Chapter 8

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

2/18/05

I hope the formatting works this time...FF has given me the worst trouble lately. If errors occur in the upload, check back later. I'll fix them ASAP!

Nel pretended to be asleep when she heard Albel stir from his bed. There was still an hour or two until dawn, well before the time they were suppose to leave. She listened to the soft rustling of fabric and tinkling of buckles as he dressed, and only when the door clicked shut, did she sit up and gaze at the darkness pressing against the window.

Apris, was she ever tired. Neither she nor Albel had gone back to sleep. They'd lain in their beds like scared little children, counting the hours and watching the shadows creep across the room. The nervous energy radiating from Albel's corner had been enough to suffocate her, making her jumpy and restless. She felt compelled to watch over him, not for her own safety, but for his. Absurd, she knew, but for some reason she couldn't help but feel an ache of compassion for the lone solider.

Albel was intrepid when it came to fighting his own battles alone and Nel could admire that. What she couldn't respect was the stubbornness that blinded him when he was in over his head. There were some battles that couldn't be fought solo, no matter how strong or courageous a person was. It wasn't a matter of being weak or undisciplined, but rather a matter of circumstance. Not everyone fought fair. Not everyone was honorable. Some people would do whatever was within their means to win. Obviously, Romero was one of these beings.

Any petition for help in Albel's eyes was a sign of desperation and debility. His world was black and white, with very little grey area, especially when it came to people. A person was either strong or weak, good or evil, ally or foe. The idea that people could be both perplexed him and what he couldn't understand, he dismissed as foolery. He was smart, but his ideals were like a concrete brick inside his head and nothing but a blow between the eyes would make him see anything differently.

Nel wasn't about to revolutionize him, but she could keep an eye on him in her own way. It wasn't her job, but she did feel a bit responsible for him considering he was being forced to help her. What kind of 'proposition' did Woltar offer him anyway? It wasn't like Albel to do what he didn't want to do. It wasn't any of her business, so she wouldn't be asking him. Whatever it was, she had a sneaking suspicion that Albel was getting the short end of the deal, so to speak.

Nel yawned and rubbed her eyes. If she laid in bed much longer, she'd either grow mold or get bed sores. No sense in lingering.

She stood up and lit the small oil lamp sitting on the nightstand, stretching her arms wide and curling her toes. Her head felt foggy, like a thick sludge sloshing around her skull and her limbs were like leadened rods.

It was going to be a loooong day.

She glanced at the bed Albel had used and noticed the dark splashes of ruddy brown across the sheets and on his pillow. He'd cut himself pretty badly, but he hadn't seemed too concerned about it. Occupational hazard, maybe? It probably wasn't the first time he'd nicked himself with those claws. Still, she'd ask him again if he'd let her look at the wound just to be on the safe side. Getting a fever or worse from infection wouldn't benefit either of them now.

Downstairs, Nel greeted the day shift clerk and turned in the key. She declined the offer of tea and pastries and turned to leave, but the young woman called her back to the desk. "Lady Nel, a young man left this message for you." The clerk held out a carefully folded piece of parchment.

Nel gave her a quizzical look, hiding sudden spurt of disappointment she was feeling. She took the note, knowing who it was from, and wondered if Albel had taken her words to heart last night. Did he abandon the mission and head home, like she'd suggested?

She opened the parchment, a small smirk curling her lips as she scanned the flowing, archaic handwriting. Who'd have guessed Albel Nox held a talent for classical penmanship. It made her chuckle as she read:

I've seen to the lum and supplies.

Meet me at the gate.

A.N

Nel frowned. How efficient of him. She glanced out the open door of the lobby, noting the rich blue of a sky barely touched by the first hint of dawn. How the hell had he gotten supplies so early? A million ideas went through her head at once and she suddenly felt compelled to hurry. She thanked the clerk and sped off in the direction of the east gate.

Peterny was mostly asleep. There were a few travelers milling about the city center, drinking hot cider and taking inventory of their goods, but the shops had yet to open for the day. She passed the Gigantodrive Eatery, weaving through the tables with their upturned chairs, and jogged up the dais to the eastern archway. As she hurried down the narrow street, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, keeping her eyes alert for ruffians and thieves. East Peterny was notorious for its gangs and criminals. Not that they were of much concern to her, but she'd rather not draw any attention to herself.

Albel was leaning against a light pole, his arms crossed and eyes closed. He wore a dark grey, woolen cloak with tan and black trim over his clothes. It was specially crafted so the right side could be pinned and draped over the shoulder, leaving his sword hand free. The left side was longer, hiding his mechanical limb inside yards of fabric, but still loose enough not to mar the drawing of The Crimson Scourge. He was still in all black, but he'd added a black glove to his good hand and a steel wrist guard.

He was an ominous presence, unconcerned of the thugs that watched him from the ally across the way. In fact, they seemed to watch him with the trepidation of a predator milling about small animals.

When Nel approached he cracked an eye open. "About time," he remarked in his usual thick voice.

Nel nodded a greeting to the gate sentry and glanced at her companion. "How did you get the supplies so early?"

A smirk spread across Albel's lips and he shoved away from the pole. "Persuasive tactics," he stated, waving his taloned hand in the air as if it were nothing.

Nel knew better. Being persuasive in Albel's world meant rattling the doors of some poor merchant and threatening them at sword point...or claw point...which ever was more convenient. She sighed, deciding to ignore it for the time being. Later she'd try to instruct him on the guiles of tactfulness and subtleties.

She glanced at his smug face. Then again, she'd probably be wasting her breath.

The sentry opened a smaller door that sat inside the much larger gate. Dust and bits of grit fell to the ground as the old wood creaked outward. No one had been through it in months. Trouble with Greeton in the past years kept the passage way to the trading town barred shut. Without proper papers and credentials, no one was to get through without the queens permission. Of course, most travelers desperate enough to make the journey from the continent of Greeton to Gait often chose to pass through Aquios first. It was easier to petition the queen directly than wait outside Peterny for a customs agent to come check their paperwork.

"Where are the lum?" she asked, glancing back down the street.

Albel jerked his head in the direction of the gate. "Out there...waiting," he replied, as if it was the dumbest question in the world. When Nel continued to stare at him, he scowled and rolled his eyes. "There is another gate near the paddocks. I assumed you knew that, being you are a native to this land and all."

"Well, I didn't."

Albel shook his head and strode though the open door. "Fool," he muttered as he passed by.

Nel fought the urge to trip him. She took a deep breath and followed after him.

Outside the boundary of Peterny, Nel noticed the passage to Greeton wasn't much different than the Fields of Irisa or Palmira Plains. The land was lush and staggered with flowering trees of some sort. Large bees hovered from bloom to bloom, collecting pollen to take back to their hive in the nearby forests. Blackberry bushes grew alongside a small stream that was almost hidden beneath thick stands of milkweed and goldenrod. There was a stone path, which she assumed was the main road, covered with moss and lichens.

Overall, it was a beautiful area, but Nel knew it wouldn't last. The continent of Greeton was known for its harsh climates and rugged mountains. And where there were not peaks, there were deserts and chain upon chain of islands. She pointed to the high peaks off in the distance. "Beyond that mountain range is the township of Plum. It'll take us at least two days to get there, but it's our first check point."

"Plum? Like the fruit?" Albel asked. Nel looked back at him and nodded. "What a stupid name for a city," he said, frowning in disgust.

Nel tried not to smile. Occasionally, Albel's candid observations were amusing, but it was rare. This time, Nel was inclined to agree with him, another miraculous achievement indeed. She cleared her throat, coughing into her hand, which earned her an inquisitive look from her sullen companion. "Yes, well...we don't have to live there," she replied, pulling a map from the inside pocked of her short jacket. "We just have to stay there a night."

"Why? The ground will suit me fine for a few days."

Nel opened the map and pointed. Albel stepped closer, peering down over her shoulder, so near the hem of his cloak touched her. "Because, it makes more sense to stay there and prepare for the next leg of the journey." She drew her finger over a blue line, following their route. "What comes next will most likely be the harshest travel of the mission. I estimate it'll take us at least four days to pass through the Rebyc Plains. That area is arid, the ground mostly sand and temperatures that reach over ninety degrees by midmorning and top out late afternoon over a hundred and ten. There are no settlements to rest or resupply at until we reach the next mountain range."

Albel studied the map in her hand, his sharp eyes following the route carefully. "It would make more sense to rest during the day and travel at night. Moving in that heat would only fatigue us and the lum. We'd be easy prey."

Nel glanced back at her companion, trying not to look too surprised. Albel was an accomplished solider, a Captain of his own unit. It was easy to forget that like her, he was a professional when it came to infiltration tactics and such. She nodded slowly. "Yes, I agree. Once we get past the desert, we'll stop here to rest, resupply, and gather information." She pointed to a larger red dot on the map.

"Mota," Albel read.

"Yes. It's the largest human city in this portion of Greeton. It'll be important to keep a low profile while we're there," Nel replied.

"Then it's not the capital?"

Nel shook her head. "No. Mota is a city of humans. In this country...or rather, on this continent, humans are not an influential force. In fact, they are usually peasant or merchant class. Greeton is under the rule of Rock Folk, who have built their capital here." She motioned to a large circled area that sat off the coast of a large island. "Citobor is where we believe Fayt is being held."

"It's on an island."

"Yes. We'll have to take a boat to get there."

"A...boat?" Albel questioned, a deep line forming in his brow.

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

Albel shook his head, but there was a worried slant to his eyes. "Of course not," he growled, but then muttered under his breath, "...a boat."

Nel arched a brow at him, placing a hand on her hip. "You can swim, can't you?"

The look she received was supercilious. "Well enough," he grumbled, flexing his mechanical arm at his side as if thinking about something unpleasant. "Swimming...isn't a popular past time in Airyglyph."

Nel didn't suppose it would be. Most of the water in that country was of the frozen sort, and that that wasn't was cold enough to freeze a man to the bone. In the warmer parts of Airyglyph, drought had dried up much of the water and what was left was often unsafe to swim in. Of course, Nel suspected that part of Albel's apprehension wasn't his lack of practice, but the fact that swimming with that heavy arm of his could be dangerous, especially if the water was deep. Drowning was a very real possibility if he happened to fall over board on the way to Citobor.

Nel gave him a wry smile. "Well, we can always tie a rope around your waist."

That earned her an angry glare. "Shut up, you idiot," he snapped, grabbing the map from her hand and studying it a bit too intently. "Infiltrating the capital will be difficult. They'll have mechanical weapons and that cursed mech corps..." He continued to mutter to himself, recalling his little knowledge of Greeton's military and weaponry.

"How do you know all that?" Nel asked, surprised.

He looked up, his cool eyes meeting hers. "Fool, everyone knows that," he growled. "Besides, where do you think this arm comes from?" He held the mechanical limb out for her to see, flexing his talons.

Nel's eyes opened wide. "Your arm? It came from Greeton?" His arm was an advanced piece of technology, but she'd always assumed it utilized some sort of runology to mobilize it.

Albel shook his head. "Not exactly. The original, my first arm, was made in Airyglyph by a family of Greetonites who came to live among us many, many years ago. Before you, I, or even our parents were born. The men have worked for our military for over a century in exchange for amnesty from Greeton. Most of their great technology was lost decades ago, but after the...incident, Woltar and my mother petitioned Hanti, the engineer at the time to...help me...He created the gauntlet and since then, the blue prints were made available to everyone who wishes to use them." He looked away from Nel, frowning so hard she thought his face might crack.

"But how...?" Nel let her question die. It was too personal, even though her curiosity was aching to know.

"How does it work?" He gave a harsh burst of laughter and cast an ugly sneer. "I'm not certain myself, but the initial operation was quite painful."

"Operation?"

Albel nodded, shifting from one foot to another. "Yes. Hanti was an amazing mechanic but no doctor. We happened to discover a physician from Greeton capable of astounding surgeries using technology and runology. He made it so the device was melded with my nerves, allowing movement like any other limb." He touched the oddly shaped metal joints that connected his upper arm to his forearm. "Also, I can change a gauntlet at will, but it requires some adjustments which can be…bothersome." Downright agonizing was more like it, but the Aquarian didn't need to know such things.

"That's fascinating," Nel breathed, looking at the gauntlet with a new respect. So it wasn't just a weapon he wore. It was his arm, a part of his body. "I had no idea Airyglyph had such a doctor…"

Albel shook his head. "We don't. He passed away several months after the surgery was complete. No one knows how he managed it. He left no notes, nothing."

"That's a shame. Such knowledge could save countless lives," Nel thought out loud.

Albel shrugged. He didn't bother to tell her the procedure nearly killed him. The pain of the operation alone was enough to send him into shock, but it was the repeated infections and constant rejection of the biomechanical parts bolted to his bones and joints by steel rods that had left Woltar and the king fearful for his life. After the doctor died, there'd been nothing for them to do but wait out the healing process and hope for the best. Luckily, Albel had managed to prevail and slowly his natural body accepted the foreign pieces as a part of the whole.

Even still, his recovery hadn't been the end of his troubles. His new arm required repeated measurements and frequent adjustments as he grew, which Hanti took upon himself. The accident occurred at the height of Albel's growth spurts, and as a boy, he came to dread the phases of puberty with a newfound horror. Adjustments required loosening the pins that held the mechanical joints into place. Pins that were drilled into his bones and through muscle.

Somehow he managed to endure the agony of those adolescent years. Passing out had helped, but not once did he scream or cry out. By his 21st birthday, the measurements of his arm hadn't changed and he'd never been so thankful for anything in his life.

Nel took the map out of his hands and looked it over once more. "So we can expect mechanical weapons, possibly runological ones too, or a mixture of both." She frowned slightly. "I hadn't expected that."

"Bah," Albel growled, "we've faced machines far more advanced than anything Greeton can come up with."

Nel gave him a thoughtful look. He had a point, but there'd been others helping them at the time. They'd have to improvise, one of the reasons why the mission was based more on stealth than force.

Nel folded the paper back up and slipped it inside her jacket. She looked at her dark companion and nodded her head at the nearby lum. "Shall we get going?"

"Hn," he replied.

Riding a Glyphian lum wasn't the same as riding an Aquarian one. Glyphian lum were choleric and sordid, more apt to kick and bite than let someone ride them. A few Aquarian lum were that way, usually studs or well bred brood mares, but rarely did they attack with the intent to kill. It seemed to Nel that that was all these particular lum ever thought about.

"What's the matter with you?" Albel had shouted at her when she tried to mount the shaggy creature and the beast dragged her in a crazy circle outside the gate. "It's just a dumb beast!" He'd stalked over, grabbed the reins, and socked the animal between the eyes with a metal fist. Everyone was stunned, especially the lum, who stood quietly when Nel climbed aboard.

Only after Albel was safely on his own mount, did Nel's lum decide it was safe to misbehave again. The bucking wasn't so bad, but when the equine decided to take off at a dead run, sprinting past Albel and his steed like they were standing still, Nel began to wonder if she'd survive the trek to the mountains.

Glyphian lum were strong. They were larger, more muscular, and immensely more powerful than anything Aquaria had in their stables. These animals were bred for warfare, and only a select few knights were chosen to ride them. Supposedly, the lum she and Albel acquired were the most docile, used to various riders and missions that weren't of the "aggressive" nature.

Nel was hardly convinced.

She stood in her stirrups the minute he bolted, putting all her weight into the balls of her feet and pulling on the reins so hard she thought her biceps would burst. However, her lum pulled back, taking the bit between his teeth and pointing his nose skyward. She was outmatched, his huge neck muscles overpowering her by leaps and bounds.

Out of desperation, she tried to crank his head around to slow him down, but he didn't seem to care if he saw where he was going or not. Nel was along for the ride. Either she'd fall off first or he'd tire himself out. Of course, there was also the possibility he would stumble in some godforsaken hole and send them both crashing to the ground at break-neck speed.

Not good.

Well, if she could postpone the inevitable and pray for a miracle, so be it. Nel hunkered down over the animal's neck, grabbing a fistful of shaggy hair and the saddle horn, squeezing so tightly her hands hurt. What was it with Glyphian animals trying to kill her? First the dragon, now the lum. If she made it out of this mission in one piece, she'd never-ever-go near another Glyphian creature in her entire life. By all things holy…

The sound of thundering hooves behind her made her turn her head slightly. Albel was riding hard, his lum flat to the ground, bearing down on them at an incredible speed. His cloak whipped behind him like a pair of sooty gray wings, his hair flying streamers of white and brown. He looked like a terrifying dark angel in his black attire and glinting armor. Nel wasn't sure if she should make the lum run faster or wait for him to help her.

Albel's lum swung wide, arcing around hers. For a moment, Nel though he meant to ram them and her heart jumped into her throat. Instead, he cut in close, leaning over so far she thought he'd be torn from his saddle, and snagged a rein.

Nel's lum leapt to the side, seeing Albel's hand close in. Both beasts slowed, but with Albel's hold on the leather rein, the equine's head snapped around and incidentally, its whole body followed, nearly yanking Albel from his seat. Nel couldn't hold on. The momentum sent her sailing off the side and through the air where she landed on the ground and rolled across the tall grasses.

Nel lay in the field, flat on her back. All the wind had been knocked from her lungs. Was she dead? She didn't feel dead. Nothing seemed to hurt on her body, as she expected. Her toes could move and she could hear her heart thrumming inside her ears. That was a good sign.

A shadow fell over her and she dared to open an eye. Albel was peering down at her with the most bewildered look on his face. He seemed to be undecided as to whether he should be angry with her or laughing at her. It was almost comical. When she opened both her eyes to stare back up at him, he simply said, "Fool," and offered her a hand.

Nel took a deep breath and replied dryly, "Well, look at it this way. We traveled about four miles in two and half minutes." The corner of Albel's mouth twitched and finally twisted into a wry smirk.

He suddenly laughed at her, but Nel didn't care. She felt a small smile of her own tug at her lips. It was sort of funny, in a warped, demented kind of way. She could have died, but instead, she was okay. Nothing was broken, just a bit bruised and scuffed. "You looked like an idiot," Albel sniggered, hoisting her up by her arm.

"I'm glad my near death experience amused you," she replied sourly, brushing off her backside.

"Oh, it did," he grinned. "Very much indeed."

Nel gave him a dirty look and took off her jacket, shaking the dirt and leaves from it. Her back and shoulder were starting to ache a bit, and her thigh had a massive raspberry burn that stung like the dickens. There'd be more bruises, that she was sure of, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle.

"Now what?" Albel asked, holding the reins of her lum. His humor was gone, as if someone flicked it off with a switch. He watched her with a condescending frown, wondering what she would do next.

"I get back on and we go," Nel replied in a flat tone.

Albel's eyes widened a bit. "You're going to ride again?" He wasn't sure if he'd heard her right.

Nel frowned. "You don't expect me to walk, do you? Besides, we have a schedule to keep." She walked to her mount…stiffly.

Albel shook his head slightly. "He'll do it again. You're not strong enough to take control. He knows that now."

Nel eyed the lum, who watched her with glassy black eyes. "We'll see about that. If he acts up again, we'll find out how he likes a good dose of shock therapy for that attitude of his."

"Oh, as if that'll help. You'll only anger him that way, woman," Albel growled. "If you keep falling off, we'll never get anywhere."

"Well what do you suggest?" Nel snapped, her cheeks reddening with anger. She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him expectantly.

Her waning coolness seemed to catch him off guard. He blinked at her a few times, his face expressionless. After a few moments of silence he scowled, doing what he did best by reacting to anger with anger. "I was going to suggest that I lead you if we plan on getting anywhere today. But, if you're intent on getting yourself killed, so be it." He held the reins out for her to take, staring at her with cold, dark eyes.

Heat rushed to Nel's face. The malicious bastard had her conveniently trapped. She knew couldn't control the lum herself. She lacked the upper body strength and weight. Albel was just waiting for her to admit it. Admit that she was too weak and needed his help. The worst part was he was absolutely right.

Pride was a heady thing, but now wasn't the time. Nel inhaled sharply, trying to calm her wounded ego. "Fine," she snapped at him.

"Fine?"

"Do you need me to spell it out for you, Nox?" She bared her teeth at him in an unfriendly grimace. "You lead."

Albel raised his brows and smirked. "So be it," her replied, holding her animal still while she remounted. "Make sure to hold on this time."

Poor Nel. I really didn't mean to torment her so much. As for Albel's gauntlet, I sort of went with the FMA theory of "Automail". I also wanted Albel to be familiar with Greeton, so Nel wouldn't have all the knowledge, so it worked here. Poor Fayt too…I hope he's okay…ha ha! We'll get to him later…he'll just have to sit in Greeton for awhile longer…