies of the clouds on the horizon tainted rose-orange with the impending sunrise. Not that the sun would show its face, of course. Overnight, clouds had rolled in from the ocean to the west to cover the sky as far as the eye could see. The sky hung heavy with the woolly things; they rode sullenly on the gusting winds that swept the forest below, setting the branches and leaves of the trees to shaking and swaying. The wind carried the scent of rain and lightening, a grim forerunner for the storm that was to come.
Sitting atop my tired mount, I did my best to ignore the wind. Storms like the one impending were uncommon in the middle of summer, but not unheard of. Pulling up the hood of my cloak, it was immediately blown off of my head and hung uselessly down my back. I didn't bother to replace it; I had found the cloak stored in the saddlebags of the animal the night before and had put it on to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to seep into the forest around one or two in the morning. It was an ill fit, but then again most garments that aren't my own are. When you stand some three or four inches over six feet, you just have to put up with that sort of thing.
My horse shifted nervously as the wind buffeted its side, and I placed a hand on its neck to quiet it. We stood on a hilltop near the edge of the forest, although the rocky surface of this caused it to be devoid of all but the most scraggily of trees. About a mile of narrow road was visible from here, winding slowly back through the forest. It was this that I watched now, straining my eyes to see through the waving tree branches. Aside from the odd animal and the waving leaves on the trees, nothing moved. Turning my animal around, I started down the far side of the hill at a lumbering walk. If that man had decided to follow me through the woods, I would have seen him by now for sure. Maybe he hadn't been after my gold last night after all.
But then why had he been following me last night? He hadn't been with Cyclos, of that much I was sure. Ry. That had been his name. At least, that had been the name that he had given. Too many people coming out of Lohan these days gave false aliases. I shook my head and pushed the horse into a jolting trot. Whatever his motive had been, he was gone now.
I rode for another six hours or so, alternating between a ground eating trot and an ambling walk that allowed both the horse and myself a bit of a rest. I hadn't slept in twenty four hours or more, and after all of yesterdays fighting I felt as though I had been bundled up in a sack and rolled down a rocky hill a couple of times. The wounds had healed, of course, but potions don't do anything to replace lost energy. When I finally rode out of the forest and onto the fields of tilled earth that surround the city Kazas it was becoming an effort not to sway in the saddle. The clouds could hold their burden no longer and it began to rain; only a light mist at first, but before I had come halfway across the fields it had become a steady downpour. I may as well have not been wearing the cloak, as the cloth was soaked through within moments. Grumbling halfheartedly about poorly oiled cloth, I rode slouched in the saddle as we ambled past a large pond; a hissing sound filled the air as the rain from the storm pelted the dimpled surface. The road, which had been hard packed dirt and stone when I had left the city a week before, was quickly turning to mud under my horse's feet. Thunder rumbled sullenly in the distance, and the sky flickered momentarily as lightning danced above the slate-colored clouds.
All in all, it was a rather depressing reception for the home coming champion.
Not that anyone would see me that way. The city walls loomed up ahead of me; turning to the right I rode parallel to them until I came to the gates. Massive, twenty foot tall pieces of solid ironwork, the gates of Kazas are an imposing sight even when they are opened in welcome. Two sets of guards stood on either side of the gate; on one side, men girded in the chain mail coats of the city guard, on the other side stood four dread knights. The city guardsmen watched the dread knights warily, but for the most part the knights largely ignored them. As I approached, their attention was riveted on me. More than one of them reached for his sword as I passed, but at a stern order from their captain their hands snapped away as soon as their fingers brushed the hilt. Instead they eyed me grimly as I rode by; their dark glares shouting their hate louder than words ever could. The offense of attacking a priest was not easily forgotten.
I didn't realize that I had been holding my breath until I was among the buildings fifty feet from the gate. Cursing, I jerked the right rein, steering the horse irritably down a narrow road between two merchants houses. "Idiot. If they were going to kill you, they would have done it years ago in a public execution." Taking several more turns I made my way deeper into the city, the buildings around me getting steadily shabbier as I went. The buildings here were no smaller than those just inside the city gates, but they had a definite air of shabbiness bout them. Windows were covered with oiled paper rather than paned glass; here and there large chunks of plaster siding had crumbled away to reveal rotting wooden beams underneath. Halting finally, I dismounted in front of a rundown stable. A dirty, barefooted stable boy with jug ears came running out to take the reins of my animal, looking disappointed when I didn't give him a coin, but relieved that I didn't kick him instead. Before I could hurry off another, older boy came out, this time holding out a small iron chest. Digging into my pocket I found a couple of coins and dropped then through the narrow slot at the top of the box. The lad bowed his head slightly, then led me into the stable.
Three or four animals were tethered in stalls inside, looking well kept in spite of the living conditions. The air was filled with a musty smell from the old straw that had been scattered over the hard earth floor in attempt to ward off some of the damp. The jug eared boy appeared out of the farthest stall where I assumed my animal was to be kept, loaded down with heavy leather tack. Maybe I should have left him a tip after all. But before I could pursue the thought my guide opened a small door at the back of the stable and hustled me out into the soggy courtyard beyond. He didn't follow: the moment I had stepped out from under the roof the door slammed shut behind me.
There was a tavern on the far side of the courtyard, its dingy windows glowing invitingly, but I passed by it and slipped into the alley along the side of the building that would take me out onto the street. My sword made it a difficult fit; I had to turn sideways and sidle through the gap until I emerged out onto the street on the other side. Hurrying across the road with my sopping cloak flapping in the wind, I ducked into the doorframe of a low slate roofed house and rapped hard on the door. There was a shout from somewhere inside, followed by the sound of footsteps. The latch rattled and then the door opened a crack.
"Zion Damnen." A gruff female voice barked.
"I'm baa-ck." I put on as best a grin as I could manage. "Would you mind letting me in?"
"You up and left last week without telling a soul. Give me one good reason why I should."
"Because if you don't I'm going to sit under Tabby's window and howl like a wolf all night long."
The door opened grudgingly, and I stepped inside. Shedding my cloak, I wrung it out over the doorstep before dropping it into a pile on the floor. Shaking her head, the woman who had spoken waddled over and picked it up, hanging it on a nail next to the door. More than just plump, Remmy was a short woman with a round face and little, birdlike brown eyes. Plucking at the bun nestled at the nape of her neck with one hand, she pounded me heartily on the back in spite of her initial greeting. "It's nice to see you back, Zion. I was starting to wonder if you hadn't left for good this time."
"Why would I? All my stuff's here anyway. Oh, speaking of which-" I pulled a small leather purse from the satchel hanging from my belt and tossed it to her-"There's payment for last month's board."
Snagging it out of the air, the purse disappeared into the folds of her woolen dress. "Thank you." She froze suddenly, as though seeing me for the first time. With an inward groan I started to retreat down the hallway, but before I had gone two steps she had seized me by the arm and spun me back around to face her. She fingered my shirt, not missing the bloodstained rents in the arms and chest. "You've been fighting again," She said accusingly.
"Well-"
"I thought that you said that you'd given up on prize fighting!"
"I didn't get these prize fighting! These came after, while I was coming back-"
"After?" Her voice was sharp. She glared at me, suddenly looking much, much taller than I knew she really was. After what seemed an interminable silence, she released her grip on my arm and pushed me into the kitchen. Pointing to a stool, she bustled over to where a kettle was heating in the coals on the hearth. "Sit. And take off that shirt; I want to take a look at those wounds."
I shook my head, not bothering to tell her that I'd already been treated. But I obeyed anyway, setting my sword in a corner and tossing my ruined shirt on top of it. Setting a plate of porridge on the table in front of me, Remmy forced me into a chair and started to examine the thin scars crisscrossing my arms and back while I dug in. Answering her questions and relating what had happened in between bites, I forgot to mention to her for once that I really didn't like raisin porridge. Soon I was swaying back and forth in my seat; now that I was starting to dry and I had food in my stomach, all of the exhaustion of the past two days rushed to catch up with me.
Finally Remmy stood back from her inspection, apparently satisfied. "Well, you're luck. It seems that that Ry fellow had an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. Those scars will probably be gone in a month or two, if you're lucky. Tabby, what are you doing?"
I turned on my stool in time to see the little girl toddle into the kitchen, trailing a battered looking rag doll on the floor behind her. With her dark curly hair and pink little cheeks, Remmy's daughter looked a great deal like a doll herself. Without replying to her mother, she came to my side and poked me lightly in the ribs with one pink little finger. "Zion late."
Sticking my tongue out at her, I poked her lightly in the nose. "Yeah, Zion late." I pushed my bowl away and got to my feet. "Well, I'm going to bed. Throw something at me if you need anyone beat up, okay?"
My room was in the basement of the house, a dirt cellar that had apparently been a part of a fort when the city was young. There was little left to show for it aside from a few rotting beams protruding from the floor, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were true. Climbing down the wooden ladder, I sighed as I landed. There's always a certain satisfaction that comes with returning home for me, poor as it may be. A rickety table occupied the center of the room, a map and a dice cup resting atop it. A pile of clean clothes lay at the foot of my cot, shoved in the far corner of the little room. Drawing my sword from its sheath, I hung the sheath on its hook on the wall and set the blade on the table. Pulling an oily rag and a whetstone out of my bag, I set them next to the blade; the heavy canvas sack joined a pile of other assorted objects in another corner. I'd have to polish and whet the nicks out of my blade later, when I could see straight.
Kicking off my boots, I flopped down onto my cot and closed my eyes. At least Remmy had had the sense not to try to tidy my room while I was out. She was a good person, but she enjoyed mothering me too much. Under other circumstances I might have left the town entirely, were it not for Remmy and her daughter. She and her husband had taken me in after my run in with the cult, when no one else would. Even after my face had healed, she had allowed me to stay as a boarder. So when her husband died, leaving her alone with three month old Tabby, the least that I could do to repay her was to stay around and help her by bringing in money. I admit that was difficult; it's tough to earn money in a city where no one will hire you. And so quite by accident, I found myself entering competitions across Serdio as a prizefighter. Remmy wasn't very impressed by this, but I did my best to ignore her on matters like this. The last thing that I needed was another mother.
The thunder was over the city now, loud even in the cellar. Feeling the earth tremble as one particularly large crash shook the house above, I grabbed a blanket and pulled it over my head. Damn, I was tired. Now if only I could get to sleep.
Ragnarok's POV:
Dart pulled his mount up short and dismounted. /I don't think there's any sense in riding past here. The roads leading up towards the shrine are usually watched in any case/ Leading the animal back off the road into a clearing, he drove a peg into the ground and attached a tether to the horse's bridle. Fastening it tightly to the peg, he loosened the saddle girth before returning to the road. /Should we fly in or go on foot?/
//Vista will probably be right up on the mountain's peak// I replied slowly, working the strategy over in my mind. //Or close to it. Its probably sitting in low clouds at the moment, or very close to it. If you were to conceal yourself in the clouds and land further up the peak than the village, you could come at it on foot from above without being noticed until its too late//
Dart glanced up at the heavy grey clouds overhead. /I'm going to get soaked flying through that, you realize/
//We all have to make sacrifices// I reminded him philosophically.
Philosophical or not, it did little to quiet his mutterings when we broke through the top of the clouds several minutes later. Fanning his wings in attempt to shake off some of the moisture dripping off the spines of the long pinions, he made a noise of disgust as most of it settled into his hair. /Ark, I hate you, you know that?/ He glanced down at the cannon fixed to his left arm, not missing the water running in a little stream off of the forked end. /I look like the waterspout from hell/
Above the clouds the sun was just beginning to rise, turning the sky and the tops of the clouds a faint blushing pink-orange. Other thinner clouds drifted on currents in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, spread far and few between. It was an odd sight; thick clouds below and thin clouds above with nothing in between aside from a dragoon and hundreds of feet of air. Thunder rumbled ominously from the clouds underneath, and the thin air seemed almost to vibrate in the wake of the sound. //We had better get moving, Dart//
/Where about do you think the peak is?/ Dart asked, turning a slow circle.
//I'll know when I see it. Here, let me try// Brushing his mind aside, I took control and started to fly slowly in the direction of the rising sun, watching the clouds below us carefully. Thousands of years of experience living in the mountainous reaches of the continent had taught me to read the minute signs on the surface of the clouds to tell me what was beneath. The wind flows differently in accordance to the landmasses below, and it shows through the swirls in the cloud's surface. As I angled slightly higher to get a better look, a patch of erratically swirling cloud caught my attention. //There we go// Flipping over, I stooped into a shallow dive that brought us angling slowly through the cloud cover.
For the next few minutes we flew in silence. Travelling through cloud and emerging through the bottom without anyone from the village seeing us was going to require a substantial amount of luck even with my skill, and I wanted to leave as little to luck as possible.
Luck or skill, whichever the reason, we managed to make our landing on the eastern side of the summit three or four miles from the village outskirts. Swapping places with Dart again, I kept a watch as he made his way through the overgrown forest. It was raining lightly now, but only a few droplets made their way down through the canopy. Jumping into a partially dried up streambed Dart jogged along, his feet slipping every so often on the wet stones. /I can probably make it there in about an hour and a half. Maybe less if the forest isn't so overgrown further on/ Ducking under a branch, he continued on. /How do you want to do this?/
If I had my way, we would level the village with one shot before we got close enough for the winglies to notice. I had suggested as such before with other children, and both times Dart had rejected it almost as soon as he heard the words. This time however, he met the suggestion with silence. Not the stony silence that he usually met these ideas with, but considering. It was a measure of how serious matters had become in his mind that he was even thinking about it now. He was willing to kill Ayrel, and Asalla and Mathis too, if it came down to it, but an entire village? I waited expectantly while he sorted through the welter of confused emotions running through his mind.
/If we try to slip into the village and take her by stealth, Asalla will probably sense us before we get too close, won't she?/ He said slowly, the words sounding forced.
//Probably//
/And we'll have to track her down all over again/ He pushed a clump of wet hair back out of his face irritably. /But if we take out the whole village, then a lot of innocent people are going to die/
//Yes. And Ayrel with them. Which will probably save countless more lives in the long run//
Dart snarled aloud and threw a vicious kick at a rotten tree stump next to the stream bank, but I knew he had made his decision. Continuing along the streambed he said nothing, his mood growing so dark that if it became any more pronounced I could probably have cut it with a knife. The light rain intensified into a steady downpour, and thunder began to roll in the skies overhead as we made our way down the side of the mountain. Slipping and sliding down one slope covered with moss and old leaves, Dart stumbled out onto a rocky plateau that was maybe thirty feet wide and twice that across. A hundred feet below, in a shallow valley carved out between two of the mountain's peaks, was a cluster of small buildings surrounded by rings of what looked like tree stumps. Dart took one quick look before pulling back from the edge to the trees. /That must be Vista, then/ He said, voice heavy.
//Now Dart. Before anyone decides to get smart on us//
My partner said nothing, but I felt him reaching for his connection with the spirit lodged in his chest. A moment later it flared into life; reaching for my own link to the stone I did my best to moderate the glow that usually accompanied the appearance of the armor. It took a bit longer, with the armor shimmering and consolidating in pieces, but it cut down on the chances that anyone in the village below would notice anything strange. Cocking the cannon almost as soon as the transformation was completed, he began drawing energy into it and stepped up to the edge of the plateau. Taking careful aim, the cannon whined as the built up energy reached its maximum. /Let's get this over with, then/ Jerking his head away at the last instant, he fired.
The concussion from the blast drowned out even the thunder overhead; the mountains for miles around rang endlessly with the sound. The shock wave forced us back from the edge, Dart shielding his eyes from the explosion as he stumbled backwards towards the madly swaying trees. When the light following the explosion had dimmed and the gusts of hot air from the shock waves had ceased, Dart leapt back into the air to survey the damage.
There wasn't a whole lot to look at aside from the large smoking crater in the ground where Vista had stood moments before. A few houses on the very outskirts of the village had survived the worst of it and were still standing, although the roof of one was slowly caving in and the other two surviving homes were in flames. Smoke was curling slowly into the air, only to be dampened down again by the falling rain. Descending with slow wing beats to the blasted earth, Dart landed carefully on the lip of the crater. /I guess that's it/ He said bleakly.
As we watched, a few people stumbled out of the burning houses, coughing and reeling from the inhaled smoke. Another family crawled out of the third house, watching the bulging roof and walls fearfully. I felt a surge of annoyance. What if Ayrel had been in one of those buildings?
With a sigh, Dart let the armor dissolve and turned to go. And stopped short with a jerk.
"Well, Dart, I'm surprised. Aren't you going to kill them too?" Ayrel asked, her mouth twisting slightly as she spoke. "Or are you just going to let them suffer a little while longer?"
Dart's hand brushed his sword hilt. "Ayrel. I'm surprised that you aren't running. You do so seem to enjoy doing that."
The Moon Child laughed and mimicked him, caressing the basket hilt of the saber hanging at her waist. She stood more than six paces away from us, but her silver eyes couldn't have been more threatening if we had stood nose to nose. "Oh no Dart. There will be no more running for me, or my family. Not now, not ever." She drew the saber from its sheath and stepped into a wide stance in one smooth movement, the narrow blade of the weapon held on a slight angle in front of her. "No. You will be the one to run."
There was the rasp drawn steel and Dart lunged forward, his sword flickering in front of him like the tongue of a serpent. The movement was delivered in the blink of an eye, yet Ayrel managed to turn the heavier blade aside, allowing it to slide down the length of her own until they stood eye to eye with their hilts locked. The remained like that for a moment, silver eyes glaring into cold blue, before whirling away and lunging at one another again.
By all rights, Dart should have had the upper hand in the encounter, and at first it appeared that he did. With the sword moving so fast in his hands that it appeared to be a blur he flashed from one attack to the next, the skills of nearly a thousand years experience shown clearly with every strike. And yet Ayrel managed to block or dodge each one as it came, her face a mask of concentration as she fought.
//What are you doing, Dart?// I snapped. //Quit fooling around and finish her off!//
/I'm trying/ Dart grunted. /But it's like she's reading my moves, or something. She-rrhh!/
Ayrel stepped back, grinning through gasping breaths. Her saber was stained red where she had managed to slash Dart's side; she ran a finger along the flat of the blade and drew it back, making a show of examining the blood smeared over it. "So you do bleed. Amazing. And here I thought that the Black Monster was supposed to be some sort of invincible demon." Licking the blood from her finger, she smiled predatorily. "I suppose that even demons will bleed." And lifting her saber again she took up a stance that I knew far to well, feet spread and her narrow saber held to her shoulder. "I think I got just about everything I needed out of that little rout. Now let's see how much you enjoy being the one on the receiving end of my blade." She lunged forward, narrow blade flickering in front of her like the tongue of a serpent.
Now it was Dart who was hard pressed to keep her blade from him. Sweat and rain pouring down his face as his sword became a whirlwind before him, trying to overwhelm the wingly and gain the upper hand again, but it seemed fruitless. Ayrel managed to stay one step ahead of him, her thinner, lighter blade giving her the advantage of speed. Dart cursed as he was forced to throw himself sideways to avoid one particularly nasty slash. Countering hurriedly, he managed to score a light gash across her shoulder. /She's using my own moves against me/ He growled, following up on the counter with a series of quick slashes designed to cut the legs out from underneath the opponent. All of which were blocked. /It sounds impossible, but it's as though she learned them just by seeing me use them!/
A faint memory tugged at the back of my mind. //It may not be as impossible as it sounds. That was an old gift among winglies some thirteen thousand years ago, but I had thought it faded out. It was rare, even then though//
/Yeah, well she seems to be everything that was supposed to have faded out from the wingly race/ Turning aside a thrust to the chest, Dart twisted to avoid a kick to his stomach. Blocking three more strikes, he ended with his weight on his back leg. Driving forward the same moment Ayrel thrust, he slashed downward as he shot past, shearing the blade of the saber off close to the hilt. I felt a surge of triumph as he pivoted, and passed his blade from the right hand to the left, preparing to drive his blade into her body right up to the hilt. And yet out of the corner of his eye I saw a blur of movement as Ayrel spun to face him-
-And pain exploded in my mind and spirit, nearly shocking me senseless. Dart reeled away howling as his blade fell from his nerveless grasp, blood pouring from his left shoulder. Stumbling to his knees as the shock of pain cleared from my mind, he clasped his right hand tightly to his wounded shoulder, then let go reflexively as a spasm of pain shot through his body. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of burnt flesh and blood, mingled with the smoke still rising off of the burning homes.
Ayrel stood back, passing the dragon buster from one hand to the other. "You felt that one, didn't you? Mother was right; having that dragon inside you seems to have amplified the effect of the blade's magic." She looked fondly at the flickering weapon in her hand. "It really is quite beautiful, you know? Oh put that down; do you really expect it to do you any good now?" She asked amusedly as Dart, gritting his teeth, reached out and grabbed the hilt of his sword. Ignoring her, he slipped it back into its sheath.
//Dart, transform and get out of here. If we stay, we're done for//
With a groan Dart lurched to his feet, cradling his useless arm against his side. Breathing haggardly, he glared at Ayrel as I felt him reach for his link to my spirit.
Ayrel didn't seem to notice. "You put up a good fight. I have to thank you; I've never seen a fighting style like yours before. Don't worry, I'll put it to good use." Raising the weapon, she readied herself for the killing blow. "Good-bye, Dart."
I felt a huge surge run through the spirit as it activated in a flash of blinding light. The transformation was so swift that we were in the air and blasting towards the clouds before the light had subsided completely. Good- bye indeed. To Ayrel, it probably seemed that we had disappeared into thin air.
Streaking along just above the clouds, Dart gradually slowed his pace. /We need to get back to the horse/ He told me. /I saw a potion in the saddlebag earlier/ His thoughts sounded slightly strained. From the pain in his arm, I surmised.
//All right. Let me take over; I can find it faster than you can// Taking control, I tried to keep my mind separate from the pain in his shoulder. It wasn't easy, but I managed to keep it down to a dull pain just outside of my senses. Dropping below the clouds again, I took my bearings and started in the direction of a large lake that I remembered having seen on the way up. //We'll get you patched up, then head for Kazas on horseback//
Ayrel's POV:
I took one last look at the bloodstained patch on the ground before turning away. Stupid of me; I should have realized that he'd take the opportunity to transform, wounded or no. Thumbing off the Dragon Buster, I headed back to the edge of the trees where Mother and Father were waiting. "You see, I told you that he'd show." I called as I drew closer.
Father shook his head, apparently caught in between concern for me and frustration at Dart's escape. "But he escaped. You shouldn't have wasted time talking like that, Ayrel. Dead men need no explanations."
I shrugged and slipped the hilt of the Dragon Buster back inside the folds of my coat. "I know that now. Next time, I won't wait."
"He'll be ready for you next time," Mother said as she slipped out of the shadows next to Father. "He seldom makes the same mistake twice." A note of worry crept into her voice as she spoke, and she smoothed her black silk skirt nervously. "You would be best to take him now, while he is injured. He can't have gone far."
I shook my head. "He'll be back again, don't worry. I'll get him then." This was the partial truth; really, what fun was there in hunting injured game? He was running now, but he'd be back sooner or later anyway. It would be more fun to pull him down then, after he'd had some time to prepare. "In the meantime, let's go to Bale. The more we spread word about what happened here, the more difficult it will be for him to move about undetected."
Father nodded his head thoughtfully, but Mother motioned to the small group of people huddling fearfully near the burning houses. "And what will you do about them? They need aid."
I sighed and started towards them. "I guess we could drop them off in Lohan or something. Father, will you go ahead to Bale and inform the High Priest that I'll be arriving shortly? He's a dear old man, but he almost had a heart attack when we just showed up in his hall without warning."
Father nodded and disappeared in a flash of green light. Mother walked sedately beside me, whatever had been troubling her apparently gone. Nothing ever seemed to faze her for long. I spared one last glance at the crater before turning my attention to the survivors. So he wanted me dead that badly, huh? I smiled inwardly. This game could turn out even more excited than I had expected.
Shade: **blinks** Ayrel scares me. She scares me very much. I think I'm going to go Ayrel-hunting with me mallet.
Whoa. Rapid fire updates. Well, what with all of my friends seemingly disappearing up to New Brunswick for camps, there's not much else to do around here save playstation (Ursula bad! Shade smash!) and writing. And drawing, I suppose, but I'm in a creative rut at the moment. So, yea! Look at me type! **tappitytappitytappitytap**
Zion's POV:
The night faded into the gray pre-dawn, the bellies of the clouds on the horizon tainted rose-orange with the impending sunrise. Not that the sun would show its face, of course. Overnight, clouds had rolled in from the ocean to the west to cover the sky as far as the eye could see. The sky hung heavy with the woolly things; they rode sullenly on the gusting winds that swept the forest below, setting the branches and leaves of the trees to shaking and swaying. The wind carried the scent of rain and lightening, a grim forerunner for the storm that was to come.
Sitting atop my tired mount, I did my best to ignore the wind. Storms like the one impending were uncommon in the middle of summer, but not unheard of. Pulling up the hood of my cloak, it was immediately blown off of my head and hung uselessly down my back. I didn't bother to replace it; I had found the cloak stored in the saddlebags of the animal the night before and had put it on to ward off the sudden chill that seemed to seep into the forest around one or two in the morning. It was an ill fit, but then again most garments that aren't my own are. When you stand some three or four inches over six feet, you just have to put up with that sort of thing.
My horse shifted nervously as the wind buffeted its side, and I placed a hand on its neck to quiet it. We stood on a hilltop near the edge of the forest, although the rocky surface of this caused it to be devoid of all but the most scraggily of trees. About a mile of narrow road was visible from here, winding slowly back through the forest. It was this that I watched now, straining my eyes to see through the waving tree branches. Aside from the odd animal and the waving leaves on the trees, nothing moved. Turning my animal around, I started down the far side of the hill at a lumbering walk. If that man had decided to follow me through the woods, I would have seen him by now for sure. Maybe he hadn't been after my gold last night after all.
But then why had he been following me last night? He hadn't been with Cyclos, of that much I was sure. Ry. That had been his name. At least, that had been the name that he had given. Too many people coming out of Lohan these days gave false aliases. I shook my head and pushed the horse into a jolting trot. Whatever his motive had been, he was gone now.
I rode for another six hours or so, alternating between a ground eating trot and an ambling walk that allowed both the horse and myself a bit of a rest. I hadn't slept in twenty four hours or more, and after all of yesterdays fighting I felt as though I had been bundled up in a sack and rolled down a rocky hill a couple of times. The wounds had healed, of course, but potions don't do anything to replace lost energy. When I finally rode out of the forest and onto the fields of tilled earth that surround the city Kazas it was becoming an effort not to sway in the saddle. The clouds could hold their burden no longer and it began to rain; only a light mist at first, but before I had come halfway across the fields it had become a steady downpour. I may as well have not been wearing the cloak, as the cloth was soaked through within moments. Grumbling halfheartedly about poorly oiled cloth, I rode slouched in the saddle as we ambled past a large pond; a hissing sound filled the air as the rain from the storm pelted the dimpled surface. The road, which had been hard packed dirt and stone when I had left the city a week before, was quickly turning to mud under my horse's feet. Thunder rumbled sullenly in the distance, and the sky flickered momentarily as lightning danced above the slate-colored clouds.
All in all, it was a rather depressing reception for the home coming champion.
Not that anyone would see me that way. The city walls loomed up ahead of me; turning to the right I rode parallel to them until I came to the gates. Massive, twenty foot tall pieces of solid ironwork, the gates of Kazas are an imposing sight even when they are opened in welcome. Two sets of guards stood on either side of the gate; on one side, men girded in the chain mail coats of the city guard, on the other side stood four dread knights. The city guardsmen watched the dread knights warily, but for the most part the knights largely ignored them. As I approached, their attention was riveted on me. More than one of them reached for his sword as I passed, but at a stern order from their captain their hands snapped away as soon as their fingers brushed the hilt. Instead they eyed me grimly as I rode by; their dark glares shouting their hate louder than words ever could. The offense of attacking a priest was not easily forgotten.
I didn't realize that I had been holding my breath until I was among the buildings fifty feet from the gate. Cursing, I jerked the right rein, steering the horse irritably down a narrow road between two merchants houses. "Idiot. If they were going to kill you, they would have done it years ago in a public execution." Taking several more turns I made my way deeper into the city, the buildings around me getting steadily shabbier as I went. The buildings here were no smaller than those just inside the city gates, but they had a definite air of shabbiness bout them. Windows were covered with oiled paper rather than paned glass; here and there large chunks of plaster siding had crumbled away to reveal rotting wooden beams underneath. Halting finally, I dismounted in front of a rundown stable. A dirty, barefooted stable boy with jug ears came running out to take the reins of my animal, looking disappointed when I didn't give him a coin, but relieved that I didn't kick him instead. Before I could hurry off another, older boy came out, this time holding out a small iron chest. Digging into my pocket I found a couple of coins and dropped then through the narrow slot at the top of the box. The lad bowed his head slightly, then led me into the stable.
Three or four animals were tethered in stalls inside, looking well kept in spite of the living conditions. The air was filled with a musty smell from the old straw that had been scattered over the hard earth floor in attempt to ward off some of the damp. The jug eared boy appeared out of the farthest stall where I assumed my animal was to be kept, loaded down with heavy leather tack. Maybe I should have left him a tip after all. But before I could pursue the thought my guide opened a small door at the back of the stable and hustled me out into the soggy courtyard beyond. He didn't follow: the moment I had stepped out from under the roof the door slammed shut behind me.
There was a tavern on the far side of the courtyard, its dingy windows glowing invitingly, but I passed by it and slipped into the alley along the side of the building that would take me out onto the street. My sword made it a difficult fit; I had to turn sideways and sidle through the gap until I emerged out onto the street on the other side. Hurrying across the road with my sopping cloak flapping in the wind, I ducked into the doorframe of a low slate roofed house and rapped hard on the door. There was a shout from somewhere inside, followed by the sound of footsteps. The latch rattled and then the door opened a crack.
"Zion Damnen." A gruff female voice barked.
"I'm baa-ck." I put on as best a grin as I could manage. "Would you mind letting me in?"
"You up and left last week without telling a soul. Give me one good reason why I should."
"Because if you don't I'm going to sit under Tabby's window and howl like a wolf all night long."
The door opened grudgingly, and I stepped inside. Shedding my cloak, I wrung it out over the doorstep before dropping it into a pile on the floor. Shaking her head, the woman who had spoken waddled over and picked it up, hanging it on a nail next to the door. More than just plump, Remmy was a short woman with a round face and little, birdlike brown eyes. Plucking at the bun nestled at the nape of her neck with one hand, she pounded me heartily on the back in spite of her initial greeting. "It's nice to see you back, Zion. I was starting to wonder if you hadn't left for good this time."
"Why would I? All my stuff's here anyway. Oh, speaking of which-" I pulled a small leather purse from the satchel hanging from my belt and tossed it to her-"There's payment for last month's board."
Snagging it out of the air, the purse disappeared into the folds of her woolen dress. "Thank you." She froze suddenly, as though seeing me for the first time. With an inward groan I started to retreat down the hallway, but before I had gone two steps she had seized me by the arm and spun me back around to face her. She fingered my shirt, not missing the bloodstained rents in the arms and chest. "You've been fighting again," She said accusingly.
"Well-"
"I thought that you said that you'd given up on prize fighting!"
"I didn't get these prize fighting! These came after, while I was coming back-"
"After?" Her voice was sharp. She glared at me, suddenly looking much, much taller than I knew she really was. After what seemed an interminable silence, she released her grip on my arm and pushed me into the kitchen. Pointing to a stool, she bustled over to where a kettle was heating in the coals on the hearth. "Sit. And take off that shirt; I want to take a look at those wounds."
I shook my head, not bothering to tell her that I'd already been treated. But I obeyed anyway, setting my sword in a corner and tossing my ruined shirt on top of it. Setting a plate of porridge on the table in front of me, Remmy forced me into a chair and started to examine the thin scars crisscrossing my arms and back while I dug in. Answering her questions and relating what had happened in between bites, I forgot to mention to her for once that I really didn't like raisin porridge. Soon I was swaying back and forth in my seat; now that I was starting to dry and I had food in my stomach, all of the exhaustion of the past two days rushed to catch up with me.
Finally Remmy stood back from her inspection, apparently satisfied. "Well, you're luck. It seems that that Ry fellow had an idea of what he was supposed to be doing. Those scars will probably be gone in a month or two, if you're lucky. Tabby, what are you doing?"
I turned on my stool in time to see the little girl toddle into the kitchen, trailing a battered looking rag doll on the floor behind her. With her dark curly hair and pink little cheeks, Remmy's daughter looked a great deal like a doll herself. Without replying to her mother, she came to my side and poked me lightly in the ribs with one pink little finger. "Zion late."
Sticking my tongue out at her, I poked her lightly in the nose. "Yeah, Zion late." I pushed my bowl away and got to my feet. "Well, I'm going to bed. Throw something at me if you need anyone beat up, okay?"
My room was in the basement of the house, a dirt cellar that had apparently been a part of a fort when the city was young. There was little left to show for it aside from a few rotting beams protruding from the floor, but it wouldn't surprise me if it were true. Climbing down the wooden ladder, I sighed as I landed. There's always a certain satisfaction that comes with returning home for me, poor as it may be. A rickety table occupied the center of the room, a map and a dice cup resting atop it. A pile of clean clothes lay at the foot of my cot, shoved in the far corner of the little room. Drawing my sword from its sheath, I hung the sheath on its hook on the wall and set the blade on the table. Pulling an oily rag and a whetstone out of my bag, I set them next to the blade; the heavy canvas sack joined a pile of other assorted objects in another corner. I'd have to polish and whet the nicks out of my blade later, when I could see straight.
Kicking off my boots, I flopped down onto my cot and closed my eyes. At least Remmy had had the sense not to try to tidy my room while I was out. She was a good person, but she enjoyed mothering me too much. Under other circumstances I might have left the town entirely, were it not for Remmy and her daughter. She and her husband had taken me in after my run in with the cult, when no one else would. Even after my face had healed, she had allowed me to stay as a boarder. So when her husband died, leaving her alone with three month old Tabby, the least that I could do to repay her was to stay around and help her by bringing in money. I admit that was difficult; it's tough to earn money in a city where no one will hire you. And so quite by accident, I found myself entering competitions across Serdio as a prizefighter. Remmy wasn't very impressed by this, but I did my best to ignore her on matters like this. The last thing that I needed was another mother.
The thunder was over the city now, loud even in the cellar. Feeling the earth tremble as one particularly large crash shook the house above, I grabbed a blanket and pulled it over my head. Damn, I was tired. Now if only I could get to sleep.
Ragnarok's POV:
Dart pulled his mount up short and dismounted. /I don't think there's any sense in riding past here. The roads leading up towards the shrine are usually watched in any case/ Leading the animal back off the road into a clearing, he drove a peg into the ground and attached a tether to the horse's bridle. Fastening it tightly to the peg, he loosened the saddle girth before returning to the road. /Should we fly in or go on foot?/
//Vista will probably be right up on the mountain's peak// I replied slowly, working the strategy over in my mind. //Or close to it. Its probably sitting in low clouds at the moment, or very close to it. If you were to conceal yourself in the clouds and land further up the peak than the village, you could come at it on foot from above without being noticed until its too late//
Dart glanced up at the heavy grey clouds overhead. /I'm going to get soaked flying through that, you realize/
//We all have to make sacrifices// I reminded him philosophically.
Philosophical or not, it did little to quiet his mutterings when we broke through the top of the clouds several minutes later. Fanning his wings in attempt to shake off some of the moisture dripping off the spines of the long pinions, he made a noise of disgust as most of it settled into his hair. /Ark, I hate you, you know that?/ He glanced down at the cannon fixed to his left arm, not missing the water running in a little stream off of the forked end. /I look like the waterspout from hell/
Above the clouds the sun was just beginning to rise, turning the sky and the tops of the clouds a faint blushing pink-orange. Other thinner clouds drifted on currents in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, spread far and few between. It was an odd sight; thick clouds below and thin clouds above with nothing in between aside from a dragoon and hundreds of feet of air. Thunder rumbled ominously from the clouds underneath, and the thin air seemed almost to vibrate in the wake of the sound. //We had better get moving, Dart//
/Where about do you think the peak is?/ Dart asked, turning a slow circle.
//I'll know when I see it. Here, let me try// Brushing his mind aside, I took control and started to fly slowly in the direction of the rising sun, watching the clouds below us carefully. Thousands of years of experience living in the mountainous reaches of the continent had taught me to read the minute signs on the surface of the clouds to tell me what was beneath. The wind flows differently in accordance to the landmasses below, and it shows through the swirls in the cloud's surface. As I angled slightly higher to get a better look, a patch of erratically swirling cloud caught my attention. //There we go// Flipping over, I stooped into a shallow dive that brought us angling slowly through the cloud cover.
For the next few minutes we flew in silence. Travelling through cloud and emerging through the bottom without anyone from the village seeing us was going to require a substantial amount of luck even with my skill, and I wanted to leave as little to luck as possible.
Luck or skill, whichever the reason, we managed to make our landing on the eastern side of the summit three or four miles from the village outskirts. Swapping places with Dart again, I kept a watch as he made his way through the overgrown forest. It was raining lightly now, but only a few droplets made their way down through the canopy. Jumping into a partially dried up streambed Dart jogged along, his feet slipping every so often on the wet stones. /I can probably make it there in about an hour and a half. Maybe less if the forest isn't so overgrown further on/ Ducking under a branch, he continued on. /How do you want to do this?/
If I had my way, we would level the village with one shot before we got close enough for the winglies to notice. I had suggested as such before with other children, and both times Dart had rejected it almost as soon as he heard the words. This time however, he met the suggestion with silence. Not the stony silence that he usually met these ideas with, but considering. It was a measure of how serious matters had become in his mind that he was even thinking about it now. He was willing to kill Ayrel, and Asalla and Mathis too, if it came down to it, but an entire village? I waited expectantly while he sorted through the welter of confused emotions running through his mind.
/If we try to slip into the village and take her by stealth, Asalla will probably sense us before we get too close, won't she?/ He said slowly, the words sounding forced.
//Probably//
/And we'll have to track her down all over again/ He pushed a clump of wet hair back out of his face irritably. /But if we take out the whole village, then a lot of innocent people are going to die/
//Yes. And Ayrel with them. Which will probably save countless more lives in the long run//
Dart snarled aloud and threw a vicious kick at a rotten tree stump next to the stream bank, but I knew he had made his decision. Continuing along the streambed he said nothing, his mood growing so dark that if it became any more pronounced I could probably have cut it with a knife. The light rain intensified into a steady downpour, and thunder began to roll in the skies overhead as we made our way down the side of the mountain. Slipping and sliding down one slope covered with moss and old leaves, Dart stumbled out onto a rocky plateau that was maybe thirty feet wide and twice that across. A hundred feet below, in a shallow valley carved out between two of the mountain's peaks, was a cluster of small buildings surrounded by rings of what looked like tree stumps. Dart took one quick look before pulling back from the edge to the trees. /That must be Vista, then/ He said, voice heavy.
//Now Dart. Before anyone decides to get smart on us//
My partner said nothing, but I felt him reaching for his connection with the spirit lodged in his chest. A moment later it flared into life; reaching for my own link to the stone I did my best to moderate the glow that usually accompanied the appearance of the armor. It took a bit longer, with the armor shimmering and consolidating in pieces, but it cut down on the chances that anyone in the village below would notice anything strange. Cocking the cannon almost as soon as the transformation was completed, he began drawing energy into it and stepped up to the edge of the plateau. Taking careful aim, the cannon whined as the built up energy reached its maximum. /Let's get this over with, then/ Jerking his head away at the last instant, he fired.
The concussion from the blast drowned out even the thunder overhead; the mountains for miles around rang endlessly with the sound. The shock wave forced us back from the edge, Dart shielding his eyes from the explosion as he stumbled backwards towards the madly swaying trees. When the light following the explosion had dimmed and the gusts of hot air from the shock waves had ceased, Dart leapt back into the air to survey the damage.
There wasn't a whole lot to look at aside from the large smoking crater in the ground where Vista had stood moments before. A few houses on the very outskirts of the village had survived the worst of it and were still standing, although the roof of one was slowly caving in and the other two surviving homes were in flames. Smoke was curling slowly into the air, only to be dampened down again by the falling rain. Descending with slow wing beats to the blasted earth, Dart landed carefully on the lip of the crater. /I guess that's it/ He said bleakly.
As we watched, a few people stumbled out of the burning houses, coughing and reeling from the inhaled smoke. Another family crawled out of the third house, watching the bulging roof and walls fearfully. I felt a surge of annoyance. What if Ayrel had been in one of those buildings?
With a sigh, Dart let the armor dissolve and turned to go. And stopped short with a jerk.
"Well, Dart, I'm surprised. Aren't you going to kill them too?" Ayrel asked, her mouth twisting slightly as she spoke. "Or are you just going to let them suffer a little while longer?"
Dart's hand brushed his sword hilt. "Ayrel. I'm surprised that you aren't running. You do so seem to enjoy doing that."
The Moon Child laughed and mimicked him, caressing the basket hilt of the saber hanging at her waist. She stood more than six paces away from us, but her silver eyes couldn't have been more threatening if we had stood nose to nose. "Oh no Dart. There will be no more running for me, or my family. Not now, not ever." She drew the saber from its sheath and stepped into a wide stance in one smooth movement, the narrow blade of the weapon held on a slight angle in front of her. "No. You will be the one to run."
There was the rasp drawn steel and Dart lunged forward, his sword flickering in front of him like the tongue of a serpent. The movement was delivered in the blink of an eye, yet Ayrel managed to turn the heavier blade aside, allowing it to slide down the length of her own until they stood eye to eye with their hilts locked. The remained like that for a moment, silver eyes glaring into cold blue, before whirling away and lunging at one another again.
By all rights, Dart should have had the upper hand in the encounter, and at first it appeared that he did. With the sword moving so fast in his hands that it appeared to be a blur he flashed from one attack to the next, the skills of nearly a thousand years experience shown clearly with every strike. And yet Ayrel managed to block or dodge each one as it came, her face a mask of concentration as she fought.
//What are you doing, Dart?// I snapped. //Quit fooling around and finish her off!//
/I'm trying/ Dart grunted. /But it's like she's reading my moves, or something. She-rrhh!/
Ayrel stepped back, grinning through gasping breaths. Her saber was stained red where she had managed to slash Dart's side; she ran a finger along the flat of the blade and drew it back, making a show of examining the blood smeared over it. "So you do bleed. Amazing. And here I thought that the Black Monster was supposed to be some sort of invincible demon." Licking the blood from her finger, she smiled predatorily. "I suppose that even demons will bleed." And lifting her saber again she took up a stance that I knew far to well, feet spread and her narrow saber held to her shoulder. "I think I got just about everything I needed out of that little rout. Now let's see how much you enjoy being the one on the receiving end of my blade." She lunged forward, narrow blade flickering in front of her like the tongue of a serpent.
Now it was Dart who was hard pressed to keep her blade from him. Sweat and rain pouring down his face as his sword became a whirlwind before him, trying to overwhelm the wingly and gain the upper hand again, but it seemed fruitless. Ayrel managed to stay one step ahead of him, her thinner, lighter blade giving her the advantage of speed. Dart cursed as he was forced to throw himself sideways to avoid one particularly nasty slash. Countering hurriedly, he managed to score a light gash across her shoulder. /She's using my own moves against me/ He growled, following up on the counter with a series of quick slashes designed to cut the legs out from underneath the opponent. All of which were blocked. /It sounds impossible, but it's as though she learned them just by seeing me use them!/
A faint memory tugged at the back of my mind. //It may not be as impossible as it sounds. That was an old gift among winglies some thirteen thousand years ago, but I had thought it faded out. It was rare, even then though//
/Yeah, well she seems to be everything that was supposed to have faded out from the wingly race/ Turning aside a thrust to the chest, Dart twisted to avoid a kick to his stomach. Blocking three more strikes, he ended with his weight on his back leg. Driving forward the same moment Ayrel thrust, he slashed downward as he shot past, shearing the blade of the saber off close to the hilt. I felt a surge of triumph as he pivoted, and passed his blade from the right hand to the left, preparing to drive his blade into her body right up to the hilt. And yet out of the corner of his eye I saw a blur of movement as Ayrel spun to face him-
-And pain exploded in my mind and spirit, nearly shocking me senseless. Dart reeled away howling as his blade fell from his nerveless grasp, blood pouring from his left shoulder. Stumbling to his knees as the shock of pain cleared from my mind, he clasped his right hand tightly to his wounded shoulder, then let go reflexively as a spasm of pain shot through his body. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of burnt flesh and blood, mingled with the smoke still rising off of the burning homes.
Ayrel stood back, passing the dragon buster from one hand to the other. "You felt that one, didn't you? Mother was right; having that dragon inside you seems to have amplified the effect of the blade's magic." She looked fondly at the flickering weapon in her hand. "It really is quite beautiful, you know? Oh put that down; do you really expect it to do you any good now?" She asked amusedly as Dart, gritting his teeth, reached out and grabbed the hilt of his sword. Ignoring her, he slipped it back into its sheath.
//Dart, transform and get out of here. If we stay, we're done for//
With a groan Dart lurched to his feet, cradling his useless arm against his side. Breathing haggardly, he glared at Ayrel as I felt him reach for his link to my spirit.
Ayrel didn't seem to notice. "You put up a good fight. I have to thank you; I've never seen a fighting style like yours before. Don't worry, I'll put it to good use." Raising the weapon, she readied herself for the killing blow. "Good-bye, Dart."
I felt a huge surge run through the spirit as it activated in a flash of blinding light. The transformation was so swift that we were in the air and blasting towards the clouds before the light had subsided completely. Good- bye indeed. To Ayrel, it probably seemed that we had disappeared into thin air.
Streaking along just above the clouds, Dart gradually slowed his pace. /We need to get back to the horse/ He told me. /I saw a potion in the saddlebag earlier/ His thoughts sounded slightly strained. From the pain in his arm, I surmised.
//All right. Let me take over; I can find it faster than you can// Taking control, I tried to keep my mind separate from the pain in his shoulder. It wasn't easy, but I managed to keep it down to a dull pain just outside of my senses. Dropping below the clouds again, I took my bearings and started in the direction of a large lake that I remembered having seen on the way up. //We'll get you patched up, then head for Kazas on horseback//
Ayrel's POV:
I took one last look at the bloodstained patch on the ground before turning away. Stupid of me; I should have realized that he'd take the opportunity to transform, wounded or no. Thumbing off the Dragon Buster, I headed back to the edge of the trees where Mother and Father were waiting. "You see, I told you that he'd show." I called as I drew closer.
Father shook his head, apparently caught in between concern for me and frustration at Dart's escape. "But he escaped. You shouldn't have wasted time talking like that, Ayrel. Dead men need no explanations."
I shrugged and slipped the hilt of the Dragon Buster back inside the folds of my coat. "I know that now. Next time, I won't wait."
"He'll be ready for you next time," Mother said as she slipped out of the shadows next to Father. "He seldom makes the same mistake twice." A note of worry crept into her voice as she spoke, and she smoothed her black silk skirt nervously. "You would be best to take him now, while he is injured. He can't have gone far."
I shook my head. "He'll be back again, don't worry. I'll get him then." This was the partial truth; really, what fun was there in hunting injured game? He was running now, but he'd be back sooner or later anyway. It would be more fun to pull him down then, after he'd had some time to prepare. "In the meantime, let's go to Bale. The more we spread word about what happened here, the more difficult it will be for him to move about undetected."
Father nodded his head thoughtfully, but Mother motioned to the small group of people huddling fearfully near the burning houses. "And what will you do about them? They need aid."
I sighed and started towards them. "I guess we could drop them off in Lohan or something. Father, will you go ahead to Bale and inform the High Priest that I'll be arriving shortly? He's a dear old man, but he almost had a heart attack when we just showed up in his hall without warning."
Father nodded and disappeared in a flash of green light. Mother walked sedately beside me, whatever had been troubling her apparently gone. Nothing ever seemed to faze her for long. I spared one last glance at the crater before turning my attention to the survivors. So he wanted me dead that badly, huh? I smiled inwardly. This game could turn out even more excited than I had expected.
Shade: **blinks** Ayrel scares me. She scares me very much. I think I'm going to go Ayrel-hunting with me mallet.