Pledges
Kyo… what have you done…?
No answer was visible on her face. Phreeoni hurtled towards her, ready to plough straight through. She stared at the blaring, screaming threat, swallowing visibly and biting her lip. She looked as if she was about to be sick.
The dancer sidestepped lightly, and a second later, Phreeoni's weight pummelled into where she had stood. The thing had barely turned before she'd sprinted to the other side of the cave, avoiding the tongue. The creature wheeled around, tongue ready again… Smash! Bang! Break! the assault shouted, the cave shattering like glass. Kyo slipped around the attacks tensely, lips moving soundlessly with the words go away, go away, go away.
A dry cough brought Hawk back to his senses, and he turned to see Draco coughing on a strange red dust emitted from a gemstone bracelet – Ruriko removing the Stone Curse.
Alder told Hawk sharply to actually get back to his senses; more under the falcon's instruction than his own, the hunter notched an arrow and aimed for Phreeoni. The tongue soared narrowly past Kyo's neck, and with a quick flash of confidence, he fired. The arrow flew swiftly, and was soon lodged into an earthy wall and Phreeoni's tongue.
The sand shook and the dust fell as another torn, grating scream erupted from the creature, its pitch erratic and its volume unbearable. The dull hi-issss emerged, and Hawk looked up to find the thick glutinous liquid beginning to seep over the arrow; it was going to disintegrate. He reached into his quiver, and found, exactly where he expected it to be, an arrow of immaterial. He didn't understand how the thing worked, but reasoned that some strange acidic saliva shouldn't be able to get rid of it too quickly.
Another scream sank into the damp walls, and the place was still again. A shuffling made Hawk jump, and he whirled around to see Kyo rising to her feet, shaking. The air was so heavy, it felt as if it could drown the humans standing in it. The rasping gasps and murmuring hiss rumbled like storms.
"Retches!" came a thick, high-pitched snarl.
"It doesn't mean us, by the way…" Oshi murmured, standing up. He looked a little dazed. Alder informed Hawk that it could have been concussion, but neither the hunter nor the bird were entirely sure of what concussion was.
"Oh good, I was about to act offended," Taiken said mildly.
A frantic rattle of ants' legs poured like a flood through the cave, springing to alert at their master's call with blank urgency. They came in a thick tide of glistening, scraping insect hide.
"Do we have to deal with them, because I really can't be bothered…?" called Draco. But Ruriko had already sprinted forward, and was raising the ever-familiar Fire Wall spell. Just as she was about to look satisfied, drill-like teeth sank into her shoulder.
She wheeled around, carrying her "Eek!" of surprise with her, diary poised to smack. But the thing had sunk back into the ground, making a channel of moist sand. Alder counted seven.
"Hodes," Hawk said dryly. They were ugly things, with non-descript flesh coloured bodies, small, black beady eyes, and deceptively large mouths, lined viciously with sharp cone-shaped teeth. They were strong like snakes, but they were technically worms. The thing that annoyed Hawk was that they tended to stay in the ground… until they attacked, that is. They were aggressive, territorial things, and were more than capable of killing younger fighters.
Oshi, however, was an experienced assassin with aggression issues of his own; so when a hode emerged to sink its teeth into him, it was sliced into four uneven segments with a pair of katars.
"Tedious," he growled. Close by, Kyo's heel smashed into another, and it fell to the ground instantly in a crumpled, dented heap.
Hawk held his bow in his defensive stance, watching a channel of wet sand move towards him. Alder told him not to bother; Kyo was moving to intercept it already. The hunter frowned.
Satisfied, however, he notched an arrow, ready, and his eyes fell on Taiken, who was running a knife through one of the worms awkwardly. Hawk fired, and the thing toppled instantly at the bard's feet with an arrowhead stuck through its mouth.
Two heavy crashes from an axe and two muffled flumph'son the sand informed the hunter that Chisel had dispatched another two, which meant the last…
Hawk heard it before he had time to find it. There was a deep rumble of fire, and a high-pitched "Eeeee!" He turned to see a hode, bottom half burnt solid black, flying through the air, trailing sand. Ruriko was very strange. She could've just frozen it discreetly, but no! She has to blow it out of the bloody ground… Other than that, the sight was quite amusing.
Phreeoni breathed heavily. The hi-iiss of the saliva grew in intensity. Ruriko gave the thing a sardonic frown.
"Feyis roi-té stai."
Shards of ice flew from above to Phreeoni in a blur of white and a cold breeze. They shattered noisily, issuing screams of rage from their target.
"Feyis roi-té stai."
The air became colder, and the ice pummelled into Phreeoni again. Ruriko stood with a hand on her hip and stared at the thing as it cried, and it stared back with bright red hate.
"Feyis roi-té stai."
The creature roared like vulture, and it's amber saliva oozed thickly. With a triumphant hiss, it flew away from the wall, with a Language of the Making chant echoing shrilly in its torn throat.
"Kai yitta me oros," roared Ruriko, a smirk ringing in her voice. The last time someone had asked what the spell was, an argument broke out. Apparently, it was the words eno va shi stai backwards, but it didn't sound anything like it. Ruriko tried explaining with a complicated diagram of the runes and the way they had to be reversed… not making a dent on anyone's ignorance, of course. Either way, Phreeoni's spell was broken. Hence, the technique's name: Spell Break.
Ruriko's smugness didn't last for long. Phreeoni slammed into her like a muscled boulder. She fell; as she was about to get up, the tongue swung across her face. Then the teeth were bared in their sharp glistening glory. With a gasp, she scrambled to the left. Phreeoni bit viciously into her torso. She squealed as she left the ground, clenched in Phreeoni's jaws. The hiss of the saliva roared irregularly.
Draco was there within a second. Two daggers were driven angrily into the mass of mauve. With a kick that looked too wide for human legs, Phreeoni's head was jerked to the side. It nearly dropped Ruriko, but the jaws clamped back over one of her legs.
"OW!" she said. "Ow ow ow ow ow! OW! OW! OW!"
Draco paced around the creature statically, staring incessantly at her sister. Ruriko's voice rose with each "Ow!" Phreeoni circled Draco precariously. Draco tried for an attack, and Oshi emerged from nowhere and followed suit. Phreeoni moved away, shaking it's head fiercely. Draco left her second self some way in front of it, and slammed her elbow into the thing's stomach; it fell back with a muffled shriek, shaking it's head very violently now – Ruriko swayed like a doll, swishing left and right too quickly at the wrong angle. A dull snap was heard soon, and a very shrill "OW!" erupted from the blur of movement. Chisel's axe belted across the thing's head, and it spluttered. The sage tumbled to the ground in tears, ow's continuing. She picked up her leg – now a mess of red holes and bending the wrong way – gingerly with both hands. Hawk shot as many arrows as he could into Phreeoni's mouth. Taiken took up his song of mending again, which calmed the hunter somewhat.
He stared mildly as the mass of mauve went for him. He let Taiken's song relax him further, and prepared to move out of the way, very quickly.
Suddenly, a timid, very afraid, sweet presence edged into his mind.
Don't worry, it told him, and he stopped worrying. He recognised it as Kyo. I think they called this Marionette Control. Just trust me… please?
He silently agreed, and felt her relief. He looked at Phreeoni again, and felt very sick. Phreeoni was something very capable of killing, but the thing in it's mind… a thing of malice. So bent on destroying everything. It had such a lustful determination to end life, and with a sadistic, inaudible roar, it promised his demise…
He stared at the creature, realizing this was not his own perception of it, but Kyo's. He felt a little numb by this revelation, but Kyo immediately told him to stay focused, and he soon had the impression of looking through two pairs of eyes. With his own, he saw Phreeoni run at him; with Kyo's, he saw Phreeoni lunge straight at him, and spin around to catch him with the tongue, and then an opening.. He felt his face fall into a strange frown, and stepped nimbly away from the lunge, and then swerve beneath the tongue. With both Kyo's and Alder's assurance, he seized his knife from his belt, and plunged it into Phreeoni's eye. He'd listen to it scream, but Kyo was much more interesting.
So… it isn't swiftness at all?
No. I can see it before it happens.
How though?
I don't know.
She was gone from his mind a second later, and he turned to see her, nursing a headache apparently.
Phreeoni staggered backwards, it's scream making a bladed wall of sound around it. It steadied itself, both of it's joint-less arms covering the now empty eye-socket. And then it…
It was gone.
Hawk gaped at the place it had been. There was a faint outline, which moved tensely into the shadows and became invisible. He looked to Alder, and the falcon flew forward with its amber eyes sharp and searching. Then he looked to others. Oshi and Draco exchanged glances, and concealed themselves with darkness and cloaked movements. Taiken drew his knife nervously. Ruriko ignited a spell of sight from where she sat. Kyo on the other hand…
She was following something with her eyes. Hawk immediately wished she was still inside his mind… she could see straight through it's Hiding…
She stared mildly at nothing. But Ruriko's sight spell was casting light on it, and Alder saw it too…
Kyo leapt out of the way and Phreeoni's tongue lashed out a second later. It roared in frustration and pursued her. She stepped lightly away from it's attacks, staring at places before they were hit. Five new dents trailed behind the fray of strikes and dodges; she swung both chakrams, one after the other, across the thing's face, and had sprinted away a second later.
It didn't have time to pursue, as Chisel's Hammer Fall spell came crashing down in a blaze of gold and heavy rumbling crashes. Oshi's katars sank into the thing's face, and were ripped through in a ferocious upwards swipe.
Phreeoni gasped. It ignored the assassin and the blacksmith, and staggered instead after Kyo. It was blind now – a clean, deep slit from a katar had just seen to that. It lurched onward, tongue dragging limply across the sand.
Kyo stared at it for a second. No mad, rolling eyes met her gaze, and with a sweeping movement of her arms, her chakrams flew deftly at the creature, striking it with a fleshy thud and a dull splutter of pain.
Oshi eyed it sardonically. He stood still, and Phreeoni continued it's lopsided, bleeding journey towards the dancer, very slowly. The assassin stood in it's path. With a swift, unseen movement, his leg swept around and crashed into the thing's head. It fell to the ground.
"Why… End everything… I… Why…"
Hawk was about to ask what it meant, but Oshi was kneeling down in front of it. The assassin made a clean slit down it's stomach. Black blood poured onto the sand, and Phreeoni's breathing became irregular and shallow. He sheathed his katars, and reached inside the creature with his bare hands. With a lot of effort, enough to emit a grunt of strain, he ripped something open with a cracking sound, and then rummaged around, apparently searching for something. Hawk felt bile rise up in his throat.
What Oshi was looking for was made clear a second later. Visible in one bloodied hand was a slowly beating heart, much larger than a human's and balanced carefully on the assassin's palm; there were thick, glistening black tubes leading back to Phreeoni. A small knife appeared from nowhere in his other hand with a metallic noise, and ploughed straight through the tubes. The strange black blood seeped out in dizzying amounts.
"It's very dead now," he stated flatly, discarding the heart on the ground. His arms were now black almost up to the shoulders.
Judging by the expression on everyone else's faces, they were having similar thoughts to the ones crawling across Hawk's mind: I think I'm going to be sick…
"Just make sure to wash your hands," replied Taiken, voice unusually faint.
-X-X-
Spectators had gathered in the quaint little Payonese village. It was situated in a pale cold valley, and the wind blasted through without remorse. Hunters in this region tended to tame larger falcons, like a peregrine.
The reason spectators had gathered was because of a duel that was threatening to take place between a barbarian and a sage. Bets flew around the crowd, all tilting in favour towards the barbarian, a muscled, brown-skinned man with a broad frame and a lot of height. The sage was a very slight woman, but she had started the fight…
The thick-necked man-mountain barbarian considered the entire affair a matter of honour. The sage would have scoffed indignantly at the idea of this scuffle being a labelled a duel.
The barbarian had already drawn his sword, which wasn't especially dainty, and brandished it expertly at the sage as he growled, "I'll cleave you in two, you stupid whore."
The sage couldn't pour any more exasperation into the sigh that served as her response.
"Well," she remarked dryly, "you'll have to stop posing and come do it."
He had already proven himself an utter idiot. She had told him so, a little too bluntly, and a verbal exchange followed. He was wilfully ignorant of his lack of intelligence, though he was by no means the first unable to match her wit; she had a sharp tongue, an intelligent cynical mind, and when angered her brevity became icy.
There were few outside the high wizards and the professors who could speak the Language of the Making fluently, but this sage just happened to be one of the few. But of course, there was no way the barbarian could know that. Her name was Arche, and she had indeed been offered the title of Master of Yuno, but she declined, remembering her near-total lack of patience for the slow and unintelligent – an attitude that would certainly do no credit to a teacher.
Contrary to popular belief, she was not ice-orientated in her spell casting. The element she favoured depended on her opponent, her mood, and whatever hand she drew from her deck of Rodusha cards. She was an unusual magic user, in that she never channelled spells with a wand or a staff – she fought exclusively with cards, a slightly expensive habit, but she could never find a staff that she felt suited her.
She eyed her opponent distastefully; if the wind wasn't blowing so hard, she was certain he'd be emitting the most unholy stink. From her satchel handbag, she withdrew her cards, unwrapping them from their black silk den.
There was a pause as the reply registered. He readied his sword and sprinted at her. She was ready. Her chant flew with the wind and some cards hovered from her hand and flew into place around her. There were twelve, all bearing the stocky rune of Naso (protection).
A card ripped itself in two, and a white shield untangled itself into a solid translucent wall. The barrier stopped the sword dead, and she didn't need to exercise much of her mental strength to keep it so.
When he didn't back away, she ordered the remaining cards to self-destruct. They darted at him, and burst into explosions of pearly flames. He took some time to recover. He was beginning to see, as was clear by the panic on his face, that he'd underestimated her. He had no idea who she was or what a sage could do.
It wasn't difficult to Soul Burn the barbarian – his mind was weak. Arche focused and found his soul quickly, and he was caught totally by surprise.
Break! she ordered it. As she came out of focus, a sensation much like breaking the surface of water to breathe, she felt the distinctive sound of a broken mind, like a mirror being smashed.
In terms of ability, there was very little difference between the best wizards and the best sages. In terms of casting, however, they were very different. A wizard's magic was magic of the earth and the skies, of the connection of everything and balance. A sage's magic was magic of minds and matter, the source of strength and origin.
A personal favourite among the better sages was the technique known as the Soul Burn. The caster focused, and could find the "soul" – the part of living things that channelled spells – and they could attack it. They could deaden it. They completely incapacitate their opponent's ability to channel any sort of magic from an intricate rain spell to a basic swordsman's blessing of agility. No one was sure how the name "soul" had stuck. People still firmly believed that the soul was what inhabited a body, and gave it life and feelings. Arche had heard Orius muse that the "soul" and the soul were the same thing, and Arche had pondered the concept aimlessly more than once.
She opened her eyes to see the barbarian drop to his knees some few feet away from her. He cried and clutched his head as if he wasn't sure it was there. The Soul Burn wrought such devastation on its victims' mind that they often fell into sleepy dazes, became paranoid, fainted with fatigue, or were left incapable of human speech – it took at least a day for them to recover.
Arche took a step forward and knelt down in front of the barbarian. He sobbed like a child, and Arche listened to a cynical thought that flew over her mind: They kill like men and die like boys. One hand groped madly at the ground next to him, apparently searching for his sword. She wrinkled her nose disdainfully.
"Well, that was an empty threat, wasn't it," she said wearily. She looked around at the still crowds buffeted by cold winds, realizing they were watching her apprehensively.
She was about to tell them to move along, when a warp portal burst into existence some way over to her right. An upside down image of the church in Prontera from the ground was visible, a very disconcerting thing to see if ever there was.
A priest (newly appointed, probably) stumbled away from it as if one of his legs was at least six inches shorter than the other. His face was quite egg-like, and he wore an itchy-looking woollen hat and furry earmuffs. He straightened, and he became slightly less lopsided and considerably lankier.
He looked at Arche. Arche stared back at him. He blinked a few times, then fished for a piece of paper from his pocket, clenching it defensively against the wind with both hands. He would look at the paper, then look at her, look at the paper, look at her, look at the paper, her, paper, her, paper, her…
"Arche the sage?" he asked, obviously nervous.
"Yes?"
He dug into his pockets again, and drew out an envelope, which he handed to her hesitantly. The seal was stamped with a seven-pointed star with two wands crossed over it – it was from the Yuno Academy of Magic.
She groaned. She'd heard about Akiro's condition, and she had a very good idea of what the letter was about. Her suspicions were confirmed a second later when the priest closed the warp portal behind him.
Orius had written to ask if she would take over Akiro's duties, just until he recovers he'd assured her repeatedly.
She sighed. She would not be a good teacher. But she couldn't refuse Orius when he needed her, and as desperate as he seemed to be right now – he had been like a father to her. And she was quite fond of Akiro.
She was also tired of wondering the wild, forest strewn Payonese mountains; the glowing cobbles of the white city would be a welcome relief.
"Righty-ho," she said to the priest, folding up the letter and depositing it into her bag. "Off to Yuno then."
-X-X-
Kyo woke in her comfortable bed in a cold sweat. She had hoped that the malice would leave her alone, but it still prowled after her in the night, haunted her dreams and left her feeling meek and dry. Consequently, she would wake up quite a lot earlier than the others. She would wander around the labyrinth, and both mornings ran into Draco, wary, narrow-eyed and clutching a dagger.
"Sorry," she said, visibly sighing with relief, "I don't know your tread very well yet."
Kyo blinked and told her it was fine.
She wasn't sure why, but Alder stayed with her during her solitary mornings. She really wanted to talk to Hawk. But he remained indifferent to her. In fact, he seemed afraid of her, if anything. She stared at the bird perched on her arm, and it turned to fix a glossy bronze eye on her face. She'd been convinced that the hunter thought of her as something different, that she'd found something different in him…
Well, obviously, you were wrong, weren't you.
She placed her hand against her cheek. She'd asked him to the festival, he'd accepted, he'd enjoyed himself, and he kissed her goodnight on the right cheek at the end of it.
She sighed. She'd been caught in a nightmare that she was sure was real. She called for him, and he came, and everything was OK again…
No… I don't think I was. There was something.
"So what did I do wrong?" she asked aloud. The falcon couldn't understand human words, so she didn't know why she directed the question at it. It continued to stare at her. It didn't understand the question, and couldn't give an answer.
Her village had been destroyed, and because he was there, she never had to think about it. He made things alright. Now things weren't alright, and he wasn't doing anything about it. She had some strange power that she didn't want. She'd lost the place she called home. She was haunted constantly by the thing that wanted to destroy the world. And now Hawk had just distanced himself from her.
It wasn't fair. She had been born in Arie, and therefore it was obligatory that the life she led would be boring, and totally without consequence. She would never see battle, she would turn eighteen in the spring, her mother would pick a husband for her, and she'd be happy or unhappy for the rest of her life. Either way, her mother would be there. She'd still laugh with her daughter, she'd still look after her daughter, and she'd even heal the tiniest little cut or sickness. Maia had taken all of the village children through every childhood disease, including the time the boy across the road had fallen out of the tree house. She'd even delivered most of them. And everyone had led their simple, happy lives in the shade of the Clock Tower. And now Kyo began to wish she'd been killed along with everyone else. Death was not a welcome relief, but it had to be easier than being the singled-out solitary survivor.
"Hey, you're up early!"
It was Ruriko, dressed in over-alls and a simple cotton t-shirt. She was as chirpy as ever (thankfully, a voice in Kyo's head whispered), despite the injury Phreeoni had done her. She wouldn't allow Oshi to snap her leg back into line (he shrugged, gripped his own wrist tightly, and with a visible one… two… three had snapped it back into position, creating a loud "crack!" noise, several winces and even a wavy yelp from Taiken). She and Taiken had healed what they could carefully; they didn't have much success. Her torso and her leg were burnt from Phreeoni's saliva, and the cuts made by the teeth were quite deep. She walked with a limp.
"Yeah, she gave me the fright of my life earlier," replied Draco, with an affectionate smile.
Kyo couldn't help but smile back. "Of your life? I doubt it."
It had suddenly become customary that Kyo kept the sisters company as they prepared breakfast. She felt a bit selfish, as all she did was sit and talk as they worked. She offered to help, and they declined violently; she kept offering anyway, hoping to catch them off guard.
"Hey, Kyo, sing something," asked Ruriko cheerily.
Kyo blinked, and felt the colour rising in her face. It was OK to sing to herself… but her voice wasn't trained and was small. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," replied the sage, bewildered by whatever offence she had caused. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but your singing's so pretty."
"I'll just agree with Ruriko and wait for you to stop being humble," hummed Draco in her detached voice.
Kyo sighed, but not with exasperation. She serenaded the pair with whatever folk songs she could think of. She knew more than she thought she did. She still had the feeling that she didn't sound very nice, but Draco and Ruriko quickly contradicted her.
Breakfast, being the only fixed meal of the day in the guild, tended to be uneventful. They ate when they were hungry, and previously, this led to annoying late night raids of the kitchen; so Taiken decided that everyone should at least eat breakfast. However, there was a semi-serious debate passed through the table.
"I'm just wondering if we should write to the prince and ask him to send us a priest to warp us to Prontera," Taiken mused matter-of-factly.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea…" mumbled Chisel uneasily.
"Why not?"
"I'll say it's a hunch."
"We can't make Ruriko walk that far. And plus, he sent a priest to warp Draco and Ruriko to Comodo."
"Yes, but that was because the barons had stopped them from leaving."
"Actually, it was Hester, one of the High Priestesses," interjected Draco blandly.
"See?" sang Taiken. "No harm in asking for a priest, especially since we're doing the prince a favour, and our esteemed guild mistress is injured."
The esteemed guild mistress looked up from playing with her chopsticks in her bowl. "… What's going on?" she mumbled with her thumb in her mouth.
-X-X-
Daily routine… people said it provided a certain sense of security. Excel thought it was just boring. She got up, she went to school, she screwed up in new and spectacular ways, she gathered ingredients, she came home, was berated by her parents, and then she went to bed.
Tone could still beat her in little duels as well. He wasn't as strong, and he hadn't had the same level of training as she had, but he could still beat her. He was three years her senior, but that didn't really matter because he could beat most people in spars. He could just… handle himself a lot better than most. He had a very average build, bordering on lanky. His hair was thick and quite dark, his was face narrow and his eyes were hazel, the overall impression being of a cynical, nonchalant teen. He was a full alchemist, and was a little too fond of making bombs.
"Excel, put that mallet down," he said dryly. Excel pouted; she was trying to see how fast she could twirl it, and she thought she was doing quite well. "Hyatt, do you need to rest?"
"If you please," replied Hyatt, colour creeping into her face, which was a bit of a shock against her sickly pale countenance. Hyatt had always seemed rather taken by Tone.
They walked to the nearest tree and basked in the shade. Excel couldn't be more bored. She remained stood and pawed the ground lightly with her foot.
"Hey, Tone, could I try on your hat thing?" she asked hopefully.
"It's called a Majestic Goat," he replied, with a little resent. Nonetheless, he handed her the strange accessory, and she received it with slight astonishment; it was deceptively heavy. Tone looked a lot shorter without it.
"Whatever," she sighed, fitting it over her head. The surprising weight vanished somehow when the slightly extravagant headpiece slid into place. It was something like a helmet, but it didn't go over the forehead, and was shaped into a pair of quite large ram horns. "It's so damn cool! Where'd you get it?"
"Bought it from a blacksmith. He was my uncle, but I'm supposed to be learning the value of money or something, so I had to haggle for it," Tone recounted wearily; despite having been born into a merchant family, he wasn't particularly concerned with money. "He said he cut it off a goat demon. I asked him if he was scared, and he laughed and said no, because it was less than a foot tall."
"It must have had a very big head; how did it stand up?"
Tone made a little "pffft!" noise. "Well, my dad did a load of stuff to it; something about palladium and a great big fire."
He took the Majestic Goat helm back carefully, and repositioned it over his head.
"Hey, can we do something fun?" asked Excel suddenly. She realized it was a stupid question. She tapped the handle of her hammer on the ground. She took an apple from her backpack, then realized that she had no intention of eating it.
"Like what?"
Excel stared at the fruit's smooth, glossy surface, turning it over in her hand and staring at the block of colour. "We could go hunting somewhere, or something. Payon caves would be fun, if we had an acolyte to come with us…"
Tone had been to some of the Payon caves. "You get lost so easily," he said.
"Well, that doesn't matter." A light, pleasant squelching sound signalled a poring passing by. Excel knelt down, and waved the apple in front of it hopefully.
"I was stuck in there for days."
"Well, you've just got a rubbish sense of direction, haven't you. Anyway, I want to see a sohee."
Deep within the Payonese mountains, there were supposed to be beautiful creatures called sohees. According to good authority, they were pale, pretty-faced, black-haired, and looked human. They floated, and had ribbons in their hair, and they stared at people apprehensively with shining red eyes.
Tone hadn't seen one, and she knew he wanted to.
"Like you said, we need an acolyte," he murmured evasively.
"I know someone who could go with you," Hyatt interjected with her meek little voice. "Do you know Ghost?"
Excel knew Ghost. Tone didn't. Ghost was paler even than Hyatt, though it wasn't due to frailty of health. Ghost was actually quite active. She was pale because she didn't have any colour in her at all.
"She's an albino," Chisel had explained. "It means there's no pigmentation in her skin or her hair or her eyes."
This made perfect sense. The girl's skin was chalk white, as was her hair. Hence the name Ghost. She was peculiar, to say the least. She carried a cat doll with a red ribbon on its tail and a vacant expression with her at all times, and she kept it perched on her head. She also channelled spells with it. All of the above, Excel was absolutely fine with. However, Ghost talked to the doll, saying it was nicer than anyone she knew. The acolyte preferred the company of people she dreamed up than real people. Tone's cynical nature was nothing to hers. She was definitely the strangest acolyte ever.
Hunting with Ghost would not be pleasant.
Excel was obviously pulling a face about it, as Tone quickly said, "Oh, she can't be that bad, Excel."
"Oh, she's not bad or anything. She's just…" Excel paused, but she wasn't pausing to think; the poring had taken her bait, and was sucking at the apple with incessant slurping noises. "… really weird. You know, in a scary sort of way."
"She is a very unique acolyte," Hyatt allowed quietly.
"Well, as long as she can heal, bless, and warp us, I couldn't care less," Tone snapped with his arms folded.
"Boo!" said the poring. It was such a cute sound.
"Boo!" replied Excel. She loved porings. Its smile grew more benign, and it blew a raspberry as she prodded it.
"I wouldn't recommend trying to tame another one; remember what the last one did."
"Ah, this one's different."
She patted it on the head. She decided she wouldn't try and tame it, and turned around back to Tone and Hyatt.
"Hey, is your brother coming back soon?" asked Tone.
"I think so; he wrote a little while ago. He said he was in Comodo, but he would be coming to Prontera. He'll be here any day now."
"Awesome." Chisel, being eighteen, was closer to Tone's own age group, and so, being male, he was obligated to prefer Chisel's company to Excel's. Although Excel couldn't blame him; Chisel was the best person ever. "Did he say how long he'd be?"
"No, but I think it's like… official stuff, so he won't really have much spare time."
"Is it true that someone survived the Arie thing?"
"Yes, she's actually in the guild now. The God's Cry, I mean. Chisel says she's really sweet, and that Hawk has the hots for her."
"Hawk? Isn't he the hunter? I thought he was really grumpy…"
"He is. One of the grumpiest people on Midgard. Chisel's really happy about it; he said Hawk needs a break."
"I suppose he does…"
"He also said that Oshi's improving. I have no idea what that means though…"
"Oshi?"
"Oh, he's one of the barbarians. The really grumpy one. Draco's the nice barbarian, Oshi's the quiet one."
Chisel had explained to Excel that Oshi and Draco were assassins, but she was not supposed to tell anyone. Excel only knew because she'd walked in on a rather awkward conversation. And Chisel made sure she realized that he would be extremely disappointed in her if she couldn't be trusted with the secret. The story was they were barbarians, one of the most common sort of people on Midgard. Traditionally, barbarians were swordsmen who didn't join the Pronteran Chivalry. It was very rare for a guild to have two assassins in it, and Chisel had said that there was a very good reason for it. He didn't explain it though, as neither Draco nor Oshi had explained why, and nor were they likely to.
Excel lost track of time very quickly, but as the trio rose to return to school, she noted that the poring hadn't left her side. True, it was asleep, but it was leaning on her leg.
-X-X-
High Priestess Hester was an impressive sight, in a pure, angelic kind of way. She was very beautiful, Ruriko decided. It was the way she smiled.
"Miss Hester," she called from the entrance of the labyrinth, "the prince won't care if my hair's a mess, will he?"
"The prince won't, but the barons will," Hester replied, "so it would probably be a good idea to comb it a bit."
"See, Ruriko? Hold still."
It had been years since Ruriko had done her hair herself. It was far too thick, and barely a few inches from the floor. So Draco took impeccable care of it, and when they had a schedule to keep, her bedside manner became merciless.
"Ow! Sis, you're pulling my head off!"
The mass of hair drooped bulkily down her back; Draco's rough beauty treatment made it temporarily free of tangles, and incredibly fluffy.
Ruriko pouted.
Hester smiled more broadly, though at what was unfathomable. She drew two blue gemstones from her pocket, and commanded them to make a mirror passage to Prontera Castle. They were thrown to the ground, and exploded like a wave crashing on a beach. The vaguely familiar image of upside-down Prontera rippled into view, and the rest of the guild looked towards Ruriko.
She groaned; she'd hoped she wasn't going first. She made her way carefully to the portal, so as to not have any more sharp pains shooting up her leg. This was somewhat of a challenge, as it meant that she couldn't let her foot come into impact with anything. She could either hop, or not let her leg leave the ground altogether, which resulted in her left foot doing lurching half-hops, and her right foot dragging after her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Hester looking concerned, and wished she couldn't.
It was very painful passing through the warp portal; it felt like she was falling through honey. She sagged in the cold darkness of the between, and her leg toppled after her, leaving her with the vague impression that it had snapped off. She was yanked jaggedly into a standing position, damaged limb shaking not quite in its socket.
She staggered away, mumbling "ow" on instinct. She felt her balance fail, and was immediately far too afraid to move her right leg. Deciding quickly that she'd rather land on her backside than her knees, she toppled back, landing a little quicker than she expected.
The gravel pinched through her gloves to her flat palms, and she arranged herself quickly to check that her underwear wasn't visible.
"This is so… bloody… annoying," she growled. What an understatement it was. It was long past the so-bloody-annoying category.
"Are you sure you're feeling up to this?"
She turned, a little strain tugging at her neck as she faced the sound. It was Taiken.
"I kinda have to be, don't I," she replied. Now that she thought, it seemed a tad unfair.
"We do need you… but if you're really not up to it…"
Draco came through next. "Is she alright?"
"I'm not sure that she should come with us," Taiken explained.
Ruriko felt a nerve snap. She didn't know why, but she did know that she didn't want to leave everyone else by themselves, or be excluded just because she wasn't particularly strong.
"I'm absolutely fine," she heard herself snap huffily. She rose to her feet as if she didn't have a care in the world. She had to fight back a wince. She didn't look at them, but she felt the bard and her sister exchange a glance.
The others came through without a word passing between any of them. Oshi came second to last. He took one look at her and said, "Stop putting on a front, Ruriko. You're not doing yourself any favours."
She pawed her Rodusha cards in her pouch menacingly.
Hester stepped through after. "This way, please," she said courteously.
The walk was agony, and Ruriko was limping by the time they'd passed through the first corridor, finding she didn't care anymore for this newfound little blazing streak of pride. She was considering starting to learn how to levitate when Draco suddenly appeared next to her, and her hand was quickly laced through her sister's.
She leaned heavily on the assassin for what seemed like hours. Then Hester was pushing open the throne room doors, and had strode straight through to take her place next to the prince, along with a blond knight and a man she recognised as Master Arne.
She entered, pride resurfacing, doing her best not to limp. She looked to see the barons, standing like storm clouds in their dark robes. They were all very tall. In fact, everybody seemed a lot taller. She wasn't sure why she hadn't been scared of the barons when she'd first seen them, but they were definitely scary now.
"Any particular reason why you couldn't just walk?" snapped one of them.
"Ruriko's leg's broken," replied Taiken cordially.
I know! the sage thought with gritted teeth.
"Any particular reason why you didn't heal it?" another followed up in the same accusatory tones. They were doing it to make Ruriko feel bad, and she knew it was going to work.
"None of us are healers," Taiken said in the same inoffensive tone.
"May I have a look?" asked Hester timidly.
Everyone turned to Ruriko, who stared blankly at her spectators. "Uh… of course you can… miss."
The high priestess strode forward purposefully. Her face was still riddled with concern, which Ruriko found a little intimidating. She felt a lump form in her throat, and Draco squeezed her hand lightly.
"How did you break it?" Hester asked.
Um… She wasn't sure.
"Picked up and shaken like a rag doll," Draco replied quietly.
"Oh, ow," Hester replied. She pressed a fist against the sage's knee experimentally, then felt around the bone, with noticeable force but not enough to merit an "ow." Ruriko stared at the priestess's blonde head for a little while, but there was a certain uneasiness about the place. It wasn't the barons watching her with distinct censure… it was…
She looked up to see Arne watching her with distinct interest. His eyes were sharp, and bright blue. They were really quite nice. She couldn't help but feel guilty at thinking that.
"Was this how it was when it was first broken?" Hester asked thoughtfully.
"Me and Taiken tried to heal it…"
"That's very dangerous," she interjected, obviously on impulse. "Only ever let an experienced healer tend to wounds. You've actually healed this wrong."
"You can heal things wrong?" The sage was quite bewildered.
"You're going to have to-…"
Hester didn't finish her sentence. It was quite clear Oshi had somehow anticipated her. Ruriko had been dimly aware of some background movement, but only when the assassin smashed his leg sharply into the back of her knee with all of the force he could muster did the impression really click. He had metal toecaps on his boots as well… It hurt in a sharp, cold, interesting way. The pain that exploded in her leg shot through her body in a steely storm. She shrieked, the agony stretching her voice to erratic pitches. Before she realized what was going on, a fireball chant swept from her mouth on instinct, and she threw the thing, overdone from panic, over her shoulder.
Several things happened at once. The fireball flew. Oshi ducked beneath it with not much in the way of surprise. Chisel yelped and threw himself out of the way. Ruriko toppled over onto her back. Arne had shouted a chant, and when the sage looked up, she saw that the crystal in his staff was emitting a dim glow that signalled that a spell was being cast somewhere. He'd caught the fireball with an incantation of his own. With expert swiftness, saint-like patience, and an almost motherly irritation, Hester repaired the newly damaged leg.
Ruriko stood up, expecting it to hurt. When it didn't, she smiled involuntarily. "Thanks!" she exclaimed. "That's great!" She was met with a humble you're-welcome.
"Do you think you could possibly disperse your fireball?"
It was Arne. Ruriko was immediately surprised to remember just how smooth his voice was. His face didn't alter as he spoke, and that was a little disconcerting. He just had her rooted to the spot with this steady, icy blue gaze.