Rot in the City of the Dead, Please
"Go away! Just leave us alone! Just go away! Leave!"
Fieri was screaming. Arche felt her voice wasn't working. This fight was going to be very short. Death was a very inevitable thing. There was no hope, but accepting that there was no hope, giving up, was a disgusting thought, and the feeling would be very bitter indeed. If it bleeds we can kill it, if it bleeds we can kill it…
The lance came down in a blur of black, striking the ground like a hammer. Arche grabbed Fieri and scrambled to the side.
"Arche…" It was Zeta. She avoided looking at him. His voice was so weak; it had lost its depth, volume, and that vigour and strength that he poured into everything he could. "Where's Ninetta? I need a healer…"
The lance didn't stop moving. Arche was running out of places to run. She cast a few cards, but they did nothing. Fieri kept screaming. I need more time…
With an unknown burst of strength, she summoned seven seals to one hand, and cast them roughly towards the Lord of Death. They all struck true. She didn't stop to see how fast the runes were fading… Whispering a wind spell and springing off the ground, Fieri in tow, she dragged them back across the ravine.
She set them down, surprised to find herself stumbling slightly. Fieri was clinging to her robes and sobbing.
"Fieri," she tried. Fieri didn't respond. She just carried on shouting and crying. She tried again, louder this time. No response. She didn't have time for this. "Fieri!" she shouted in the woman's face, slapping her furiously across the cheek. Fieri stopped; she looked dazed, even a little awed. "Fieri," now she had her attention, she wasn't about to waste it wondering what she'd just done, "I can't do this by myself. In case you didn't notice, Zeta, Ninetta and Yomi are dead, and we're the only ones left. I am not doing this myself. I can't do this by myself." Fieri still looked stunned. She was being so difficult… "Do you understand me? … Do you understand me?" Nod. "Then say it."
Fieri gulped. The place she'd fallen on her face had swelled up. It was the size of a fist, and it sagged over her eye. It was black and oozed blood; it was quite disgusting really. "Yes, I understand you."
"Thank you, Fieri."
What was that whistle on the air?
Nerves twinging, Arche grabbed Fieri and shoved her as hard as she could, and then threw herself out of the way. There was a crash of four heavy legs pounding into rock, and a giant white stallion blocked her view suddenly. The lance heaved from nowhere, aimed at her torso. She slipped past it, clinging to her cards; throwing her arm out, she cast a seal, which latched obediently onto her foe.
Not waiting to see the effect, she darted for the edge of ravine, and ignoring the scolds of her childhood, levitated to the other side. She didn't have very many cards – she needed to borrow Massenet's staff. She had a feeling he wouldn't miss it…
She stumbled slightly as she landed. Where was Massenet…? It took a few seconds for her to find him. He lay flat on his back, and mumbling incessantly…
"Massenet!" Arche shouted on instinct. She sprinted over, then remembered that he probably couldn't hear her. She knelt next to him, then remembered she was here for his staff. There was a roar of a grand fire spell somewhere in the vicinity of Lord of Death… She found the staff quickly… But what were these strange, glittering black shards scattered everywhere…?
She snatched the weapon up quickly, and the inkling that something was very, very wrong intensified. She looked curiously to where the crystal was set…
… Oh no…
Where the crystal should have been set. The black shards…
"… Why…Why… Don't want to see anymore… Don't…"
Massenet…
Feeling her face twist grimly, she threw the staff down and bounded instead for Zeta.
His blood lay in a pool round him, glistening a strange colour in the fading light. The first thing she noticed was the ragged, clinging breathing. His staff was clutched defiantly in a tight, shaking hand.
"Zeta! Zeta… your staff…" She hesitated. This wasn't a compassionate thing to do. "… Please may I have it?"
He looked up. "Arche… are you alright? Where's Ninetta?" His voice was so weak…
"There's no time," she replied as imploringly as she could. Her voice was weak too. "I need your staff."
"Take it then." His fingers loosened instantly, and the staff clattered to the ground.
Arche knelt, picked it up, and… she felt she owed Zeta something, for leading them so well, being so brave for them… She clasped her hand around his, and whispered, "I promise I will do everything I can to set all of this right."
She turned quickly and scanned the area for the Lord of Death before Zeta could make a reaction – Fieri was struggling, back pressed against the rocks, with the white horseman at the bottom of the cliff. She was swinging her staff, trailing flames, like an axe to keep her opponent away.
Arche leapt down swiftly, gathering a fire spell around her. Channelling with a crystal was… bizarre. She felt like she was trying to make casual conversation with a very shady-looking stranger. She released the spell as she landed next to Fieri, and it pummelled into the helmet. Fieri caught sight of her and sprinted somewhere off to the left.
A streak of black thundered down… Arche screamed involuntarily, and threw herself to the side, landing in a huddle, and shrieked out a spell for a shield. A smash of rocks…
A blue wall of energy surrounded her, and she clutched the staff tightly – it seemed somewhat reluctant to follow her orders. This was difficult. Chunks of the cliff broken by the lance were spat in different directions, very noisily.
Lord of Death hesitated. Arche stared dumbly from her shield. Then the horse whirled round to face her. Its rider roared. The lance was raised again.
What do I do? Why had she stayed kneeled? She should get up and dodge it… But she wasn't in a generous enough position for that. Stay here and hold the shield. It'll break!
In her confusion, she ended up trying both. She half-rose to her feet, movements weighted by her jolted focus. The lance soared towards her. The shield didn't hold; it shattered painfully, and she was thrown to the ground again. Mind racing, she used the momentum of her fall to stagger up again, and dodge the lance's next assault.
Heavy spears of fire pummelled into it from the side, knocking the lance askew into the rocks. Fieri shouted for Arche to move. Arche leapt to her feet and gathered a clump of flames at the end of the staff – she found she was lifted off the ground a few inches… she was channelling her spells properly – and threw a rather exuberant fireball into the thing's face.
She set off for open ground; she'd bounded perhaps a few paces when a young girl's voice implored feebly, "Please keep that up."
A fellow sage strode lopsidedly towards them, surrounded by a tumult of flames. Looking closer, Arche saw the flames were clinging to a series of metal fragments, and had taken the shape of a strange lion. Only an enchanter of truly exceptional ability could make such a complex spell…
It was Yomi.
How…?
As odd as Yomi's still being alive was, Arche had no time to ask about it. She answered only with a nod, and slipped into her odd and jerky focus. There was an important reason why crystals were made for their caster – Arche, using another mage's staff found she had to force her spells through some kind of mental barrier to cast them. The gusts of wind she summoned heeded her sceptically.
Yomi raised her sword as though it were heavier than normal, and pointed it at the Lord of Death. The spirit surrounding her streamed forwards, the shards gathering into a tight clump and the flames curling indistinctly; they shot forward with a hefty bang into the white chest plate, then swirled back into the lion. The enchantress sprinted after her creation, swinging her katana in a wide sweep across the horse's head.
Fieri's spells seemed sufficient support – she was a powerful caster. Arche however was beginning to feel the effects of not channelling properly. She felt feeble and tired. Gathering her thoughts to a calm, she knelt, trying not to shake, in an attempt to recover some of her strength. The ground beneath her knees shook.
Yomi's gigantic scarlet creation was also formidable. She swung enchantments from her weapon and shrieked simple commands with her more restricted range in the Language of the Making. Its attacks were wide and thorough, though not precise, and clanged against Lord of Death's armour with satisfying volume.
It was starting to stagger. Arche stared dumbly. Yomi swung her sword madly to the right, and the metal shards followed, the scarlet tide striking loudly. It couldn't possibly be right… The thing's will was not deteriorating as it should have been…
Midgard was home to many aggressive creatures, who would eat a human if they could catch one. But they would flee if their prey fought back enough to tire or injure them. So it was true that Lord of Death's sole purpose was to just… kill. Not for food nor sport, but… something else. Why kill? And why so resiliently?
There was some shouting above… The new unfamiliar noise startled Arche further. She raised Zeta's staff in the direction she thought she heard the noise… She could only make out black outlines atop the ravine. At least they seemed to be human.
"Arche!" It was Orius. She lowered the staff and her shoulders relaxed – she'd been so tense – and she began to ache all over. She'd never been so relieved to see him.
Someone was descending the cliff, shouting to destroy the "demon", and a white spell began above them. A moment of stillness revealed the rapidly moving blur to be Erita, screaming for her daughter.
Yomi was apparently not listening; she was still barking orders at the clump of fire, which had curled itself around the great black lance. The bone-white horse skipped to and fro at both its own sense and its ruthless rider's sharp kicks. Yomi was slumping over, blood visibly dripping down her front, but her fury remained steadfast.
Lord of Death couldn't swing the lance, with the enchantment wrapped so defiantly around it – it began screaming its barbed, high scream.
All the noise… Arche took several steps backwards… then saw several symbols being etched into the ground in a brilliant white light.
"… Quantus tremor est futurus quando Judex est venturus cuncta stricte discusurus…"
The speaker was a high priest, declaring the prayer so fervently. This was an exorcist of genuine faith – this spell was so different from bitter Ninetta's. The light was so pure and bright, the words filled with conviction… white feathers were drifting serenely around the caster.
Lord of Death screamed louder; with a last brutal tug, the lance was free from its prison of flames. Yomi was thrown backwards, and Erita darted to her with vehement panic. But Lord of Death's new target was atop the ravine. Horse and rider galloped past the sages and sprang for the rocks…
"Pie Jesu, Domine," the high priest noticed the approaching threat, "dona eis requiem aeternam!"
The spell exploded brilliantly – the iron chains erupted from nowhere and sprang immediately around Lord of Death, now suspended in the air in the centre of the ravine. The song of the heavenly beings rang clear, strong and ruthless. There was no movement within the chains – the soulless horseman didn't move, but the strange hollow, rasping voice whimpered against the prayer. The chains continued to tighten, and it screamed. They were gripping something unseen…
The white feathers continued to float on their unseen cold breeze. The thing shrieked still from its white, iron prison. The chains were tugging now. There was a moment of shaking tension… but the resistance gave way soon. The chains sprang away.
It looked as though Lord of Death had been torn apart, but its body remained intact. Lifeless once more, but intact. The thing that had been ripped to shreds… it was some kind of cloud, red, silver, grey… and oddly solid-looking. It was this strange clump of spirit that screamed Lord of Death's last.
The now soulless body toppled to the ground in complete disarray, clanging loudly, especially in the new stiff silence, against the rocks. And it wasn't a whole human that ended up in a heap in the ravine. Just the white armour. Nothing else.
… It's over.
Arche stared, fatigued. Relief was settling reluctantly. The armour remained as still as anything dead should. A dry breeze stirred the dust and stones, but the armour didn't move.
Erita was cradling her daughter defensively. Orius was gingerly descending the cliff. As soon as he reached the bottom, he ran to Arche and wrapped her in a tight, warm hug. Arche didn't move. She stared over his shoulder, still not sure how to react.
"How is Zeta?" she asked eventually.
Her uncle drew back, but his hands remained on her shoulders. "Canth is seeing to him now. Although… it doesn't… look good."
"… How do you mean?"
"I mean… if he survives, permit me to stress the "if" here, if he survives it is likely the damage done will be permanent. And Massenet… he will be dead by morning."
Arche nodded, mouth now dry.
"Don't be discouraged, my dear," Orius implored gently as her face fell. "You have done well."
She remained stiff, dry and numb. She wanted to go home. The events of the day would strike her later, and she would most likely make a reaction deemed appropriate to such happenings. She wasn't looking forward to it.
X-X-X
Kyo's light-headedness intensified bleakly, and she was vaguely aware of her head tipping back, before the world became heavy, black, and rather pleasant. Because that metallic, red taste spreading throughout her, a delicious glutinous taste that splashed and then seeped over a painful anger… was incredibly satisfying. It nearly placated her. Part of her grinned. Her frustration flared brighter and she waited for the same writhing red replenishment. She could feel it, but it was out of her reach. She got nearer, but it slipped through her tired knotted fingers. Anger exploded inside her again and…
This isn't me.
The wonderful taste that was placating the anger that wasn't hers… it was bitter. Why had it tasted sweet? And what was…?
Blood?
A bleary, completely unwelcome consciousness ripped at the corners of her mind, pressing in until it submerged as completely as the ocean. And then it was gone. Everything was gone. At least it didn't hurt anymore…
She found she had the option of opening her eyes, so she did so. She found herself staring at the stars. Well… some stars. None of the ones she knew. She sat up, frowning, and investigated them closer. White specks against a still black sky. Everything was still… no wind, no clouds, a plain dark landscape, and no aura of light around each star… no shine. She drew her knees up to her chest nervously… This place was… false.
She continued to stare. No living creature belonged here. Why couldn't she be brave? She needed to get out of here, but she seemed incapable of moving. She closed her eyes and wished and ached to slip away into nothingness. To never be plagued by nightmares, visions, voices, to never hear, speak, feel, think… She thought of Hawk and a fresh stab of pain raked her.
The air remained pitilessly still. She would have to move. No amount of hiding and whimpering was going to help her. Slowly, she heaved herself to her feet, a miserable defeated sigh welling up within her as she looked around. The ground was flat, the grass was still, and the dark dead plain seemed to stretch for many miles around her.
She turned a few times, scanning desperately for variety. She found none. Sighing fully, she picked a direction and began walking. As long as she kept walking, she would come across something…?
Dread was settling in.
How was she to defend herself…?
The sounds made in this place were hollow and completely dead. Where there should have been an echo or a ring, there was a brittle silence as the sound ended abruptly. The crackle of the bone dry grass, her thin breath, and the gentle tap of her shoes. The stillness made her teeth clench.
She didn't know how long she walked for. Time didn't seem to matter in this place. She just had to keep walking…
"Where are you going?"
It was hard to tell where the voice was coming from. First she froze, then she looked around tentatively. Stood behind her was a boy, a few years younger than her and a few inches shorter too. She looked at him straight in the face, mind far from ease. He was smiling in a soft, friendly manner. His face was sweet, oval-shaped with dark starry eyes. He looked reasonably well kempt, with something like a magic-user's tunic draped over small shoulders and almost tidy soft-looking brown hair curving around his chin.
"Who are you?" What is this place? What are you doing here? How did you just appear…?
They faced each other, he inquisitive, she anxious. He paused slightly before making his answer.
"That isn't important, not here," he said, smile wavering slightly. "Are you lost? I can show you the way." His face lit up suddenly. "Yes! I can show you the way, and we can be friends. I get very lonely…"
She smiled at him; he seemed genuine, if a little creepy. She was… concerned by the way he said "I get very lonely". He tailed off sadly with a sigh a lot deeper than the voice he was using. Almost dispelling her unease, she reached out her hand, and he took it.
She suspected he was younger than he appeared. He was clinging to her hand, and he seemed very… eager. But who was this little boy, and what were the dark plains he wandered?
"Aren't you ever cold in that?" he asked, frowning slightly at her patches of bare skin.
"I'm not from a cold climate. I wish it were more covering though, and I'm not sure about the colours…"
"Oh no, you'd look very odd in plain colours."
She laughed slightly. "How can anyone look odd in plain colours?"
"You would! Your eyes and hair are too bright. I really like your eyes. How are they purple?"
She was surprised he picked up on that. "I don't know. My mother's were hazel and my father's were blue."
"OK, so maybe if you add blue and hazel together and divide by half, then somehow you'll get purple," he decided cheerfully. She smiled at him. "They're so cool though… but people like blue eyes."
"I don't see anything wrong with dark eyes," she interjected quickly, hoping to dispel any out-of-proportion delusions about acceptance. "In fact, I prefer dark eyes." She blushed, realizing whom she had in mind. Black could hardly be natural, but they suited him so…
"You do?"
"Well, it's not such a shock, you know… like seeing someone open their eyes and they turn out to be really bright; it's like a punch in the face, isn't it."
"You don't think I'm weird, do you?"
She froze for a second, thinking of her inability to lie convincingly. Then she remembered something rational and replied, "You say it as if it's a bad thing."
"Well…" he said, then slipped into silence.
She waited for him to finish, and when he didn't, she continued. "I haven't really known you for very long, but you seem like a nice person. So even you are weird, as long as you're a good person it doesn't really matter. At least, that's what I've been told."
"You'd like me, even if I was really weird?"
"I just don't think being weird is a problem. I'm weird."
He looked very intently at her for a moment, which she tried to ignore. "You don't like yourself," he said slowly, "even though you should. That's weird, but not as weird as me."
"I…" She thought. Her reply made no sense. "I… do have… reasons…" was the best she could manage. "But there are other things that make me weird. I mean, really weird."
"Really?"
"Yes."
He waited for her to start explaining, and after a couple of seconds of silence, he prompted her. "Will you tell me?"
She paused slightly. "I can channel magic in ways other people can't. I see things that are false, and have nightmares that are true."
"Why do you hate yourself?"
"… Because I have no reason to like myself."
"You really think so?" he said anxiously. He lowered his eyes solemnly. It was the first time he'd taken his eyes off her. "You must hurt a lot inside."
That seemed to be all he had to say. His hand was cold. She realized she hadn't asked where they were going. "Where are we going?" she asked feeling more than a little stupid.
"Oh! To the city."
"The city?"
"Niflheim. Nobody feels pain there. Maybe you'll stop feeling pain too!"
"Niflheim," she repeated shakily. "Are you sure it's OK for us to go there?"
"How can it not be if they don't feel pain."
Kyo was not ignorant. She knew what was in Niflheim. "I should imagine they don't feel anything, or they feel lots of pain."
"Oh, but it's such an important place. It's in the roots, you know…"
Roots? What…? "Please, I really don't think this is a good idea…" She was now being led along at arms length. Her mother, her father… they would be there…
"Please don't worry! You'll be really safe there." There was no trace of pleading in his voice. Something quite different…
How could she face them? It was most definitely entirely her fault that her father had died… She didn't want to see them. "Do you know what that place is?"
His reply stopped her heart. He spoke with two voices: his usual earnest boys voice, and a deep harsh growl that spat the words with a malicious frantic excitement. "Oh yes, it's the land of the dead."
He knew. What was he? "There are reasons why the living and the dead should never meet," she implored desperately. His hand was clamped so tightly around hers.
"I know some humans who are trying to break the barrier…"
"Well, they really shouldn't be!" She was beginning to feel heavy and tired. Her movements were slowing, but he continued to drag her along. "Let the dead rest!"
The volume of her voice continued to mount, but his grip had all the leniency of iron. She was one of the few humans who knew what Niflheim was, or indeed that it even existed. The soul is an eternal thing. There were those who sought immortality; they knew this rule well, and so it was discovered, "The well of souls is found in Mimir's tree. A body is born and the soul resides within. While the body dies, the soul endures and returns to Mimir's tree to be reborn again." So why would there be a land of the dead if the soul doesn't die? The body dies and rots. The soul is reborn. What could one expect to find in this land? And so the scriptures of Nebilim, the first of the dark priests, went: "A soul that clings to life is unable to return to Mimir's tree. Only a soul that accepts the inevitable never-ending cycle can progress in it. Those who are unable to move cannot return, and with no earthly body, they cannot stay. So they are sent to Niflheim, a world in the roots, and there they remain until they accept death as part of the cycle."
So what exactly was this child…?
"Don't you realize what you're doing?" A shape was emerging on the horizon. It seemed to glow with a strange, misted blue light. Sorrow, frustration… It was slowly and painfully beginning to dawn on Kyo that there really wasn't a way to make the child relent. His grip was tight and bruising.
There were other grips on her… Wrapped defiantly around her limbs. She was becoming more conscious of them as well. Particularly around her neck. As though there was a millstone there. They were tugging at her as well, and… he seemed to be struggling against them. It hurt…
"This way… Now… This way… Hurry now, hurry…" The boy's voice emerged over the top of his words in a leisurely lilt; the growl was louder. "Rot there… Rot there forever! Go away! Never come back! …"
She listened to his insane ramblings and the screams that echoed in her mind. Help… Please… Let me live… Let me live… Don't want to die, no… not die…
…- not!
Her head swam a lot. She couldn't focus. She didn't see what happened next, but it burned, and her knees hit the ground. She suddenly realized that her hand was in view, and there wasn't someone else's clamped around it.
"It seems I was just in time," someone said mirthlessly. A newcomer. A newcomer… in the land of the dead? What's going on? She looked up to see this person striding towards her, footsteps making those dead echo-less noises. She couldn't see the child, but this man… he had not saved her out of compassion. There was nothing about him to convince her otherwise.
The fact that he moved so decisively was not good, she realized. With a heave of her hands, she stumbled to her feet, misjudged her balance and fell backwards… she tried to move again, but a cold, thin-fingered touch coiled around one arm, and another curled beneath her chin. She shivered and recoiled, lifting her head to avoid the hand.
He was sat directly over her, his face barely inches from hers, definitely a lot closer than she felt comfortable with. She froze. The first thing she saw was his eyes. Hollow and amber. They were deep-set and gazed lazily at her. The skin around them was white and clamped tightly over his skull. The scars etched across his features were too strategically cut and symmetrical to be common battle wounds…
"She is no good to me in this world," he drawled.
He's talking about me.
She tried to escape his grip, but the fingers beneath her chin wrapped around her neck. Her was breath was cut short.
… He wasn't strangling her. She was confused by that. Who was he? Was he on "her side" or not? She tried asking, one or other. She wasn't sure which one. She'd forgotten how to speak.
The grip tightened, and her mouth stopped moving. "You must return now. Rest assured, child: we will meet again." His voice dropped to a hiss, and his thumb pressed harder against her throat. "Viastes…"
She didn't hear the rest. The word pounded into her head like a hammer, and she was submerged in a deep black void again.
X-X-X
"Ruriko, I don't suppose you have any theories on what this "power" is of Kyo's is and why she can use it?"
Ruriko shushed him irritably. She had laid out a slightly grubby deck of cards with clotted detachment. After turning them over without surveying the results she gathered them back in and shuffled them slowly.
After an airy silence, she said, "I want to go to Yuno."
Taiken felt his annoyance flare up. "What does that have to do with Kyo?"
"Shut up! It does have something!"
"Ruriko, you're overreacting…" Draco tried.
"Shut up! I want to go to Yuno, what's wrong with that?"
"All of you shut up!" snapped Hawk menacingly. Kyo's steadily degrading health didn't do any favours for his temper.
Chisel still seemed to be in a reasonable mood. "Has she talked to you about it?" he inquired steadily.
"Yes." Interest descended on Draco's face. "She says something's after her…"
"That hates," interjected Ruriko.
"Indeed. Also, these creatures are just empty shells, it's the thing possessing them that we need to worry about," the hunter finished mirthlessly.
"Why's it after her?"
"She doesn't know."
Taiken sighed. "… Handy," he murmured dryly. "Ruriko, you still haven't answered my question."
"Oh! … Um… yeah, well…" She bit her lip. She paused. "Have you ever felt such a strange soul?"
"No, because none of us are sages."
She recoiled, flushing slightly, and shakily began an explanation. "Well, your soul makes up who you are, and it's also the bit that lets you channel magic. Kyo's soul is really… odd. Have you never noticed?"
"… No, because none of us are sages."
"Don't nitpick!"
"Well, since you are a sage, can you tell us exactly what it is about her soul that's so unique?"
Ruriko flushed again and grumbled something about "it doesn't work that way". Taiken didn't shift his stance or avert his frown, making it clear that he was still looking for an answer. Extracting information from Ruriko had never been a problem in the past, excluding the times before she was fluent in common-tongue. But during those times, she'd been eager to learn and very enthusiastic about their bitty and slightly awkward conversations. Sighing, she conceded, "We'll ask her about her parents."
"She'll get upset about that," Hawk informed them quickly.
"Why?"
"She thinks you'll all hate her when you find out."
Draco stood up, a slightly more impressive sight than such an average everyday action should be. Draco was a rather impressive young woman, with her dark desert beauty and sharp eyes veiling a sharp, aware mind. Also, this was the first time in the discussion she had surfaced to express her own view. "A group of people such as ourselves certainly understands that there is infinitely more to a person than their parentage."
"You think so?" Ruriko burbled in bewilderment.
Draco smirked, a little mirthlessly. "You and I were disowned because I helped you become a sage. Taiken was found alone and parentless as a baby and adopted by a young couple who already had an infant son and another child on the way." Her smile broadened. "Hawk and Oshi could've just materialised from thin air, and Chisel's a freak because he's normal."
"So normal that he's been betrothed to a girl from the age of six," Hawk added. He'd always found this little fact about Chisel incredibly amusing. Chisel replied only with a slight inclination of the head and a frown.
"Ah, that's right… You were abandoned…" Oshi said, casting Taiken a slightly curious look.
"That's right," Taiken replied mildly. Oshi seemed to be searching for another reaction, although he didn't find it; Taiken smiled. "It doesn't bother me. Fair enough, I was abandoned, poor meek little me – but I was found. For me, that's what's important."
The bard grinned, reminded of his parents in Yuno. As a child, he had been quite surprised to learn that his family wasn't actually his family. He wasn't really bothered though – he wasn't pining after parents who didn't want him. He'd just been a bit puzzled as to why Figaro and Lenette, his "parents", had cared for him so well even though he wasn't their son, but then he realized, and he gleefully recited the answer to his "big brother" and "baby sister" – our parent's are full of love, he declared, and I'm going to be too. The siblings entered into a pact together, which Rowan, being the eldest, had written down for them in his best handwriting: "We promise to love each and every person for who they are. Everyone is our beloved sibling. We shall be truly strong and noble in our hearts, because all the world deserves to be loved." They signed their names at the bottom in age order, Rowan, Taiken and Veretta. Draco said she found the whole story very funny.
"I'm sorry I'm so normal, but what's so bad about Kyo's parents?" Chisel remarked mildly.
Hawk sighed and his face fell – he'd been asked to not recite this piece of information. But then, it was in order to help Kyo. "Her mother was a dark priestess."
Taiken felt his face twist in puzzlement. "I didn't know dark priests were allowed to have children if they weren't to be raised within the guild," he said slowly.
"They're not normally," the hunter replied flatly. "They believe that love is very overrated, or something to that effect, the basic idea being that they only have children to continue the traditions of the cult. Also, chastity is a very valuable quality in a sacrifice or altar girl or whatever, so the priestesses normally aren't allowed to have children."
"But Kyo's father wasn't a dark priest?"
Hawk choked out a laugh. "Not quite," he articulated mildly. "He was a paladin."
"Oh, I think I get it now…" Ruriko mumbled in a sure, low voice. She looked Taiken straight in the eye. "It's an incredibly unlikely union – he holy and she dark. That probably has a lot to do with it. And you know how dark priests work?"
"Trampling all over your morals and being the object of focus in a disgusting inhumane ritual in order to improve your own power, correct?" Taiken replied.
"It's along those lines, yeah," the sage conceded, glancing around nervously at everyone else. "Well, her mother did that trampling thing lots of times, so it's very likely that Kyo could have inherited her mother's powers."
Oshi spoke up. "Does this mean what I think it means?" he asked.
"I don't know; what do you think it means?"
"With the right tutelage, Kyo could use shadow magic?"
Ruriko seemed to be caught off guard. "Ah… Well… I suppose so…"
"Is it really necessary though?" Chisel pondered.
"Have you ever fought a dark priest?" inquired Oshi sharply. After the room replied no, he carried on in a perfectly reasonable tone, "Don't. They're a real pain."
"Also, in case you didn't notice," Draco continued, "the bard and dancer's lore doesn't really accommodate to being particularly aggressive."
Taiken felt the only way to reply to this little stab was to stick his tongue out at her. Although, if he were ever pulled into close-quarters combat, he would often need rescuing.
"Fair enough, I suppose… Oh, that's a good idea, Oshi!" Ruriko burst out suddenly. "She has a lot of potential as a real magic user anyway… Wow! She could… you know… she could…"
"Be a dark priest without raping her humanity for all that it's worth?" Taiken supplied jauntily.
"Yes! Exactly!" Ruriko beamed.
There was a strangled gasp and a cough. Hawk leapt to his feet. Kyo sat up so abruptly, and immediately hunched over into a coughing fit.
Taiken felt a little stunned. When Ruriko woke up from a little collapsing session, she did so slowly and jaggedly. Kyo was acting as though she'd just escaped being drowned – she coughed extravagantly a few more times before gasping in great lung-fulls of air; she sat huddled on the bed, seemingly unaware of her surroundings, shuddering and breathing quickly.
Hawk approached warily, and knelt down next to her.
"Kyo?" he tried.
The frantic, jagged movements of her breathing subsided slightly, and she turned very slowly to look at him.
"Kyo, you're safe," Taiken added calmly. This seemed to have an effect on her. She surveyed her surroundings this time, and the people in it. She stared at everyone with something along the lines of fatigue on her face.
"Are you okay? What happened?"
Kyo's head swivelled slowly. "… I'm not really sure. I was… somewhere else. Are you familiar at all with… the concept of Niflheim?"
… What? "Niffle?" Taiken repeated incredulously.
"The name sounds slightly familiar; I think I read it somewhere…" Ruriko mused.
Hawk grumbled something along the lines of Ruriko's read everything somewhere. She did have a rather abundant personal library. "What is it?" he asked in an audible tone.
Kyo almost looked abashed, as though she thought she wouldn't have to explain it. "Well… it's where souls who… the souls of people who haven't accepted death…" Taiken's face was stabbed with a frown, and he heard similar reactions from everyone else. Kyo startled slightly. "Ah! Um… well… you have to accept the cycle to be part of it. The cycle of life and death. And… if you don't accept death as part of the cycle, then you're sent to Niflheim until you do."
There was a dramatic pause truly deserving of such a poignant speech from such an unlikely speaker. "Wait, so, time-out for difficult souls?" Taiken tried.
This drew bewildered frowns from all around the room.
"Ah… I think it's possible to think of it that way, but…" She raised her eyes in thought, face glazed with telltale signs of someone trying to remember something from long ago. "'A soul that clings to life is unable to return to Mimir's tree. Only a soul that accepts the inevitable never-ending cycle can progress in it. Those who are unable to move cannot return, and with no earthly body, they cannot stay. So they are sent to Niflheim, a world in the roots, and there they remain until they accept death as part of the cycle.'"
"Wait, Kyo, could you please repeat that?" Ruriko asked carefully. She opened her diary and raised her pen. Kyo complied, and Ruriko quoted her. "… Where did you read that?"
"I didn't… It's an extract from the scriptures of Nebilim. Someone read it to me."
"Your mother?"
"No! … No. I mean…" She turned and looked at Hawk, and he lowered his gaze apologetically. She carried on stiffly. "No, it wasn't my mother. She wouldn't."
"Kyo," Taiken began. She didn't look at him. "None of us mind who your parents were. We're not like that. So…"
"My father married her to protect her," she blurted out suddenly. "She didn't want to be one of them anymore, but she was born into it and there was nothing she could do… Father married her and when I was born they lived in a little house on the northern border…"
"So you were hiding?"
"Yes, they were."
"How did you end up in Arie then?"
"Because there's something that could mask my mother's trail. After my father died, the protection of the crusader's lore stopped working."
"What do you mean by something that could mask your mother's trail?"
"There are all kinds of seals placed there, in the Clock Tower I think. The seals created a kind of mask around the village, so they wouldn't be able to follow Mother by the spells placed on her…"
"Yeah, the Clock Tower…" Chisel mused. "Someone needs to go have a good poke around in that time-telling appendage."
"So that will that be our next destination?" asked Oshi.
"No. It will be my next destination." The blacksmith straightened lazily. "However… we've just discovered another lead. It seems the dark priests have the greatest understanding of the nature of Midgard. The scriptures of Nebilim will apparently provide us with a well of information, so knock on the gates of Glast Heim and see what you can find."
"I'm sure they'll appreciate a visit from us," Taiken said sardonically, "but hopefully not something completely out of our league."
"This isn't going to be a walk in the park," Draco broke in sharply. "Remember, these are dark priests; they're ruthless, and immensely powerful. They will not hesitate to kill us."
It seemed being an assassin meant dealing with dark priests at least once. "Indeed. They are ever in need of people to kill. We must do this carefully."
"'We must do this carefully'?" the other assassin said after a pause. "I was hoping you'd be against us going at all."
"I believe that with thought and care, we can infiltrate Glast Heim."
"Whoa whoa whoa!" Hawk suddenly expressed his thoughts on the affair. With renewed composure, he continued, "Glast Heim. A place submerged in something that can and did corrupt the very laws of nature. And we're going to waltz on in, tap the dark priests on the head, and ask could you possibly lend us the forbidden book of darkness."
"It's along those lines, yes. Look. Nobody ever said this would be done without difficulty."
"Many expeditions to Glast Heim have failed; what makes you think ours will succeed?" snapped Draco.
"I'm sure Ruriko has a way that someone from the outside can track us."
"And what do you think makes magic work? The soul and nature of the place is broken; no doubt any spells will go just a bit haywire."
"Wait…" Ruriko had resurfaced from her diary. "Sis, you know I learnt how to speak from aunt Yuuko?" Draco nodded. "Aunt Yuuko's a witch. She's a practitioner of a lore called Trestes – in common-tongue, that means "pursuer". I'm sure I can make my arts work there."
"If the guild mistress says so," Oshi submitted quietly, "then we have no choice but to obey."
Everyone in the room stared at Ruriko, who was relentlessly oblivious to this fact. She was sucking her thumb. "Wait, it's up to me?" she said eventually. She looked a little sheepish. "What do you think, Taiken? Where shall we go?"
Honestly, Taiken wasn't overly keen on the idea of going to Glast Heim. Draco had raised a very, very valid point: what will make our expedition any different than those who have already failed.
Unfortunately, it was the entire purpose of the guild to investigate change. They had been supplied with a lead, and now they had to follow it. Inevitably, their endeavours would eventually take them to the Nightmare City…
"Let's go to Yuno first," the bard dictated to his attentive audience, trying to convince himself that he wasn't taking them to Yuno in order to put off going to Glast Heim. "There should be something fairly interesting about Glast Heim lurking in the library somewhere, and we can take Kyo to see Orius. Also, I want my parents to see what I'm like at twenty years old," he finished jauntily. "Honestly, it's an overnight transformation; I'll double in mass and turn green."
"Yeah, let's do what Taiken said," the guild mistress decided.
"Hey, Chisel – do us a favour and at least stay with us for my birthday."