All right, back to the Q&A period that I seem to be inserting quite
regularly now. ^.- Fun fun.
~ New dragoons merging with the spirits? I hadn't really planned on it. Ragnarok's enough for me. :)
~ What was the spell Zion used? I love it, but I haven't thought up a name for it yet. I decided that each of the dragoons are going to have different spells from those in the game, on the basis that I like the idea of them being sort of personalized. And I don't need anyone reminding me that yes, Zieg did use flame shot. I thought of that. And quite frankly, I decided to ignore it just as quickly. ^-^
DAMN RIGHT, SAFETY IS OVERRATED!!! :D
(The little - things indicate a pause or someone being cut off or trailing off before they can finish the sentence, for anyone who was confused. Sorry about that.)
Ragnarok's POV:
Closing the rough wooden gates, Dart wedged a chunk of stone under the bottom and kicked it firmly into place. Zion hovered about in the background; deathly pale and swaying slightly on his feet while Dart repeated the process with the second half of the gate. "Are you sure that those will hold?"
Giving the gate one last kick for good measure, Dart gave his work a cursory inspection. "Probably not," he admitted, "But it should give us a bit more time." Returning to Zion, he ducked under the taller man's arm to lend some support. "Come on. If you can make it to the forest, we'll be more or less safe."
//Are you sure that he'll even make it that far? He's dead on his feet//
/He just needs some rest. He's handling it much better than I did/
//Physically, at least// I said as they started to make their way slowly out into the plains surrounding Kazas. //Mentally, he'll probably need some help. What are you going to tell him? You really aren't all that great at coming up with explanations, you know//
/Then I'll just have to tell him the truth/
//The truth?// I replied skeptically. //I can just see that now: "Hey kid, my name's Dart Feld. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be a thousand years dead and all, but some dragon's decided to live in my body and I got this choker that grants agelessness and all-//
/Well, maybe not the whole truth, then/ Dart cut in.
//A rather vague explanation should be suitable, Dart. This whole thing's so tangled up that even a sketchy description of what's going on should satisfy him. Besides, I don't think that he'd take too kindly to your profession at the moment. He'd probably have a heart attack if he realized that the Black Monster was standing in front of him//
/That or try to toss me into the nuthouse/ He grumbled. /But I see what you mean. We'll figure out something later on/
It was slow going across the field. At one time in the dim past rolling farmland, the shadowy landscape now consisted of a sea of waving timothy grass broken up by low hills and skeletal copses of alder trees, the sparse leaves silver in the moonlight. Overhead the a few thin clouds drifted about, but Moon continued to shine brightly even when one drifted across its scarred surface. As a result the land was bathed in a pale, blue- white light that was under the circumstances completely unwelcome. The dense forest that surrounded the city bordered the edge of the fields, almost a full two miles away. Not a great distance to walk on one's own, certainly, but Zion would be a handicap. In his state it was difficult to keep him from going face first into the ground whenever he stumbled and because of his height and weight it was difficult for Dart not to be dragged down after him.
We had made it perhaps a quarter mile out into the fields when the Western Gate swung outward at last, loosing a flood of torch-bearing cultists out onto the waving grasses. They wouldn't be too much of a problem; the light shining in their eyes would hide us well enough as long as we kept our distance. The only real danger were the two or three who were mounted; loping back and forth between the forest and the city, more than once we were forced to duck into a copse or the deep grasses to avoid being seen. Between hiding and Zion's handicap, it was close to two hours before we finally reached the tree line.
Under the canopy the forest was dark and cool. An owl, startled by our sudden appearance took flight from a rotten tree stump with a mouse dangling limply from its hooked beak. It passed across our path before ghosting off deeper into the woods on silent wings. In the wake of last night's storm broken limbs of every size littered the ground. The scent of dampened loam and moss hung heavy on the air, mingling with the heavy musk from a passing fox. Splashing through a stream that gurgled out from under the roots of a gnarled old oak tree, Dart finally let Zion slide to the ground on the other side. "I think that we should be safe here," he muttered, peering about nearsightedly in the darkness. Very little moonlight filtered through to reach the forest floor here, and as a result it was as dark as the inside of a kettle. "I'd prefer to go a little further, but if we can't see in here then they sure as hell can't."
Zion grunted and crawled over to the roots of the oak, near the source of the spring. "I suppose a fire's out of the question, then." He muttered, shrugging out of the shoulder belt that held his sheath across his back.
"If there was dry wood, maybe. Just try and get some sleep for now."
He sat up quickly, back scraping against the rough oak bark. "Hey! Wha-"
"You'll get your explanations in the morning," Dart cut in wearily. "Trust me, it's not the sort of thing that you want to have dumped on you when you're semi-coherent."
Zion grumbled about this for a bit, but soon his muttering ceased and his breathing steadied and deepened. Groping about into the darkness until he found a fat tree stump, Dart settled down with his back against it. /Well, I guess that's it for now/
//Do you need any sleep? I can keep watch if we switch// I offered.
/Thanks for thinking of it, but I think I'll stay awake a while longer anyhow/ Imitating Zion, he removed his belt and sheath and lay it across his knees with his good hand resting on the hilt. /I don't really expect that the search parties will be coming all of the way into the forest/
I disagreed. //You never know. They won't give up easily, not now that they know that he has one of the dragoon spirits. The cult already has two, and it's been a big enough pain retrieving those we have now//
/I guess that's true/ He admitted. /I wonder if they'll try sending either of theirs after us?/
//If they even have bearers for them. Finding someone who is compatible with a spirit isn't always the easiest task. And if the world is really in crisis, then the spirits are only going to be reacting to very specific people//
/This isn't going to make it much easier for us, then/
//"When dragoons meet, blood will flow, and as they leave, time does slow"// I quoted cryptically. //I don't think that we have to worry. If Zion isn't just a fluke, then sooner or later the prospective bearers will find us whether they want it or not//
/I guess so/ Dart scratched his ear and shivered. /You know, I think I will take you up on your offer after all. I don't think I'll ever manage to get the trick of ignoring temperatures like you do/
//Its easier when it isn't your own body// Taking his place as his mind eased out of contact, the sensations of the forest came flooding back. There was a bit of a chill, probably due to the fact that the damp moss was slowly soaking through his clothes. Putting it out of my mind, I closed my eyes and concentrated instead on the sounds of the forest around me, animals alternately waking up to hunt or settling down for the night. And of course, the ever persistent buzz of mosquitoes. Temperatures don't usually bother me. I'm even fairly indifferent to the weather. Bloodsuckers, however, irritate me.
Slapping my cheek idly, I wished that someone had had the sense to burn whichever fruit they had sprung from before it ever fell from the Divine Tree.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The dim minutes before sunrise plays host to one of nature's oddities. As grey dawn slowly descends upon the world in prelude to Sol's arrival, the birds of the forest will awake and burst into song. An unwritten ritual that has greeted the sun since time immemorial, the birdsong by far surpasses the rude ability of any human composer by leaps and bounds. Mourning doves, blue birds, robins, finches, and another hundred or so varieties of unnamed songbirds raise their voices as a one, piping their own individual melodies in a harmony so complex that the world's greatest court musician could spend a life time deciphering it and still never be able to imitate it.
In other words, it's a bloody awful racket.
The birds in the tree nearest to me scattered into the air twittering madly in panic. Hobbling over to where my boot had landed, I jammed it back onto my foot with a curse. After Dart had passed off the night had been uneventful. Too uneventful: with no reason to move around my attention had wandered and his body fallen asleep without me realizing it. As a result almost every bit of exposed flesh was now covered with itchy white mosquito bites, leaving me very uncomfortable and in a foul mood. As Zion was roused by my muttered curses, I noted with a sort of vindictive pleasure that he hadn't fared any better.
Stifling a cavernous yawn, the young man watched me through bleary eyes. "What's the matter with you?"
I told him- at great length.
I made no attempt to keep a rein on my language, and as a result Zion's face was slightly pale as I finished. Sighing mentally, I woke Dart with a jolt. //Enjoy yourself. He's a morning person// Without further explanation I pushed him to the forefront, retreating to my usual, insect-free vantage point in the back of his mind.
/What?/ Dart blinked once or twice, confused by the sudden switch. Then he caught sight of Zion's face. With a sigh, he started to shake his head, then stopped. /Ark, do me a favor and please keep your early morning explosions in my head, if you don't mind?/ Grinning sheepishly, he rubbed a bite on one of his knuckles. "Sorry. I'm not really one for mornings."
"I noticed," Zion responded faintly, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off of his pants.
Since there wasn't really anything edible on hand they set of immediately, keeping the glow of the rising sun at their right shoulder as they headed north. Thankfully most of the birds seemed to have become preoccupied with foraging for seeds and worms, so we were able to travel in relative peace. The land had a gradual uphill slope that grew more and more pronounced as the miles wore on. By midday we had reached the foothills bordering the mountain range that divided Serdio in to two. From here it would be nearly a weeks walk at best to the nearest of the northern towns.
Stopping for a breather at the crest of one particularly steep hill, Dart pulled off his bandana and scratched his sweaty hairline. The summer heat was back in full force, the damp chill of the past few days forgotten. The crickets droned lazily in the shade of sun warmed bushes, the low persistent buzz a constant reminder of the heat. Slouching back against the trunk of a peeling old birch tree, Dart watched as Zion came up the rocky hill from behind. /He's been quiet this morning/ He noted.
//He's probably still mulling over what happened last night//
/I guess so/ Dart slid to the ground, tucking the strip of cloth into his jacket. Zion gave Dart an odd look when he caught up, but followed his lead and slid gratefully to the ground. Closing his eyes, Dart leaned his head back against the trunk and waited.
He didn't really have to bother with the pretense. Zion shot him an annoyed glance before looking away and clearing his throat. "You said that you have my explanations. Well, lets hear them."
Dart didn't bother opening his eyes. "What exactly did you want to know about?"
"What the hell do you think?" He exploded, the dam holding back his frustration bursting at last. "What happened to me last night? One minute I'm lying out of it on the ground, and then suddenly I'm throwing fire and flying? Normal people don't do things like that, Ry."
"I thought I already told you. You're a dragoon."
"Really? Well bully for me. Mind explaining what you mean by that, exactly?"
Dart opened his eyes a crack. "You don't know anything about dragoons?" he murmured, then sat up. "Damn. That could make things a little bit more difficult."
"Just put it plainly." Zion told him bluntly.
"I wish I could." Dart scratched his chin reflectively. "It's complicated, but I'll try to keep it simple. Alright, do you know anything about The Dragon Campaign?" When Zion looked confused, Dart shook his head and sighed. "Why does the world forget everything that's important?" He asked no one in particular.
//The world doesn't forget. Just humans//
He ignored me. "Okay, close to twelve thousand years ago, the world was run by winglies and their magic. And I don't mean just being the dominant species. They ruled everything; law, other species, the skies, even death itself. Humans, minitos, even the powerful gigantos were slaves, worked like beasts to till the earth to supply their masters with food. Not exactly what could be called a harmonious relationship. Rebellions were common, but they were put down without much fuss. Until one man turned the tide.
I'm not really sure what the story is behind him, but that man came to be known as Emperor Diaz. Humans who had managed to escape the oppression flocked to him, and eventually a fort was built on the desolate snowfields west of the Kashua Glacier. The few escapees became an army, and Gloriano was born. Attacks against the winglies were mounted from Fort Miagrad, but there were many problems from the start. Firstly, many of the most influential wingly cities are stationed in the air rather than on the ground-"
"Wait, what do you mean by 'in the air'?" Zion asked, confused.
"Exactly what I said. Wingly cities were enchanted so that they hovered thousands of feet above the ground." Seeing the look on Zion's face, he added, "Winglies had many technologies that we couldn't even begin to dream of, both magical and not. Incredible devices and I've only ever seen the ruins of the most impressive. Now where was I? Oh, right. Most of the cities such as Zenebatos and Aglis were of the flying type, and the others, such as Deningrad, were too heavily armed and defended for the attacks to be very successful. With their magic, the winglies were simply too powerful. And so Diaz and a handful of his rebels went out in search of a greater power.
"In all of Endiness the only race that the winglies openly feared were the dragons, and it was in them that the humans found allies. While the dragons as a race would not become involved, the spirits of seven dragons were given to the humans. When activated, the individuals holding the spirits were imbued with their power, transforming them into dragoons, or dragon knights." He paused. "With me so far?"
"I think so."
My mind wandered while Dart continued with his explanation, going on to outline the defeat of Melbu Frahma and the rise of the humans. When he began to describe his own generation of dragoons, however, I began interrupting. //You sound like a textbook// I accused at one point when he stopped for a breath //And a wildly inaccurate one at that. I know as well as you do that things didn't happen that way//
/You were the one who told me not to tell him everything/ He reminded me. /And to him, I wasn't alive then, right? This version's only a bit different than the one generally accepted by society anyway, so it should fit in with anything he may learn from anyone else/ Fishing about in his jacket, he pulled out a water skin and uncorked it. After a long drink, he replaced the stopper and continued with his story.
When he finally fell silent, Zion was sitting quietly, trying to digest what he'd just learned. Giving a little cough, he scraped some pine needles into a little mound before scattering them again. "So let me see if I have this right. Dragoons are warriors who appear when the world is facing crisis. They did it twelve thousand years ago, eight hundred years ago, and now you think that they're coming back again? And that I'm one of them?" He shook his head. "But I can't--- why did you pick me?"
"Who said I picked you? Only the spirits can choose their partners." Dart got to his feet, brushing off his long jacket. "Call it chance, but for good or ill the red-eye spirit has chosen you. Now what do you plan on doing about it?"
Zion didn't rise right away. Pulling out the red-eye spirit from somewhere within the folds of his torn shirt he turned it over in his hands, watching how the sunlight caught in the crystalline stone. "It chose me, huh? I guess that I don't have much of a choice, then. Besides," he added airily, "its not like I have anything to do back in Kazas, what with there probably being a price on my head and all now."
Dart chuckled. "That's probably why it chose you in the first place."
"Wha?"
"The cult may make a big deal of the fact that they have two dragoon spirits, but if you were to look into it, you'd find that the dragon spirits aren't as friendly towards them as they'd like to think. You're one of the few people in Kazas that would actually defy them, whether you meant to or not."
"Cult? What, you mean the temple?"
"They're a cult." Dart said firmly. "No matter what they've managed to do with themselves, that's all they are when you boil things down. That kid they worship isn't even a real goddess yet."
I snorted. //The Moon Child was never meant to be a real deity in the first place. It's a god in name only//
"You sure the temple isn't after you too?" He asked, watching Dart closely. "They'd probably try to kill you on the spot for saying that."
"The key word there is 'try'. There isn't a cultist in the world that wouldn't like to see me lying safely dead, but no one's managed to bring me down yet." Dart pulled Zion to his feet. "Come to think of it, there's probably a lot of non-cultists out there who'd like me dead too. I seem to have this knack for mortally offending people of late."
"Good stuff." Tugging at his sword belt, Zion looked around at the rocky hills rising above the forest as though seeing them for the first time. "So, are we supposed to go anywhere in particular? Or just wander around until something bumps into us."
"Whichever. In any case, we should try to reach one of the northern settlements. I'm not doing very well in the way of supplies at the moment. Is there a road anywhere near here?"
"There's one somewhere off to the north, I think. It's been years since I last traveled it, though, so don't hold me to my word."
As it turned out, Zion was right about the road. The sun was sinking behind the foothills when, footsore and hungry, we finally stumbled across it. It was a broad track, beaten into the stony ground from decades of use. With the forest pressing in close and tree limbs overhead, it had the look of a tunnel above ground. Rubbing his eyes, Dart looked around slowly as they walked along it. /I think I'm starting to look forward to some decent sleep. I hate trekking cross-country/
//There is a certain distaste to it, isn't there// I agreed. //Especially in the summer//
/Sometimes I envy you/
//Really?// I asked sarcastically.
/No/ Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he wiped it on his pants. /You want to take over for a bit?/
I was about to respond when Zion suddenly spoke up. "Hey, do you hear that?"
"Huh?" Dart's mind, which had started to slide, snapped back into control. "What?"
"Listen. I think there's a wagon coming."
No sooner than he had spoken the words than a little horse-drawn wagon came rattling up the road behind us, its wheels squeaking occasionally on its poorly oiled axles. As it drew closer two figures could be seen sitting on the drivers bench. An old man in threadbare clothes hunched over the reins, holding the strips of leather loosely in an arthritic grip. Next to him sat a rangy man of middle years with fiery red hair, balancing a heavy quarter stave across his knees.
Zion hailed them, and the wagon creaked to a stop. "Evening, friends. You wouldn't happen to be willing to give a couple of tired travelers a bit of a lift, would you?"
"Not really." The rangy man looked us over suspiciously. "You two don't exactly look like honest travelers toting around weapons like that."
"Mercenaries," Dart shrugged. "A bit down on our luck and out of work, but that's how the world is."
"What are you doing out here?" The old man asked in a querulous voice.
"Truthfully? We were on our way from Bale to Kazas, but, uh---" Dart trailed off, losing his train of thought. Thankfully, Zion cut in before anyone could notice the lapse.
"We were going from Bale to Kazas, but this blockhead," he said, jerking a thumb at Dart, "Insisted on taking some shortcut he claimed to know of. Got us wonderfully lost, and we've been wandering around in these blasted woods for the past week or so."
//He's sharp// I noted.
/Blockhead?/
"A week, huh? That's harsh. Well, we'll take you, but its not going to be for free, mind you."
"Fine by me." Unbuckling his sword, Zion passed it up to the rangy man, who stored it under his seat. Dart unclipped his sword, but after one look at the hilt Red decided to let him put it away on his own. That taken care of, the pair scrambled up into the wagon bed before it lurched off again.
"We can take you as far as Seles. We stop there."
Wow. Thanksgiving is rolling around again, and I'm realizing that I've had this story running for close to a year. For me, that's a big, big WOW. And thinking about it, I'm reminded of exactly how the idea for the story came into being.
Spending thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle's, I had eaten way, way too much turkey and mashed potatoes (as I always seem to do). And so, lying about on the floor of the computer room, listening to my sister and cousins mass-murder Sims, I happened across a gel pen and paper. Me being me, I doodled. Unfortunately, turkey makes me think funny thoughts. I drew this one (bad) drawing of Dart sitting alone by a campfire, and decided to put a storyline to it. What I came up with is vaguely similar to the first few chapters of the story itself, and I jotted some notes down before shoving it in my back pocket and decided to sleep on it. I woke up the next day with bad hair and morning delirium. And for lack of anything else to do, started typing.
So there you go. Blame the turkey.
~ New dragoons merging with the spirits? I hadn't really planned on it. Ragnarok's enough for me. :)
~ What was the spell Zion used? I love it, but I haven't thought up a name for it yet. I decided that each of the dragoons are going to have different spells from those in the game, on the basis that I like the idea of them being sort of personalized. And I don't need anyone reminding me that yes, Zieg did use flame shot. I thought of that. And quite frankly, I decided to ignore it just as quickly. ^-^
DAMN RIGHT, SAFETY IS OVERRATED!!! :D
(The little - things indicate a pause or someone being cut off or trailing off before they can finish the sentence, for anyone who was confused. Sorry about that.)
Ragnarok's POV:
Closing the rough wooden gates, Dart wedged a chunk of stone under the bottom and kicked it firmly into place. Zion hovered about in the background; deathly pale and swaying slightly on his feet while Dart repeated the process with the second half of the gate. "Are you sure that those will hold?"
Giving the gate one last kick for good measure, Dart gave his work a cursory inspection. "Probably not," he admitted, "But it should give us a bit more time." Returning to Zion, he ducked under the taller man's arm to lend some support. "Come on. If you can make it to the forest, we'll be more or less safe."
//Are you sure that he'll even make it that far? He's dead on his feet//
/He just needs some rest. He's handling it much better than I did/
//Physically, at least// I said as they started to make their way slowly out into the plains surrounding Kazas. //Mentally, he'll probably need some help. What are you going to tell him? You really aren't all that great at coming up with explanations, you know//
/Then I'll just have to tell him the truth/
//The truth?// I replied skeptically. //I can just see that now: "Hey kid, my name's Dart Feld. Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be a thousand years dead and all, but some dragon's decided to live in my body and I got this choker that grants agelessness and all-//
/Well, maybe not the whole truth, then/ Dart cut in.
//A rather vague explanation should be suitable, Dart. This whole thing's so tangled up that even a sketchy description of what's going on should satisfy him. Besides, I don't think that he'd take too kindly to your profession at the moment. He'd probably have a heart attack if he realized that the Black Monster was standing in front of him//
/That or try to toss me into the nuthouse/ He grumbled. /But I see what you mean. We'll figure out something later on/
It was slow going across the field. At one time in the dim past rolling farmland, the shadowy landscape now consisted of a sea of waving timothy grass broken up by low hills and skeletal copses of alder trees, the sparse leaves silver in the moonlight. Overhead the a few thin clouds drifted about, but Moon continued to shine brightly even when one drifted across its scarred surface. As a result the land was bathed in a pale, blue- white light that was under the circumstances completely unwelcome. The dense forest that surrounded the city bordered the edge of the fields, almost a full two miles away. Not a great distance to walk on one's own, certainly, but Zion would be a handicap. In his state it was difficult to keep him from going face first into the ground whenever he stumbled and because of his height and weight it was difficult for Dart not to be dragged down after him.
We had made it perhaps a quarter mile out into the fields when the Western Gate swung outward at last, loosing a flood of torch-bearing cultists out onto the waving grasses. They wouldn't be too much of a problem; the light shining in their eyes would hide us well enough as long as we kept our distance. The only real danger were the two or three who were mounted; loping back and forth between the forest and the city, more than once we were forced to duck into a copse or the deep grasses to avoid being seen. Between hiding and Zion's handicap, it was close to two hours before we finally reached the tree line.
Under the canopy the forest was dark and cool. An owl, startled by our sudden appearance took flight from a rotten tree stump with a mouse dangling limply from its hooked beak. It passed across our path before ghosting off deeper into the woods on silent wings. In the wake of last night's storm broken limbs of every size littered the ground. The scent of dampened loam and moss hung heavy on the air, mingling with the heavy musk from a passing fox. Splashing through a stream that gurgled out from under the roots of a gnarled old oak tree, Dart finally let Zion slide to the ground on the other side. "I think that we should be safe here," he muttered, peering about nearsightedly in the darkness. Very little moonlight filtered through to reach the forest floor here, and as a result it was as dark as the inside of a kettle. "I'd prefer to go a little further, but if we can't see in here then they sure as hell can't."
Zion grunted and crawled over to the roots of the oak, near the source of the spring. "I suppose a fire's out of the question, then." He muttered, shrugging out of the shoulder belt that held his sheath across his back.
"If there was dry wood, maybe. Just try and get some sleep for now."
He sat up quickly, back scraping against the rough oak bark. "Hey! Wha-"
"You'll get your explanations in the morning," Dart cut in wearily. "Trust me, it's not the sort of thing that you want to have dumped on you when you're semi-coherent."
Zion grumbled about this for a bit, but soon his muttering ceased and his breathing steadied and deepened. Groping about into the darkness until he found a fat tree stump, Dart settled down with his back against it. /Well, I guess that's it for now/
//Do you need any sleep? I can keep watch if we switch// I offered.
/Thanks for thinking of it, but I think I'll stay awake a while longer anyhow/ Imitating Zion, he removed his belt and sheath and lay it across his knees with his good hand resting on the hilt. /I don't really expect that the search parties will be coming all of the way into the forest/
I disagreed. //You never know. They won't give up easily, not now that they know that he has one of the dragoon spirits. The cult already has two, and it's been a big enough pain retrieving those we have now//
/I guess that's true/ He admitted. /I wonder if they'll try sending either of theirs after us?/
//If they even have bearers for them. Finding someone who is compatible with a spirit isn't always the easiest task. And if the world is really in crisis, then the spirits are only going to be reacting to very specific people//
/This isn't going to make it much easier for us, then/
//"When dragoons meet, blood will flow, and as they leave, time does slow"// I quoted cryptically. //I don't think that we have to worry. If Zion isn't just a fluke, then sooner or later the prospective bearers will find us whether they want it or not//
/I guess so/ Dart scratched his ear and shivered. /You know, I think I will take you up on your offer after all. I don't think I'll ever manage to get the trick of ignoring temperatures like you do/
//Its easier when it isn't your own body// Taking his place as his mind eased out of contact, the sensations of the forest came flooding back. There was a bit of a chill, probably due to the fact that the damp moss was slowly soaking through his clothes. Putting it out of my mind, I closed my eyes and concentrated instead on the sounds of the forest around me, animals alternately waking up to hunt or settling down for the night. And of course, the ever persistent buzz of mosquitoes. Temperatures don't usually bother me. I'm even fairly indifferent to the weather. Bloodsuckers, however, irritate me.
Slapping my cheek idly, I wished that someone had had the sense to burn whichever fruit they had sprung from before it ever fell from the Divine Tree.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The dim minutes before sunrise plays host to one of nature's oddities. As grey dawn slowly descends upon the world in prelude to Sol's arrival, the birds of the forest will awake and burst into song. An unwritten ritual that has greeted the sun since time immemorial, the birdsong by far surpasses the rude ability of any human composer by leaps and bounds. Mourning doves, blue birds, robins, finches, and another hundred or so varieties of unnamed songbirds raise their voices as a one, piping their own individual melodies in a harmony so complex that the world's greatest court musician could spend a life time deciphering it and still never be able to imitate it.
In other words, it's a bloody awful racket.
The birds in the tree nearest to me scattered into the air twittering madly in panic. Hobbling over to where my boot had landed, I jammed it back onto my foot with a curse. After Dart had passed off the night had been uneventful. Too uneventful: with no reason to move around my attention had wandered and his body fallen asleep without me realizing it. As a result almost every bit of exposed flesh was now covered with itchy white mosquito bites, leaving me very uncomfortable and in a foul mood. As Zion was roused by my muttered curses, I noted with a sort of vindictive pleasure that he hadn't fared any better.
Stifling a cavernous yawn, the young man watched me through bleary eyes. "What's the matter with you?"
I told him- at great length.
I made no attempt to keep a rein on my language, and as a result Zion's face was slightly pale as I finished. Sighing mentally, I woke Dart with a jolt. //Enjoy yourself. He's a morning person// Without further explanation I pushed him to the forefront, retreating to my usual, insect-free vantage point in the back of his mind.
/What?/ Dart blinked once or twice, confused by the sudden switch. Then he caught sight of Zion's face. With a sigh, he started to shake his head, then stopped. /Ark, do me a favor and please keep your early morning explosions in my head, if you don't mind?/ Grinning sheepishly, he rubbed a bite on one of his knuckles. "Sorry. I'm not really one for mornings."
"I noticed," Zion responded faintly, getting to his feet and brushing the dirt off of his pants.
Since there wasn't really anything edible on hand they set of immediately, keeping the glow of the rising sun at their right shoulder as they headed north. Thankfully most of the birds seemed to have become preoccupied with foraging for seeds and worms, so we were able to travel in relative peace. The land had a gradual uphill slope that grew more and more pronounced as the miles wore on. By midday we had reached the foothills bordering the mountain range that divided Serdio in to two. From here it would be nearly a weeks walk at best to the nearest of the northern towns.
Stopping for a breather at the crest of one particularly steep hill, Dart pulled off his bandana and scratched his sweaty hairline. The summer heat was back in full force, the damp chill of the past few days forgotten. The crickets droned lazily in the shade of sun warmed bushes, the low persistent buzz a constant reminder of the heat. Slouching back against the trunk of a peeling old birch tree, Dart watched as Zion came up the rocky hill from behind. /He's been quiet this morning/ He noted.
//He's probably still mulling over what happened last night//
/I guess so/ Dart slid to the ground, tucking the strip of cloth into his jacket. Zion gave Dart an odd look when he caught up, but followed his lead and slid gratefully to the ground. Closing his eyes, Dart leaned his head back against the trunk and waited.
He didn't really have to bother with the pretense. Zion shot him an annoyed glance before looking away and clearing his throat. "You said that you have my explanations. Well, lets hear them."
Dart didn't bother opening his eyes. "What exactly did you want to know about?"
"What the hell do you think?" He exploded, the dam holding back his frustration bursting at last. "What happened to me last night? One minute I'm lying out of it on the ground, and then suddenly I'm throwing fire and flying? Normal people don't do things like that, Ry."
"I thought I already told you. You're a dragoon."
"Really? Well bully for me. Mind explaining what you mean by that, exactly?"
Dart opened his eyes a crack. "You don't know anything about dragoons?" he murmured, then sat up. "Damn. That could make things a little bit more difficult."
"Just put it plainly." Zion told him bluntly.
"I wish I could." Dart scratched his chin reflectively. "It's complicated, but I'll try to keep it simple. Alright, do you know anything about The Dragon Campaign?" When Zion looked confused, Dart shook his head and sighed. "Why does the world forget everything that's important?" He asked no one in particular.
//The world doesn't forget. Just humans//
He ignored me. "Okay, close to twelve thousand years ago, the world was run by winglies and their magic. And I don't mean just being the dominant species. They ruled everything; law, other species, the skies, even death itself. Humans, minitos, even the powerful gigantos were slaves, worked like beasts to till the earth to supply their masters with food. Not exactly what could be called a harmonious relationship. Rebellions were common, but they were put down without much fuss. Until one man turned the tide.
I'm not really sure what the story is behind him, but that man came to be known as Emperor Diaz. Humans who had managed to escape the oppression flocked to him, and eventually a fort was built on the desolate snowfields west of the Kashua Glacier. The few escapees became an army, and Gloriano was born. Attacks against the winglies were mounted from Fort Miagrad, but there were many problems from the start. Firstly, many of the most influential wingly cities are stationed in the air rather than on the ground-"
"Wait, what do you mean by 'in the air'?" Zion asked, confused.
"Exactly what I said. Wingly cities were enchanted so that they hovered thousands of feet above the ground." Seeing the look on Zion's face, he added, "Winglies had many technologies that we couldn't even begin to dream of, both magical and not. Incredible devices and I've only ever seen the ruins of the most impressive. Now where was I? Oh, right. Most of the cities such as Zenebatos and Aglis were of the flying type, and the others, such as Deningrad, were too heavily armed and defended for the attacks to be very successful. With their magic, the winglies were simply too powerful. And so Diaz and a handful of his rebels went out in search of a greater power.
"In all of Endiness the only race that the winglies openly feared were the dragons, and it was in them that the humans found allies. While the dragons as a race would not become involved, the spirits of seven dragons were given to the humans. When activated, the individuals holding the spirits were imbued with their power, transforming them into dragoons, or dragon knights." He paused. "With me so far?"
"I think so."
My mind wandered while Dart continued with his explanation, going on to outline the defeat of Melbu Frahma and the rise of the humans. When he began to describe his own generation of dragoons, however, I began interrupting. //You sound like a textbook// I accused at one point when he stopped for a breath //And a wildly inaccurate one at that. I know as well as you do that things didn't happen that way//
/You were the one who told me not to tell him everything/ He reminded me. /And to him, I wasn't alive then, right? This version's only a bit different than the one generally accepted by society anyway, so it should fit in with anything he may learn from anyone else/ Fishing about in his jacket, he pulled out a water skin and uncorked it. After a long drink, he replaced the stopper and continued with his story.
When he finally fell silent, Zion was sitting quietly, trying to digest what he'd just learned. Giving a little cough, he scraped some pine needles into a little mound before scattering them again. "So let me see if I have this right. Dragoons are warriors who appear when the world is facing crisis. They did it twelve thousand years ago, eight hundred years ago, and now you think that they're coming back again? And that I'm one of them?" He shook his head. "But I can't--- why did you pick me?"
"Who said I picked you? Only the spirits can choose their partners." Dart got to his feet, brushing off his long jacket. "Call it chance, but for good or ill the red-eye spirit has chosen you. Now what do you plan on doing about it?"
Zion didn't rise right away. Pulling out the red-eye spirit from somewhere within the folds of his torn shirt he turned it over in his hands, watching how the sunlight caught in the crystalline stone. "It chose me, huh? I guess that I don't have much of a choice, then. Besides," he added airily, "its not like I have anything to do back in Kazas, what with there probably being a price on my head and all now."
Dart chuckled. "That's probably why it chose you in the first place."
"Wha?"
"The cult may make a big deal of the fact that they have two dragoon spirits, but if you were to look into it, you'd find that the dragon spirits aren't as friendly towards them as they'd like to think. You're one of the few people in Kazas that would actually defy them, whether you meant to or not."
"Cult? What, you mean the temple?"
"They're a cult." Dart said firmly. "No matter what they've managed to do with themselves, that's all they are when you boil things down. That kid they worship isn't even a real goddess yet."
I snorted. //The Moon Child was never meant to be a real deity in the first place. It's a god in name only//
"You sure the temple isn't after you too?" He asked, watching Dart closely. "They'd probably try to kill you on the spot for saying that."
"The key word there is 'try'. There isn't a cultist in the world that wouldn't like to see me lying safely dead, but no one's managed to bring me down yet." Dart pulled Zion to his feet. "Come to think of it, there's probably a lot of non-cultists out there who'd like me dead too. I seem to have this knack for mortally offending people of late."
"Good stuff." Tugging at his sword belt, Zion looked around at the rocky hills rising above the forest as though seeing them for the first time. "So, are we supposed to go anywhere in particular? Or just wander around until something bumps into us."
"Whichever. In any case, we should try to reach one of the northern settlements. I'm not doing very well in the way of supplies at the moment. Is there a road anywhere near here?"
"There's one somewhere off to the north, I think. It's been years since I last traveled it, though, so don't hold me to my word."
As it turned out, Zion was right about the road. The sun was sinking behind the foothills when, footsore and hungry, we finally stumbled across it. It was a broad track, beaten into the stony ground from decades of use. With the forest pressing in close and tree limbs overhead, it had the look of a tunnel above ground. Rubbing his eyes, Dart looked around slowly as they walked along it. /I think I'm starting to look forward to some decent sleep. I hate trekking cross-country/
//There is a certain distaste to it, isn't there// I agreed. //Especially in the summer//
/Sometimes I envy you/
//Really?// I asked sarcastically.
/No/ Hiding a yawn behind his hand, he wiped it on his pants. /You want to take over for a bit?/
I was about to respond when Zion suddenly spoke up. "Hey, do you hear that?"
"Huh?" Dart's mind, which had started to slide, snapped back into control. "What?"
"Listen. I think there's a wagon coming."
No sooner than he had spoken the words than a little horse-drawn wagon came rattling up the road behind us, its wheels squeaking occasionally on its poorly oiled axles. As it drew closer two figures could be seen sitting on the drivers bench. An old man in threadbare clothes hunched over the reins, holding the strips of leather loosely in an arthritic grip. Next to him sat a rangy man of middle years with fiery red hair, balancing a heavy quarter stave across his knees.
Zion hailed them, and the wagon creaked to a stop. "Evening, friends. You wouldn't happen to be willing to give a couple of tired travelers a bit of a lift, would you?"
"Not really." The rangy man looked us over suspiciously. "You two don't exactly look like honest travelers toting around weapons like that."
"Mercenaries," Dart shrugged. "A bit down on our luck and out of work, but that's how the world is."
"What are you doing out here?" The old man asked in a querulous voice.
"Truthfully? We were on our way from Bale to Kazas, but, uh---" Dart trailed off, losing his train of thought. Thankfully, Zion cut in before anyone could notice the lapse.
"We were going from Bale to Kazas, but this blockhead," he said, jerking a thumb at Dart, "Insisted on taking some shortcut he claimed to know of. Got us wonderfully lost, and we've been wandering around in these blasted woods for the past week or so."
//He's sharp// I noted.
/Blockhead?/
"A week, huh? That's harsh. Well, we'll take you, but its not going to be for free, mind you."
"Fine by me." Unbuckling his sword, Zion passed it up to the rangy man, who stored it under his seat. Dart unclipped his sword, but after one look at the hilt Red decided to let him put it away on his own. That taken care of, the pair scrambled up into the wagon bed before it lurched off again.
"We can take you as far as Seles. We stop there."
Wow. Thanksgiving is rolling around again, and I'm realizing that I've had this story running for close to a year. For me, that's a big, big WOW. And thinking about it, I'm reminded of exactly how the idea for the story came into being.
Spending thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle's, I had eaten way, way too much turkey and mashed potatoes (as I always seem to do). And so, lying about on the floor of the computer room, listening to my sister and cousins mass-murder Sims, I happened across a gel pen and paper. Me being me, I doodled. Unfortunately, turkey makes me think funny thoughts. I drew this one (bad) drawing of Dart sitting alone by a campfire, and decided to put a storyline to it. What I came up with is vaguely similar to the first few chapters of the story itself, and I jotted some notes down before shoving it in my back pocket and decided to sleep on it. I woke up the next day with bad hair and morning delirium. And for lack of anything else to do, started typing.
So there you go. Blame the turkey.