Chapter 6

By:Zosocrowe

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Ocean: Till the End of Time

I have merely borrowed a couple characters to create

a silly fan story. I have no money either

02/01/05

Thanks to Rezuri for a wonderful review (do you beta? ha ha). I'd been thinking of editing chapter one, not quite liking the style of writing I used there compared to other chapters. I've gone ahead and made some changes, trying to "tone it down" a bit, you motivated me to get off my butt and do it. laughs As for the introduction of Kasia and Kaine so early, I've gone ahead and left it as is for now. Thanks for the suggestions and comments everyone!

Nel sat in the courtyard of Woltar's mansion watching several soldiers lead a dull green dragon from the depths of The Keep. It blinked in the sunlight, its eyes a opaque color of yellow. The large, leathery wings held flat to its back opened and stretched, revealing a paper thin skin several shades darker than its body.

One of the soldiers produced a high, gleaming black saddle with an impossible number of straps and buckles. The leather creaked and the metal clanked as the two men worked together to lift the tack onto the creatures withers. The dragon made a low, eerie chuffing sound from deep within its chest. The massive head bobbed up and down several times and one of the men gave the beast a hard slap on the neck. The dragon snorted, nostrils flaring, and suddenly swung its huge skull into the soldier's chest. He fell to the ground, landing on his back with a solid thump. His companion laughed and the affronted man glared at the beast, cursing loudly. The dragon promptly stepped on his foot, turning his swears into screams.

Nel smiled.

Her gaze wandered from the screaming man and cantankerous beast. She looked to the sky, noticing how the sun sat low in the horizon. It was late afternoon, far beyond the time she'd wanted to be on her way. She'd planned to be in Peterny before nightfall, but as it was now, it would be well after dark or into the morning if they didn't leave soon.

She'd yet to see Albel.

Leave it to him to make things difficult. Nel was still uncertain about the decision of taking him with her. It probably wasn't a good idea. Actually, she knew it wasn't a good idea, but she'd let her compassionate nature get in the way...yet again. The Albel she remembered from so long ago was difficult enough to get along with. Arrogant, self centered, obstinate, aggressive... Dealing with him was about as pleasant as rubbing her face in a nest of porcupine quills. With all his added emotional baggage he could only be worse, and that thought made her shudder.

She knew she should have said no to Woltar, but the old man was so damn persuasive. Albel was more of a liability now than he ever was before. What if he went on one of his tangents while they were on the mission? He could up and disappear, leaving her alone in hostile territory. Woltar assured her it was unlikely, but that meant nothing to Nel. Unlikely meant still possible.

So why didn't she decline the proposition? It wasn't because she and Albel were friends, that was for sure. She didn't even like the guy. Not many people did. His deeds, the ones that gave him the title "Wicked", made him a monster among men. Most would say that what had happened to him was justice, yet Nel couldn't bring herself to agree.

She knew the pain of losing a family member. With the loss of her father, she felt like she was losing a piece of herself, but never in her wildest dreams could she imagine watching him die, murdered before her eyes, unable to do a thing about it. Something like that would destroy a person. She wouldn't have survived it. Yet, Albel had lived through it twice, a profession to his strength, but even he wasn't left unbroken. No one, not even Albel the Wicked, deserved such agony.

Her opinion might have been different during the height of the war, but during the battle with Luther, she'd learned there was more to the man than just his name. Once, she'd thought him evil incarnate. He was indeed ruthless and cold, but underneath that harshness was a man who cherished his freedom, took pride in his honor, and held a deep seeded, if not warped, sense of righteousness. He was sensitive to his surroundings and was easily offended by things he didn't understand. Somehow, during that short time they spent together, he became more real and less of an icon.

What if Woltar was right? What if this mission was the key to opening Albel's eyes again?

Who was she to deny him the chance to be whole again? If she refused and Albel sped off to his doom, she'd always wonder if it was her decision that clenched his destiny. That was a responsibility she didn't care to carry.

Come what may, she'd agreed to help Woltar by taking Albel with her to Greeton. She was bound to her word. The two of them would have to find some common ground if they intended to survive and complete their mission.

So far, they were off to a rather poor start.

Albel had refused to let her heal him. Woltar assured her that there was a doctor on hand who would issue a healing draught or two to get the warrior up and going. She'd seen the doctor go into the mansion, carrying his box of medicines on his back. That was two hours ago, and there was still no sign of Albel.

What the hell was he doing? Healing potions didn't take long to take effect, ten, maybe fifteen minutes for the injuries he sustained. He couldn't be packing either. They were traveling with only the barest essentials for the time being. She planned to stock up on more supplies once the reached Greeton. Most likely, he was still angry at her for using magic on him and was purposely dawdling to be peevish. That was the level of pettiness that she expected from someone like him.

Nel stood up from her place on the steps and brushed her bottom. Now wasn't the time for immature and contrite games. Fayt's life was on the line and they needed to leave. Now. If he thought she wouldn't abandon him in Kirlsa, he was sadly mistaken. Adray was in Arias and had offered to come with her. She'd declined because he wasn't the most stealthy of warriors and this mission would require them to make as little noise as possible. If it came down to it though, he was better than nothing. Or perhaps not...

Nel turned to go back into the mansion. She'd tell Woltar that Albel had a half hour to show himself or their deal was off. She had her foot on the first step when she heard the green dragon bellow in anger. Startled, she turned, her hand instinctively going for her daggers. The last thing she wanted to tangle with at the moment was an angry dragon. Could it get any worse?

"What do you maggots think you're doing?" a gravelly voice shouted from the east wing of the courtyard. "Don't you worms know anything about dragons?"

Albel stood just outside a wooden doorway that lead to the east side of the soldier's quarters. He was dressed head to toe in black. He wore a long fitted jacked that buttoned at the waist by three silver buckles. The coat flared out at his navel, revealing pale skin under a mesh shirt. Suede pants hung low from his bony hips and disappeared into knee high boots that were held into place by a multitude of little straps and buckles. His toes and ankles were protected by silver steel, and his sword was tucked into its scabbard, held at his hip by the braided rope of his belt. His shoulder and wrist guards matched the glinting metal of his mechanical arm, the sun sparkling off his knife-like hand.

The bio-mechanical arm had actually changed somewhat. Gone was the large shoulder guard. It had been replaced by a smaller one, making his shoulder seem more narrow and natural. It could be easily hidden, especially underneath a long cloak. His throat was pale as well between the high lapels of this coat. He'd ridded himself of the iron collar too. He looked, almost normal, except for the contrasting brunette against wheat blonde that made up his hair.

Nel watched him move across the courtyard, his long legs carrying him at a graceful, yet menacing pace. Apris, only he could make walking look so artistically arrogant. It'd been a long time since she'd last seen him, and he hadn't changed much at all. His face was a little less boyish, those dark eyes of his a bit more narrow and his jaw not quite so soft. His clothes were still flashy, though she had to admit, she was shocked to see him in anything other than his brazen sarong and brash midriff. If it wasn't for his naturally growling voice and the wild ropes of hair, she might not had recognized him in a crowd.

Albel reached the blundering soldiers and yanked the lead from a pair of trembling hands. "And you call yourselves Airyglyph soldiers. Bah! Get out of my sight!" Every world dripped with sarcasm and he made a harsh gesture with his hand that sent the nervous men bolting for their quarters.

"Humph," he snorted, turning back to gaze at the dragon. A look passed over his face, something close to respectable dislike. He and the beast shared a long gaze, as if sizing each other up.

Nel waited in the shadow of the stairway. Albel didn't care much for dragons, if she remembered correctly. He'd lost part of an arm and his father to a colossal monster during his failed Accession ceremony. Burned to cinders they were, so his aversion with the creatures was founded. He'd ride them if he had to, but only if there was no other option. "I was born with legs for a reason," he used to tell Fayt, though no one was certain at the time if he was just being difficult or if he was truly nervous around the monsters.

The dragon dropped its head and the tightness left Albel's face. He led the lumbering creature to a steel hitching post and looped the reins loosely. The beast stood absolutely still as the tall man adjusted the saddle and worked the straps that held it in place. He only used one hand, keeping his claws away from the delicate pieces of leather and dull scales of the dragon's hide. His fingers moved deftly with practiced ease, but it looked awkward.

Nel suddenly realized for the first time that Albel was actually handicapped. His artificial arm was honed for battle and he used it with such skill and dexterity that most people forgot that it wasn't an actual part of him. The reality was that outside of violence, the mechanism was probably quite troublesome and Albel wasn't much different from anyone else missing a limb. Simple tasks, those that needed soft, flexible fingers, like lacing of boots, tying of hair, or even getting dressed for the day, most likely took him more time that the average person. His talons were meant to cut through steel and bone. Gentler tasks were beyond their means.

How did he manage? He wasn't the type of person to take help from others.

"Are you just going to stand around all day gawking?"

Nel jumped. She'd been staring, an incredibly rude thing to do. She almost apologized, but then remembered how irritated she was at him for making her wait. She moved from the stairway and stood a few feet beyond the pole, just out of the dragon's reach. Albel's sienna eyes slid to her as he reached beneath the dragon's belly to secure a girth. He gave her an unfriendly look and turned his attention back to the strap, his shaggy hair hiding his face from view.

"You look like the Grim Reaper," she said, looking over his all black attire.

Albel made a noise in his throat. "Better than looking like some cheap, tavern prowling harlot, I suppose," he remarked, not looking up.

Nel blinked at him. She suppose she deserved that. She'd started it. Slinging insults with Albel was like waging war. One had to strategize their attack or he'd cut them down in a matter of moments. A person had to admire such wit. Or dread it. Or just leave it the hell alone.

Still, she was no harlot and hardly dressed like one. The chauvinistic remark annoyed her. By Aquarian standards, she was clothed rather conservatively. She had on a midnight blue fitted jacket with white trim over a tightly bound body suit of leather. The sleeves were short, but long enough to hide her various runes and the neckline was modest, only showing a small amount of cleavage. She wore a long sarong, slit up the side to about the mid-thigh, also dark blue and white. Her boots were soft leather, incasing almost each leg just above the knee. Beneath her clothes she hid several daggers and a short sword.

She'd chosen her clothes carefully. There were very few humans inside Greeton and most of them were farmers or merchants. Waltzing into the country looking like warriors would be like waving a flag of aggression. They didn't need that kind of attention. Stealth would be their strongest ally. Apparently Albel had read her report, though he looked more like a noble than a simple working man. She wasn't going to argue with him about his attire. He'd made an effort, which said something.

Nel crossed her arms and looked peeved. "You're late," she said. "I hoped to be to Peterny by dusk, but by the looks of things, we'll be lucky to make it to Arias by nightfall."

Albel grunted as he gave the cinch one last pull. The dragon snorted and turned its massive head back to look at him. "Well, perhaps if you hadn't tried to kill me earlier today, I'd have been more prompt. So pardon me if I'm not moving as well as I normally do."

"I offered to heal you," Nel replied.

"No thanks. I've had about as much of your magic as I can bear today." He stood upright and turned to glare at her.

They continued to scowl at one another, the silence drawing between them. Finally Nel sighed and cast an exasperated look at the larger warrior. "Okay, so I got a bit carried away. You can't blame me though. You were out of your mind back there..." Nel clamped her mouth shut, her eyes widening a bit. Never good to point out to an insane man that he's nuts. Makes them testy.

Albel stared at her, an angry expression flowering on his face.

"Look," Nel said hastily. "I didn't..."

"A BIT carried away?" Albel growled, his eyes narrowing and totally oblivious to her insult. "Is that what you call it? So, I suppose if I get 'carried away' and lop off your head, it'll be just fine?" He was angry, his cheeks reddening and nose wrinkling in disgust.

Nel wasn't about to be intimidated. She shook her head and remained calm. "No, of course not," she said quickly. "Listen. I apologize. Honestly, I didn't expect to hurt you that badly." It was true. She was sorry she'd gotten herself into this mess. Oh, and she really hadn't intended on practically cooking him to death either. That was an...unfortunate...accident.

Albel looked at her skeptically. "Hn," he grumbled, leaning down with boneless grace to pick up a satchel Nel hadn't noticed. So he had packed. It wasn't necessary for him to bring anything else. Nel watched curiously as he attached the bag to the saddle. "You should keep your wits about you. Next time, you won't be so lucky." He glanced over his shoulder, his face unsmiling. "You don't wish to see what I'm capable of when I get carried away."

Nel gave him a dull stare. She hadn't asked for his help only to be threatened and bullied. "Oh, I think I've seen enough," she retorted. "It wasn't that impressive, seeing as it didn't take long to lay you out. I think I can handle myself." She smiled slightly at the flash of anger that crossed his face.

Albel's eyes narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin white line. "You got lucky, that's all," he growled at her. "It won't happen again."

Nel shrugged. "I hope not. It would be a shame for such a seasoned, resolute warrior such as yourself to be defeated by mere thoughtlessness."

The tall captain snorted and turned away, putting a foot into the stirrup. He hoisted himself over the dragon with artful ease and settled into the saddle. The beast shifted, sidling sideways under the weight of the slender commander. He stared down at her from his seat, an impatient look upon his face. Nel moved back. She had little experience with dragon kind and the large creatures made her cautious. Albel was supposed to feel the same way, but he mounted with such practiced aplomb, she wondered if he'd gotten over his aversion. "What are you doing?" she snapped at him, glaring at the smile that spread across his face.

Giving her a wry grin, he turned the creature to the right and extended a long arm. "You are in a hurry, are you not?" he said. "By dragon, we'll reach Peterny by nightfall." He crooked a finger at her, motioning for her to take his hand. When Nel hesitated, his grin spread to show a hint of teeth. "The Crimson Blade scared?" he asked derisively. "You've done this before."

Taking a dragon was indeed a brilliant solution to their time problem. She was ashamed she hadn't thought of it herself. Such an oversight for a superlative spy like herself was shameful. No doubt, Albel had concocted the plan himself, and no wonder he hadn't been concerned with time. Most likely, he'd let her sit and worry just to spite her. Such pettiness wasn't beneath him.

She stared up at him, her frown deepening as she glanced at his outstretched hand. Still, she had her reservations. The dragon was the least of her worries. The idea of being so close the Albel the Wicked made her skin crawl, but she supposed it was a small sacrifice to pay considering Fayt's life rested in both of their hands. Honestly though, under any other circumstances, she'd rather hug a yunati. "It's not the dragon that concerns me," she replied sourly.

Albel leaned back in the saddle, scooting until his back hit the large cantle. He patted the empty space in front of him and laughed at the look on Nel's face. "Come now. You're wasting precious time," he prodded, his strange reddish brown eyes gleaming. "I promise not to bite, though I can't say the same for him." He pointed at the toothy dragon with an exaggerated flare.

Glancing at the space Albel had cleared for her, Nel scowled. "Not there," she stated with a shake of her head.

The grin slipped from Albel's face, a frown furrowing his brow. "What, woman? You can't ride from behind. If you fell, catching you would be awkward, if not impossible."

The idea of plummeting to her doom wasn't very enticing, but neither was having Albel pressed against her backside. That suede he wore was tight and looked thin. A shiver coursed down Nel's spine. No thanks. She shook her head, "I'll take my chances with the dragon."

He stared at her a moment, his lips pursing as if to say something. Finally, he shook his head gave a gallic shrug. "Stubborn fool," he muttered, turning the dragon to he left and leaning over to hold out his hand to her again. "So be it. If you fall to your demise, I will not be responsible. Nor will I scrape your carcass off the rocks."

"No one is asking you to," Nel remarked. "I can take care of myself." She grabbed his wrist and felt his hand close all the way about her flesh. His fingers were long, like those of a harpist or pianist. He'd never touched her before. She glanced up at him and noticed a look of curiosity and skepticism on his gruff face. "What?" she asked a bit more harshly than she intended. Normally she wasn't so obviously agitated, but being around Albel got on her last nerve.

The man blinked at her and another unpleasant smile spread across his lips. "You must put your foot on mine if I am to pull you up," he sneered.

Nel did as she was told, thankful that not only were Albel's fingers long, but his legs were too. She'd never be able to mount a dragon on her own, though she wasn't a short woman herself.

"Grab the strap," Albel instructed, reaching behind him to jiggle a piece of worn leather. "When I pull, you use your leg and arm muscles to climb up. Got it?"

Nel nodded and wrapped her hand around the strap. She was ready.

Albel was far stronger than she anticipated. He gave a short jerk on her arm and she launched herself into the metal of his gauntlet, smashing her face in the process. Stunned, she reached out blindly, one hand locking onto the tender inner flesh of Albel's thigh and the other grasping a rope of bound hair. She pulled. He howled. The dragon, confused, circled and roared.

"Damn it, woman! What the hell are you doing?" Albel shouted. He grabbed a handful of jacket and dragged her across his lap, swearing under his breath at his sore scalp. Nel only laid there, dazed, the blood rushing to her head as she gazed with distorted vision at the ground below.

When the ringing stopped, she crooked her neck and looked at him from the corner or her eye. "Now what?"

Albel rubbed the back of his head and scowled. "I should make you ride that way to Peterny," he grumbled.

"I'd rather die."

"That can be arranged."

Nel started to move, irritated at the entire situation. "Just can the jokes and help me up," she snapped.

"Ouch," Albel yelped when her elbow came dangerously close to his crotch. "Who's joking, fool?" he snarled back, pushing her arm away and rubbing his stomach.

Nel sighed heavily. Perhaps this was a sign? They hadn't even left Kirlsa and already the trouble between them had festered into an angry boil. The mission didn't bode well at all. Abandoning the plan sounded pretty good, though it clearly wasn't feasible. They'd wasted too much time for her to come up with something else. The queen, Fayt, and Woltar were counting on her, but what good would it do if the two of them ended up killing each other on the journey? Apris help them...

They were flying through the air. The wind bit at Nel's face, her red hair whipping wildly. She donned a pair of riding goggles, but they were fogging up and she was too afraid to move her hands from the death grip she had on the gullet to clear them. Below, the ground raced by, the trees looking like small shrubs and the rivers like bands or blue ribbon. Never had she imagined a dragon could fly so high or so fast with two riders. It was excitingly terrifying.

That wasn't all that was terrifying, however. Nel sat very still, as not to fall, but also because she could feel the steadily line of Albel behind her. His arms formed a sort of cage about her, one hand on the reins, the other resting lightly on the saddle next to hers. His thighs pinned her in place and kept her from slipping when the dragon adjusted for turbulence. Occasionally, his chin would bump against the back of her head, his height being just enough to keep her from disrupting his vision. His nearness made her tense and uncomfortable. It was like touching him made him seem more human and less idolistic. She kept telling herself it was only for a short while. Once the reached Peterny, soldiers from Kirlsa would take the dragon, giving them two lum instead to make the trek through Greeton. A dragon would be too obvious, a moving target for the likes of Greeton's technology. Getting shot out of the air by a mech corps solider would cut their mission incredibly short.

After he'd gotten her righted in the saddle, Albel refused to let her sit behind him. An argument ensued, but he'd won by selectively ignoring her and urging the dragon to take off. Not much she could do about his assertive, domineering persistence while in the air. Actually, once in the sky, she was a bit thankful for his insightfulness. He hadn't lied about the probability of falling, something she wanted to avoid at all cost.

The sun was but a half circle of light beyond the horizon. They'd reach the trading town soon, but not before night caught them. It didn't matter, they weren't that far behind schedule and Nel wasn't sure about Albel, but she was tired. The day had proved to be overwrought with excitement, more than she anticipated. Leave it to the Glyphians to make life arduous.

Albel hadn't said a word since they left Kirlsa. Conversation on a dragon was practically impossible, but she'd at least expected a few snide, contemptuous comments here and there. He'd been silent though, uttering not a word. It was hard to believe that only hours before he'd been raving like a mad man, crazed with bloodlust. He didn't seem like a lunatic. Since she'd first spoken to him, he'd only appeared to be his usual, impertinent self. There was a lack of ignoble spunk and a tightness around tired eyes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. It was odd. Nel had seen men tortured with insanity. Even in their more sane moments, those men were only fragments of their former selves. Albel was nothing like them. If anything, he seemed only haggard and weary.

Woltar's picture of a man insane with vengeance didn't fit Albel's portrait.

Grief was the cause of his madness, or so the old man had said, but Nel was skeptical, now that she'd had the opportunity to speak with Albel directly. Men stricken sick with grief were never rational, as grief was an emotion that never left a person's heart. It was always present. Always consistent. It was, or could be if a person let it, a feeling that was capable of burying a man's heart into blindness. To let his emotions run wild...Albel was stronger than that. Smarter.

Or so she'd assumed.

It wasn't any of her business, but her curiosity was piqued. The Wicked one had always been mysterious. A bit of an enigma. Common rules didn't necessarily apply to him, considering he seemed intent on operating outside any drawn lines. He was defiant and headstrong, seeing everything, including himself, as a challenge. Of course, that ultimately lead to his ability to make the simplest matters absurdly complex. Perhaps it was as Woltar said and Albel was once again working outside the means that applied only to a common man?

Peterny came into view as they soared over the final peak. The city was a shadow, the lights like bright stars against the rapidly approaching darkness. The dragon circled several times and Nel could see the vague shapes of residents and fellow travelers stop to look up. No one ran for cover, as they would have done years past. Airyglyph dragons were still not common in Aquaria, but they weren't so rare as to cause a panic in these days of peace.

Albel leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "Hang on."

Nel braced herself. Dragon landings weren't particularly frightening, but they weren't exactly smooth. Jarring better described them. The dragon would circle once and make a bobbing descent to the ground, but they were still high in the air and moving rather fast. Shouldn't they be a bit lower to land? Instinctively, Nel tightened her hold on the saddle.

Albel made a movement with his legs and the dragon practically fell out of the sky. Nel swallowed a scream, all her blood rushing to her head in a horrified surge. Her hands tightened around the gullet of the saddle until they bled white. Only when she was sure they'd crash into the ground and die, did the enormous wings flare outward, catching them in a drag and slowing them to a graceful glide. The creature touched down, taking a few running steps as momentum propelled its huge body and then stopped abruptly.

Two men came out of the shadows. One of them took hold of the reins and said something to Albel, but Nel couldn't hear him. Her heart was still drumming in her head and her hands refused to let go of the saddle. She'd ridden dragons before, but never, ever, had she experienced a landing like this one.

One of the men, an Airyglyph soldier, laughed as he looked at her. "That was quite a landing, Captain. It's been a long time since I've seen you ride like that. Have you been practicing again, sir?" They all knew how Albel felt about dragons, but before his accident, he'd been known for having a knack with the animals.

Albel leaned back against the high cantle and looked down his nose at the two men. "Fool. I don't need practice to do this," he said with a snort.

The other man laughed too and glanced at Nel. "Looks like you gave the lady quite a fright."

Albel swung out of the saddle and landed gracefully on the ground. He looked over his shoulder at Nel. "Doesn't surprise me," he growled. "Aquarians obviously lack the fortitude to endure true dragon flight."

He reached up and took Nel by the forearm, intending on helping her down. When she didn't budge, he stepped back and met her glare with one of his own. "Do you intend on sleeping up there?" he asked callously.

The two soldiers behind him laughed and Nel clenched her teeth. Were all Glyphian males such uncouth, pompous, brutes? Albel reached for her again, but she pushed his arm away, feeling a bit smug at the indignant expression he gave her. She swung her a leg over so she was sitting on the saddle sideways and then jumped off, saying a silent prayer of thanks when she didn't fall face first into the dirt.

"Whooo," Albel called, pretending to be impressed.

Nel shot him a look and turned on the chuckling soldiers. She didn't formally greet them or even ask who they were. "I expect those lum will be ready before dawn tomorrow," she stated. The two men stopped laughing and stared at her. They glanced at their captain, then back to the slim woman in front of them, as if unsure who they were supposed to answer to. Nel narrowed her eyes. "Before dawn," she said again, then turned for the gate, disappearing into the shadows.

The soldiers and Albel watched her go, then the two men turned to look at their captain with a expression of awe. Albel gave them a blank face and nodded once. "Do it," he said, then went off in the direction of his companion.

This chapter seemed loooong...I don't know why...I've actually have four more chapters in their first draft written (I got started and couldn't quit), but I've decided to make some serious revisions to a couple of them. Nel is proving to be more difficult than Albel to write...I started playing the game again just so I can take some notes and study their personalities...This is my third time through...and I'm still noticing things I didn't the first two times! What a fun game! I'd love to see an anime of it, like they did with Star Ocean 2! Till next time!