Enter The Light
Part Twenty: Spring Battles
Standard Disclaimer Thingie: plot mine, characters not mine. Don't steal, don't sue, don't forget to moo. Moo!
The day was warm and sunny, the spring weather helping the trees and flowers and grasses to bloom and the world to become beautiful again. Not far from the palace yet beyond the village, Mimi sat on a smooth stone in the midst of a field that would soon be filled with beautiful yellow flowers. She leaned back, breathing in the clean air, feeling the sun on her face, sighing with the sort of pleasure she felt was only possible to experience in nature.
"I thought that summer would never arrive," she breathed. The sky above her was a beautiful bright blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that slowly floated along.
"It's not summer yet," Sora told her. "Only spring. Still, it's a welcome relief after winter." A shadow fell past her face and she looked up to see that Piyomon was enjoying the warm breezes as well.
Mimi stood, brushing dust from her skirt, a pale green, light fabric that easily dirtied. She glanced toward her own partner and saw that Palmon was lying in the grass a few steps away, mingling with the soil, enjoying the sun as much as Mimi. "And quiet," she added. "Peaceful and quiet."
Sora frowned, heading toward the grove of trees some distance away. They had come to enjoy the outdoors, but they had planned to seek out a few herbs for the medical supplies, or perhaps a few that might simply work as spices in foods.
"Oh dear," Mimi said suddenly, following. "I've ruined it now, haven't I? I shouldn't have said that. Now we're certain to have something attack us soon. Maybe today." She paused in her steps, glancing back toward the palace, visible from the field. "Maybe we ought to return. Perhaps it's not safe."
"Mimi," Sora interrupted, patiently, already quite a few steps ahead. "I'm sure everything will be fine. There's nothing to worry about. All right?"
After a moment, Mimi followed, but continuing where she had left off. "Still, I don't think we're finished, do you? Gennai told me there would be many enemies to fight. I wonder if I ought to go seek him out again. Maybe he'd have more advice."
Sighing, Sora shook her head. "No, I doubt we're finished fighting. I've begun to wonder if we'll ever be finished."
There was quiet as Mimi contemplated this for a bit and they entered the small grove of trees, seeking out herbs among the roots. The leaves of the tall trees cast patterns of shadows on the ground, and a few blossoms fell from the high branches to float in the air and settle at their feet.
Suddenly, the quiet was torn violently away as the tops of the trees were suddenly ripped off and an explosion just behind them caused both to run for cover.
The sound of vicious, rather cruel sounding laughter could be heard from somewhere beyond the dust and dirt that was thrown up into the air. Sora hadn't waited for further provocation, and Piyomon had already evolved even before Mimi had managed to pull herself up from the dirt, coughing.
"Are you all right?" Sora asked, helping her to her feet.
"I think so. What was that?"
Sora shook her head. "I'm not sure." She glanced upwards, toward the sky. "Can you see anything?" she called to her partner, but no response could be heard because just then another explosion sounded, and they were both thrown backwards once more, landing some distance behind where they had once stood.
"Cowards!" called the voice that had laughed. "Come and face me! Face your doom!" It dissolved once again into laughter, and the sound of many mini-explosions could be heard all around them.
"Palmon evolve!" Mimi heard her partner cry out from somewhere in the midst of the smoke, and the large, green shape emerged from the dust. "Togemon!"
"Do something about this dust!" Sora called, and Birdramon flapped her wings, sending the covering in the other direction. The laughter that had been echoing all around them faded into coughing. A tall, thin, human-like shape appeared, becoming clearer as the dust was blown away by the large bird's wings. It was wrapped entirely in bandages, only the eyes and mouth of the face visible, and the gray tips of its fingers, which were clutching some sort of a device that had been firing off the mini explosions.
"Ew!" Mimi said, failing to repress a shudder. "How hideous."
The creature, whatever it was, coughed a few times more before righting itself. "You'll regret that!" he shouted, and began firing again, causing a few trees to catch fire and a few mini dust clouds to appear as the missiles hit the ground.
"I don't think so!" Togemon shouted, running forward with one fist prepared to strike. She was immediately thrown back, however, when a few of the missiles crashed into her.
"Meteor Wing!" Birdramon shouted, sending her own shower of flames down from the sky. The enemy creature shouted in alarm and began to run around wildly, narrowly dodging the flames.
"Ha-ha!" he shouted as he danced, his long legs flailing below him. "Not so easy as I've thought! Ha-ha! Try these on, eh?" He laughed even harder. The air shimmered behind him and a battalion of small, walking mushrooms appeared.
"Oh, great," Sora muttered. She grabbed Mimi by the hand and ran backwards, hopefully out of the range of the Mushmon.
"Poison Smash!" shouted a dozen or so Mushmon in unison, and immediately a wave of small mushrooms sailed through the air, hitting the ground and releasing a cloud of green smoke.
"Poison?" Mimi gasped. "Oh..."
"Meteor Wing!" Birdramon shouted again, divining low to the ground and managing to set a few of the mushroom digimon on fire, and trap a few others behind a wall of flames.
"Prickly Bang Bang!" shouted Togemon, and a shower of needles flew into the crowd of Mushmon, causing a few of them to shout in alarm or pain. A few that were unlucky enough to be both on fire as well as stung deleted, but most remained, and continued to throw small mushrooms beyond the fire.
"We could use a bit of help," Mimi noted, her voice raising a few octaves as she spoke.
Sora looked toward the palace, but there was no sign that any one there planned to come to the rescue. "Looks like we're on our own," she told Mimi. "I don't think anyone is looking out the window right now."
"Who's that?" the other questioned then, pointing toward the sky. Sora looked up in time to see a shadow pass over the sun, and then a giant green bug flew into the midst of the battle. They could see few details beyond the green poison smoke, but they could hear the sounds of Mushmon screaming, and a few of the mushrooms soared through the air.
"I don't know," Sora said. "I've never seen him before…. And where's that crazy tall skinny one that was shooting at us?"
Mimi squinted through the dust, but saw no sign of the bandaged-covered digimon. "Looks like he left," she noted, frowning. She sniffed in disdain. "And he called us cowards. He left!"
"Well, he was winning…," Sora pointed out, but she too was frowning. "I don't understand."
"Fox Fire!" shouted a new voice just then, and they could see blue flames beyond the green smoke, and a wolf-like digimon with blue and white striped fur had entered the fray. A few steps behind him came Yamato, breathless and sweating, one arm thrown over his face to avoid breathing the poison of the Mushmon.
"Yamato!" Mimi called, cheered by the presence of the newcomer. She waved to him and he came, stumbling slightly over the grass, and collapsed near them, breathing the untainted air heavily.
"Are you both all right?" he asked after a few minutes of panting.
"We're better off than you," Mimi told him. "About time someone arrived!"
Yamato glared for a brief second, then pulled himself to his feet again. "They picked a good time to attack," he told them, explaining that nearly all of the castle's inhabitants (and all of the present Chosen) had been outside at the time, enjoying the spring weather, and he had only noticed the fight when he had returned inside for a fresh shirt. Indeed the shirt he wore now bore the stains of grass on it.
"But what do Mushmon want?" he wondered. "And why do they attack so near the castle?"
"They're not acting alone," Sora answered. "They were brought here by some sort of digimon dressed in bandages."
"Not the same - !"
"Seems it. Takeru hasn't returned yet?"
He frowned, shaking his head. "No, but this one sounds very similar to the one that attacked near the coast. I wouldn't be surprised if it were the same. I hope Koushiro has some idea of what this creature is and what he might want."
Mimi shivered despite the warmth of the sun. "So do I," she said. "Oh, hey! Look! We've won!"
Indeed they had, for there was no further sign of Mushmon and the green poison smoke was fading. Having de-evolved, their partners were flying back to join them.
"Who - ?" Yamato began to ask, but before he could even finish his sentence, the green bug-like digimon had again taken to the air and was gone. He turned to face the others, questions in his eyes, but they were as uninformed as he.
Miyako awoke with the smell of salt water on the air and a gentle breeze cooling the air. For a moment she thought that she was still at sea, but then she remembered that they had landed on an island and she was now on solid ground.
She was lying on a bed carved of the tall, thin palm trees that were common on the island, and dressed in a thin white sleeping gown. The room was made of smooth stone that had been whitewashed, making the entire place feel clean and pure.
And the magic. Miyako had never sensed so much magic in one place before, for she had never been around so many mages at once. Certainly there were many at the palace, but this place was filled with spell-casters and wizards and sorcerers and the power of their magic had been used to make virtually every thing on this island. So powerful was the feeling of magic that everything seemed brighter and whiter than anywhere else, and she would not have been surprised if someone had told her that the island itself had been formed from magic.
She left her bed and crossed the room. A small table held a basin of water, which she used to wash her face and hands, and a dress made of the same thin white material as the gown she'd slept in hung from a hook on the wall. Miyako dressed, feeling at peace with the world and all around her, and then sat down on the bed once more, closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the magic around her.
"Nothing, then?" Miyako asked, a frown on her face.
Hikari did not turn from the bamboo shelf filled with books, but shook her head. "It seems he spoke the truth when he said the spells were lost," she said, and then turned, leaning back against the shelf, holding one hand to her eyes as though they were hurting her.
"There must be something - ."
"If there is, it's not here." Hikari sighed, crossing the small room and sitting in a chair made of bamboo and lined with cushions. It was most comfortable, and she sank into it with an exhaustion of one who has spent hours searching through books. Miyako knew, for she had often seen Koushiro with a similar expression. Still, on Hikari's face it seemed to be more than a simple failure to find knowledge.
"We shouldn't give up hope," Miyako said. "If there is a way to break the spell, then it will be found here. If there was once a spell, then there can be a new spell. If nothing else, we can be glad he lives, right?"
Hikari was quiet and Miyako could see by her expression that her thoughts were wandering down a dark path. "It's not much of a life, is it?"
She had turned her gaze now out the window, toward the ocean just beyond, where the subject of their discussion was sitting, looking out at the waters. A few of the younger mages were sitting with him, peering out at the sparkling waves.
"Your friend has wisdom beyond her years," said a voice, and they both turned to see that the woman who had greeted them, Akiko, was standing in the doorway, the curtain pushed back. "Forgive me for intruding."
"What do you mean?" Hikari asked.
"She is indeed correct," the woman said. "If the spell once existed, then it can be made again, though this is a harder task than simply using one which was already made."
"So you mean a new spell must be made…?"
"Yes," Akiko answered, nodding. "It will not be easy. It will require much effort and skill. I believe the task will be easier for you, however, because you know his true self."
Hikari shook her head. "I've never even cast a spell," she pointed out. "How am I to make one of my own?"
Taichi had been quiet since the ending of the battle, though Sora noticed him glancing sideways at her several times during the evening, a vaguely concerned sort of expression in his eyes. When she looked back at him, he held her gaze a moment, and then turned away.
When dinner had ended and the rest of the castle's inhabitants had drifted off to their bedrooms or to other evening activities, Sora tapped lightly on the young king's door.
He was out on the balcony beyond his window, leaning against the railing, looking up at the stars overhead, not seeming to have heard her come in. Sora looked up at the sky, following his gaze, but saw nothing of unusual interest. The stars were beautiful, as always.
"No sign of rain," Taichi said, still staring upwards. "Not a cloud in the sky. Every star visible. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"I've never known you to be much interested in the stars," Sora answered, her eyes focused on a fixed point of light some distance out on the horizon. For a few moments, there was silence, and then she turned to face him. "What's truly on your mind? You've been quiet all night."
He turned his head from the sky and now faced the stones of the balcony, frowning as though in careful consideration of one of them. "You," he said, his voice so quiet that it was barely above a whisper.
This wasn't anything near to the answer that Sora had been expecting, and so she had nothing to say, and simply stared blankly at him while he continued to examine the floor below. After a long pause in which he didn't seem willing to explain this answer, she said: "Me?"
There was another long silence, broken by the sound of a few musicians in a room below them beginning to practice. Sora listened to the gentle notes as they distracted her from the current situation, and led her memories back through parties and balls where similar music had been played.
"Sora," he said then, finally pulling his eyes away from his feet and looking in her direction. "I'm glad you're all right."
"I…," she began, but faltered, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She suddenly felt the floor near her toes to be most interesting, and wondered from where this sudden shyness came. "Thank you…." she said softly, feeling as though she ought to say something.
"I'm sorry," he said, speaking quickly as though afraid she might run off before he'd finished his thoughts. "I feel as though I should have gone with you. I should have been the one to help you. Not as though you needed me…I suppose you didn't…but…." He trailed off.
A few notes drifted through the air. A warm breeze came across the balcony, causing the hem of Sora's skirt to dance lightly over the stones.
"I understand," she said.
There was a long silence, the music growing louder and the melody clearer. Taichi stepped forward, holding out a hand and she looked up. "There…is music," he said, a sly grin appearing.
She couldn't help but smile in return. "So there is," she said, placing her hand in his palm.
The air was warm and the breeze comforting. Takeru felt tired but accomplished when Pegasmon set down just outside the palace gates. It was dusk, nearly dark, and he was tired. He waited a moment for Patamon to take his perch on his head, and then started toward the entrance, feeling tired.
Briefly, Takeru thought he saw a dark shadow moving in the corner of his eye, and he turned, sharply, but there was nothing on the path behind him but a few soldiers engaged in casual conversation. Again, he thought he saw something move, but when he turned, there was nothing suspicious.
"I'm tired," he told himself. "Just tired."
"Tired, or crazy?" Patamon returned cheekily, causing his partner to frown.
"Both maybe," he admitted after a moment, yawning. He was looking forward to nothing more than falling into the warm comfort of a bed, and he was hoping that he'd make it to his bedroom without too many interruptions.
The entrance hall was quiet, empty of all, even servants. Taking care to make as little noise as possible, he slipped through several unused hallways and up staircases that were used less often than others until he had reached the corridor his room was in.
The bed-chamber was quiet and dark, no fire nor candles lit in preparation for his arrival, but Takeru did not much mind. He removed his boots which had begun to suffocate his feet, and sat down in a chair near the window, where the dim light of the stars peeked through the curtains.
"It's cold," Patamon commented, having settled into a comfortable perch on the back of the chair. He shivered.
Takeru yawned and rubbed his arms with his hands. "I'll light the fire," he grumbled, and took a candle from the nightstand and went into the sitting room next door.
The fire in there was warm and welcoming, and he stood by it, warming himself by the light of it for a few minutes before he lit the candle in its flames. He turned back toward his room and had nearly reached the door when another door on the opposite side of the room opened and Yamato entered.
"Just returned?" the elder brother questioned, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He had already changed into his nightclothes, but he did not look nearly as tired as Takeru felt.
"Yes," Takeru answered, trying to make his voice sound as exhausted as he felt. He entered his room but did not shut the door, and used the candle to light the fire.
"There was an interesting thing that happened today," Yamato told him, a forced sort of casualness to his voice that suggested strongly to Takeru that it was more than simply interesting.
The fire now burning brightly in the fireplace, Takeru set the candle atop the mantle and sank onto the bed. He yawned once and then, when Yamato had said nothing more, he wearily asked, "What was that?"
The walls were a drab stone gray, the light minimal, the room tiny. The door was a heavy wooden slab that creaked open on its ancient iron hinges with a loud screech. A tall figure dressed in a black robe, features entirely obscured, appeared in the doorframe. It was an imposing figure despite his anonymity, the lack of visible eyes not failing to express a sense of controlled rage.
He was quiet, having made himself as invisible in the darkness at the back of the tiny space, but the dark figure knew he was there, he had ordered him there. No words were exchanged, but the orders were clear, and he followed his master from the tiny space, down the sparsely lit hall. There was no sound but his own shuffling feet.
"She is here," said the dark figure then, his voice deep, the sound of it familiar some how. The words struck a chord of memory, of fear and concern – emotions he had not felt since he'd entered this dark and dismal place. For a moment, he forgot his place and thought to speak, but there was instantly a sharp pressure upon his throat, and he fell silent again, knowing that fighting the spell would only exhaust him, and accomplish nothing.
It must be, he thought, some way of tormenting him, of reminding him that he was helpless, that he could not aid her in any way, that he must only watch an unspeakable horror. As though sensing his private thoughts, however, the dark figure stopped shortly. "I did not wish her to be involved, though I know it is inevitable."
His master must have sensed his disbelief of this statement, for he whirled around sharply to face him, the faceless void of darkness beneath his hood once more glaring without eyes. "I don't have a choice in the matter, however," he stated, and then turned again and headed down the hall, heels sharply clicking on the stone floor beneath the long black robe. After a moment, he followed, taking quick steps to catch up.
At the end of the long hall was a room with another heavy door, and the dark figure opened it and went inside. Sensing his master's wishes, he did not follow, but instead stood motionless and silent beside the door until his master had reappeared, carrying a heavy bucket filled with water. Again knowing orders without being spoken, he took the bucket and turned away.
"You don't believe me, do you?" the dark figure questioned from the doorway of the room, and he stopped. There was the sound of a deep chuckle from behind the dark robes, and he said: "Perhaps one day I'll explain myself to you."
The walls were a pale white save one that was a smoky blue. The light from the rising sun filled the room, bathing everything in a warm golden hue. He awoke to find himself lying on a soft mat on the floor, eyes pointed at the ceiling, which was the same pale white as the walls.
"Nothing?" said a woman's voice, striking a chord of memory in his mind. He turned his head toward the voice and saw her, standing before a wide window, framed in the light of the early morning sun. Her hair was long, her expression, concerned.
"No," said another voice, this one belonging to his mistress, yet sounding another chord of memory. Her voice was sad, but also tired-sounding. He turned his head toward the voice, and saw her, an expression of disappointment on her face, her eyes distant, looking out at the ocean beyond the windows, seeing nothing.
"It was a distant possibility at best," said a third female voice, this one unrecognizable to him, and so he didn't bother to turn to face her. "Still, this spell has done something, even if it did not set him free."
"Has it?" said the first voice, sounding so surprised that he turned again to face her and saw that she had squinted her eyes toward him. "It seems all the same…."
"It has," said his mistress, still peering out the window without seeing anything. "He…feels different…but I'm not sure how…." She turned her head to face him and studied his face for a few moments. Neither of the others said anything, and it was at that moment that he remembered her clearly. Not as his mistress, but from before. It was but a fleeting memory…the realization that the recognition he felt was not a recent one. Then it was gone, but the unmistakable realization that he had known her before remained with him.
"I daresay his memories are returning," said the woman he did not know, and he then turned to her for the first time, to see who it was that had reflected his inner truth so accurately. She had very long hair, and bright blue eyes, and a certain sort of air about her that made her words sound knowledgeable and wise. "This is important," she added, noting that he was now watching her for the first time and returning his gaze. "Without his memories, he cannot regain his true self, and without the true self, freedom becomes impossible."
There was silence, and he turned back to face his mistress. She was now looking at him with a similar expression. "I see…yes. I feel it. I…it feels as though part…part of his mind awakened that was not before."
"He lost his memories?" the other woman in the room questioned, a tone of surprise in her voice. "Is that part of the spell that binds him, or was that a different spell intertwined?"
"I suspect it is part of the spell of enslavement, though it is impossible to know for certain. I healed his mind, and yet part of his mind is unreachable – I would guess beyond the bindings of the spell. Healing magic is often unsuccessful in healing the mind."
"No," his mistress said then, still not having taken her eyes from his own. "They are not gone. They are not lost. They are hidden away from him and he cannot reach them. I believe…I am certain that when I have freed him, they will return to him."
Iori sheathed his sword, hearing the satisfying sound of metal sliding in place, and wiped his face with the cloth at the edge of the room. The sky beyond was lit with the stars, but otherwise dark, and a light breeze rustled the curtains. He stood near the open window, allowing the wind to evaporate the sweat on his forehead. The night felt peaceful, and calm. Armadimon snored lightly in the corner on a pile of spare mats.
There was a light tap on the door and a small boy burst in, a few drops of sweat appearing on his face. A small Piyomon had followed him, which surprised Iori as he knew the boy and knew that his partner was not a Piyomon.
"Thank heavens I've found you," the boy said, clearly out of breath. "Sir. This Piyomon has just arrived from the north. There's been some sort of attack in a village called Little Mountain, near Tachikawa."
"Thirty two dead, at last count," the Piyomon reported. "Countless injured."
"How long ago was this last count?" Iori questioned.
"I left three hours ago," the Piyomon answered. "The damage was assessed right before I left."
Iori nodded, turning toward the boy. "Awake the other Chosen, if they sleep. Assemble them all in the throne hall. I'll go and alert the king."
"Yes sir," the boy answered, bowing sharply and turning to leave, the Piyomon following behind him. Iori sighed, forced back a yawn, and poked Armadimon to awaken him.
"Come on. There's work to be done."
I'm actually pretty happy with the way this is going, and I've gotten a lot of writing done recently , so expect another update before the end of this month. I wasn't going to put in a section from Daisuke's point of view, but now I'm glad that I did, because I don't think it came out too badly, and I think I kept everyone in suspense about him long enough. . ;;
That being said, writing continues. Hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing! Thanks for reading and reviewing!