Chapter 14

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

4/22/05

Albel could hear the drumming of his heart in his ears as his gaze careened wildly. A cool layer of dampness trickled down his spine as it oozed from his skin, and with a trembling hand he reached for his katana.

That boy--that boy with the dark eyes and brunette hair--he'd seen him before. He'd seen that very same gaze staring back at him from his mother's mirror. Those eyes were his; the shape, the tilt, even the color was the same as his once was, before they changed to the wine red all Nox heirs inherited. But it wasn't just himself he saw; he was only half of a whole. The hair and eyes belonged to him, but the lips were too full and mouth not nearly as wide, and the face was too thin, cheek bones too high. Those features belonged to his dead wife.

Kaine.

His son's name pierced him like a stiletto. The screaming. He could still hear the screaming--that horrible, terrified wailing. Cries that changed, turning to ragged, piercing shrieks of pain. The sound made his heart tremble and his limbs go numb. A panic so raw, so instinctive, seized him but he was--helpless. He couldn't stop it. He could only listen. Then came the silence--a sudden, thunderous silence.

Albel covered his face with his hand, steeling himself against the memories that burned and threatened to devour him. His son was dead. The brat's life ended barely five months from the womb; there wasn't anything he could do about it now. That apparition was a trick, Romero's way of baiting him into a blind rage. The demon took him for a fool. That child specter was too old to be his son. Souls, if there were such things, did not age. Besides, his son had no reason to help him. He'd let the boy die. He was responsible for letting that child's life be snatched away before there was even a chance of living. If the roles were reversed and he was in Kaine's place, he'd want to see his killer suffer.

"Hurry."

The boy stood at the end of a narrow passage holding his ball between two small hands. His youthful gaze was steady and empty as he watched Albel peer out between splayed fingers.

"Who are you?" Albel asked in a ragged voice. He dropped his hand back to his katana and glared at the child defiantly. "What sort of game is this?"

The boy cocked his head to the left, eyes unblinking. His small mouth opened to reply but something caught his attention. A look of fear passed over his small features. "She's in trouble," he said and darted off around the corner.

"Hey! Wait!" Albel shouted, giving chase. As he turned down the next alley, the boy was already gone. The sound of pattering feet caught his attention. The footfalls were distant, yet consistent, as if they were meant for him and only him to hear. With a curse, Albel drew his sword and began to follow the sound.

Nel was silent as she followed T'nel through the labyrinth of brick and mortar walls. The hustle of the city was but a drone of ambiguity behind them now. The back streets were empty, save a stray cat and piles of disorganized, wooden boxes scattered here and there.

She'd known for quite sometime that there was no outfitter--nor was T'nel who he said he was. She followed him anyway, smiling and nodding when he happened to pass a comment her way.

He was a demon. The moment he'd asked for her name, she knew where his power lay. His voice had held a thread of quiet contemplation that probed the inner-most sanctuary of her soul; it reminded her of an itch that couldn't be scratched. When she'd looked into his eyes, she saw past the genuine smile and into the eagerness and anticipation. It took all her will not to shudder outwardly.

He wanted her name. Names held power. They were important. If he had her name, he could control her--just like the people of Plum. He was Avarice. Greed. One of Romero's lackeys.

She wasn't frightened of him. She was more disappointed at her revelation. Demons were suppose to be hideous creatures, monsters that snapped spittle down long fangs and lashed pointed tails at their enemies. An ignorant assumption her part, she supposed. Humans tended to associate evil and danger with ugly things, when in reality, death often wore a costume of beauty and grace. If all demons were as Avarice, Nel could understand how the people of Plum fell into his trap.

She thought of the burning village and the people. Avarice had preyed on their desperation and ignorance. He'd hunted them down and lured them into his net like tiny fishes. The demon had manipulated their fears, twisting them to fit his own selfish pleasure. It was all so meaningless; so pointless. All that death for what? A laugh? It made her sick.

"We've been walking for quite sometime," she said. "Is it much further?"

"Patience, m'lady," T'nel replied with a chuckle. "This trek is just a means to an end."

Nel arched a brow. How eloquently put. Apparently demons enjoyed word games. She wondered how he would react to directness. "So, did Romero send you or are you still angry we spoiled your fun back in Plum?" She spoke as if she was making friendly conversation.

T'nel stopped moving and so did Nel, except her dagger was poised at the middle of his spine. There was a brief pause before the demon cast a slight smile over his shoulder. "I'm impressed," he said. "Though you should know that little knife of yours won't do much good on me."

Nel returned his smile with a grim one of her own. She pressed the blade, piercing his clothes. His back bowed as the tip struck his skin and his smile wilted around the edges. "Maybe not," Nel said, "but you don't seem to be too eager to test that theory yourself. I'd wager you demons feel pain and fear just like the rest of us…Avarice."

A tick leapt along Avarice's jaw. He scowled openly, lip curling into a snarl. "Stupid mortal. I thrive on pain and fear." He was fast, his movements almost a blur as he ducked away from Nel's knife and spun on her. His waxy hand caught her wrist in a crushing grip, wrenching her off balance.

Nel was quick too. Using her momentum, she moved into him, instead of away. Startled, Avarice was caught off guard and she clipped him with a kick to the knee that brought him to the ground. In an instant, she had a second knife poised centimeters from a startled eye.

Emotionless, Nel gazed down at the creature. "How disappointing," she said. "I expected more from the monsters that brought down Albel the Wicked."

Anger rolled across Avarice's face, but vanished as quickly as it appeared. His smiled returned, lop-sided and quirky. "You are a wonderful catch," he said. "A temper as fiery as that beautiful hair of yours. I can see why that fool Albel is taken with you. Quite the improvement from that simpering wench he had before."

Nel felt her lips tighten, but she remained stoic. She wouldn't be baited into playing his game. "What do you want with Albel?"

Avarice blinked at her, his long lashes brushing the tip of the dagger. "Albel? Who said I was sent here for that barbarian?" His eyes met hers and Nel shuddered at the excitement that danced in them.

"You're not here for him?"

The demon started to shake his head, but glanced at the dagger and settled for a shrug instead. "Romero said I could have you, since you helped that animal steal my last prize."

"Gave me to…" Nel swallowed, biting back the vile revulsion crawling across her skin. "I don't belong to anyone. Not you. Not Albel. I'm not a prize."

Avarice widened his eyes, looking offended. "That's untrue! You're not as dainty and delicate as the Nox woman, but that fire in your eyes, that temper…." His expression turned thoughtful as Nel gaped at him. "I like a woman who fights back, who enjoys a litt--a lot--of pain." He giggled; closing his eyes as if chasing some twisted daydream. "Alas, they are so hard to come by these days."

"That woman," she whispered. "The one in Plum…"

"Not my best work. A poor replica of the original. I didn't have much time to prepare, once I learned who it was who interrupted my fun, you see." He gave her a gallic shrug. "It served its purpose, I think."

"The original?" You mean…" Nel could feel the horror creeping across her face.

His aloofness faded, revealing the eyes of a keen and deadly predator. His smile stretched across his creamy complexion and a pale pink tongue ran slowly across a pair of dainty fangs. "Lady Nox was a masterpiece," he said, a shiver running over his body. "Her cries were a melodious orchestra. Passionate! Vibrant! Complex! I plucked her body like a harp, tuning it to my own melody." Avarice released a trembling sigh, his eyes sliding shut in memory. "So beautiful. Sadly, she was too delicate of an instrument. She couldn't bear the strain of such a…vigorous song. Shame on Sir Nox for neglecting her so…"

She gazed at him, feeling strangely empty inside. "You…you raped and mutilated her," Nel said, her voice sounding oddly calm. The world seemed to fade behind her as if she was hearing things through a filter of white noise.

"We did--many times," Avarice replied, his grin widening. He ticked a brow at her. "Ask Sir Nox. He was there."

Nel wasn't certain what happened next. Her body seemed to move on its own; her consciousness somewhere else, watching from afar. She drove her knife into the demon's eye, burying it to the hilt. He screamed and pitched backwards, dragging her with him by the grip he still had on her wrist. Nel followed willingly, riding his body into the ground. She heard the bones in her hand break as he crushed them, but there was no pain. Just a hum, a buzz of steady, calm fury.

Fury for all those people. For that woman in Plum. For Albel's wife…and for Albel.

Straddling Avarice, she pulled the knife from his eye and plunged it home a second time. He wasn't dying, just screaming, but for some reason, she wasn't concerned. She wanted him to suffer. She wanted his pain. The longer the better. Her thoughts were irrational and selfish, even dangerous, but none of that mattered to her.

"Bleed," she hissed at him, rearing back for a third blow.

Avarice let go of her other wrist, his shock at her sudden attack gone. He shielded his face with one hand while grappling for her with the other. Nel cut through his palm, pinning his hand to the gaping socket of his eye, her face a picture of terrible peacefulness. She was torn off of him by her hair, his strength enormous, but by the time he'd gotten to his feet, she had already recovered and had another weapon in her good hand.

There was the sound of metal on bone as Avarice reached up and pulled the dagger from his face, freeing his other hand. The blade clattered to the cobbled street and Avarice smiled. "Beautiful!" he said, extending his arms in praise. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me. No more toying, you must be mine…Karina Zelpher." A haughty smirk shined though his bloodied face and he opened his arms as if to welcome her.

Nel fixed him in a detached stare. "You offer assistance in exchange for a name. That is how your power works. Once a person accepts your help and gives you their name freely, they…belong…to you." She paused, watching a look of uncertainly pass across the demon's face. "It seems you cannot tell a false name from a true one. That--is not my name."

Avarice opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, his face crumpled into a gory scowl of hate. "Bitch," he snarled, baring his teeth at her.

Nel shrugged, her eyes never leaving his. "I know your power. I know you can bleed and feel pain. I bet you can die too. Your greed made you careless, Avarice." She lifted her good hand, steadying the weapon she held.

"You? Kill me?" Avarice laughed. "Not as easy as you think, human." He spat at her and then wiped the rivulets of blood across his face. "You'll need more than a puny knife to do me in."

Nel felt her lips twist into a thin, contemplative smile. There was no fear; nothing but calmness. Somewhere inside she knew she was angry, but her body felt numb, dead. "Who said I'm going to use a knife?"

Avarice glanced at her hand and his good eye opened wide. He took a stumbling step backwards, fear pacing his mangled features. "You…you'll be killed too," he said.

Nel just smiled. "We'll see," she said.

An explosion cracked along the mountain-side and a plume of debris launched high into the sky above Tup'ni. For a moment, the steady drone of commerce fell silent; then the city erupted into a frenzied panic. Everywhere people began screaming and running for their homes. Merchants, always astute to their wares, hastily began to close up shop and travelers with no place to go ran for the nearest house, kicking down doors and breaking windows, trying to find a safe place to hide. A few brave townsmen took up arms, preparing themselves to die defending their city--though no one seemed to be in any hurry to investigate the disturbance.

Albel was making his way though the maze of back-allies when a gust of rock and dust rocketed out of one of the adjoining cross-roads. He leapt back, skidding to a halt, nearly skewered by splinters of wooden shrapnel. When the rain of stones and wood began to fall, he threw his gauntlet over his head to protect himself.

"Shit," he hissed, squinting against the grainy air. Through the haze he could see the faint shimmer of the boy child standing at the apex of the narrow street. He was frowning, his small features a mixture of what Albel thought might be confusion and irritation.

"What the hell was that?" Albel asked.

The boy remained motionless, staring down the corridor. "She's still alive," he said, his voice bordering between wonderment and curiosity.

Albel's pulse leapt. He started to ask, "who", but he already knew the answer. Zelpher was in trouble. "Damn that woman," he said under his breath. She was always taking on more than she could handle. He didn't care if she was the Crimson Blade; she was still a woman and there were certain limitations that women had that men didn't. The fool Aquarian was just too stubborn to admit it.

He thought nothing as he swept past the mysterious child, not even sparing the boy a glance; his body seemed pulled by a string, his footsteps hasty, his heart pounding. The dust in the air sucked the moisture from his throat and left the foul taste of dirt in his mouth. He had to squint against the grit scratching his eyes, which began to water profusely. Everywhere there lay chunks of brick and rock. Boxes used for merchant transport and storage were shattered into pieces of kindling. At least six buildings were gutted; the furthest to the end was on fire, the stench of smoke mingling with the grime in the air.

Amidst the haze, he could see a pale arm streaked with blood pushing out of the rubble. A few moments later, Nel heaved herself from the debris, coughing and staggering to her feet. One arm hung limply at her side, while the other fumbled inside her clothes to produce a dagger, but the weapon tumbled from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

"Zelpher," Albel said, his own voice sounding like an echo in his head. She was hurt, wounded more so than he'd ever seen her, but it was the look of determination, of hatred, on her face that took him aback. He watched as she bent over, her movements pained and slow, to pick up her dropped weapon. When she started to fall, he moved forward and caught her by her uninjured arm, hauling her back to her feet. She looked up at him, her eyes unfocused and pupils dilated. Her mouth opened to speak, but instead, her legs buckled and she swayed, falling into him.

Albel caught her instinctively, but stiffened when her head fell against his shoulder. He stood, breath trapped in his chest, holding the fallen woman as if she was some strange beast. Somehow, he managed to regain his composure and lower them to the ground, careful to keep Nel's head cradled against the shoulder of his gauntlet.

"Nox," Nel whispered, her eyes fluttering open. She tried to sit up, struggling against him, but Albel tightened his grip.

"Stupid woman," he muttered. "What the hell did you do?" He stared down at her filthy face, his brow drawn into a tight frown.

Nel's eyes drifted closed for a moment. "Demon," she said in a voice so low that Albel had to lean over her to hear. "Avarice…Molotov…R1..." She coughed and started to sit up again, but Albel shook his head.

"Avarice?" he asked, keeping his voice even. He felt a spark of fury race through his body, but he managed to reign in his anger, tucking it away in that corner of his brain that seethed with contained rage. He'd expected an affront, but not so soon. "You used a Molotov on Avarice?"

Nel managed a frown. "Is…he dead?"

Albel blinked at her. He was more surprised she'd fought one of Romero's right hand men and survived; he hadn't even thought about the demon being injured. He doubted it, but didn't say so. Demons were like cockroaches. "I don't know," he said. "I don't see him."

Nel's frown deepened and she pushed at his arm. "No," Nel coughed, wincing in pain. "He was here…bleeding…cut out his eye."

Albel's brows arched high. "You did what?" he asked incredulously.

Nel opened her eyes and mustered up the effort to scowl at him. "He's hurt too…I know it."

Albel gave the small woman a long look. Where did she get her strength--her will to keep fighting? He'd never met another woman like her, and he couldn't decide if she was just stupidly stubborn or courageous. He shook his head slightly and sighed. "Just...be quiet. Your arm is broken," he said. "I think you did something to your head too."

He picked Nel up, ignoring her protests, and moved her away from the blast site. He propped her up against one of the far walls and checked her injuries. Her arm and wrist were broken, and he was fairly certain she had a concussion, but the rest of her wounds were mostly minor bumps and scrapes. She would live--unless he lost his temper with her and killed her himself. He wanted to yell at her, tell her what an idiot he thought she was, but for some reason the words just wouldn't come. He didn't think she would hear him anyway; she was struggling just to stay concious. Her wounds weren't life threatening, but she wouldn't be able to heal them herself any time soon. That was troublesome, considering he knew no spells and had no more medicines.

One problem at a time.

Leaving Nel, Albel stood and unsheathed his sword. He doubted Avarice was still present, but he felt compelled to check anyway. Cautiously, he picked his way through the rubble, kicking over planks of wood and nudging large piles of rock with the scabbard of his sword. Smoke was beginning to billow out of the burning building near the end of the street and Albel had to cover his mouth with his arm.

Slowly, he made his way across the explosion site, peering into the destroyed buildings. When he reached the last building, a workshop, he stopped and gazed at the glowing flames eating along the thatched roof. Through the black smoke he could see the fire licking the hardwood floor and beating against the wooden cabinets. Carefully, he stepped inside, staying close to the opening in the wall.

Just beyond the corner, bent awkwardly between two heavy stools, he saw Avarice. The body, or what was left of it, was beginning to burn, the rich clothes melting into skin. All that remained of the demon was his upper torso; everything at the hips had been blown away. One arm was missing, the other badly mangled and riddled with slivers of wood and glass. His face was frozen in a state of shock, one empty eye socket steaming as his body began to cook.

Albel stared at the creature, struggling to find a dominate emotion. Part of him wanted to hack the corpse to pieces, but somehow, this fate seemed more suiting. Another part of him was angry--angry that it hadn't been himself that had dealt the killing blow. The Aquarian had done a much better job at defending herself than he had; she'd even managed to kill one of Romero's main henchmen. And what had he done? Bled and shivered on the floor like a coward while his family was butchered.

The irony was almost funny, but Albel wasn't laughing.

Avarice was dead. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a sense of satisfaction, regardless of who had killed him. He spat on the ground, watching the spittle sizzle in the flames. "Burn in hell," he said.

"So she really did kill him."

Albel jumped and spun around. The odd boy stood several feet from him, watching the flames consume the body of Avarice. His face was neutral, save the barest hint of a frown at the corners of his lips. "This was unexpected," he said, his small voice holding a inkling of annoyance.

Albel swung his sword around and pointed at the child. "Who are you?" he growled.

The boy shrugged and turned his eyes to Albel. "Just a curious observer."

"You're no child," Albel said, pacing forward.

The boy smiled slightly. "I am what you wish me to be."

"I want you to be gone," he snarled, baring his teeth. He swung his blade at the whelp, cutting nothing but air. The child had vanished--again.

"You have a foul temper."

Albel pivoted, eyes widening as the boy appeared behind him near the open wall. The child gave a slight laugh and gestured in the direction of Nel. "You have more important things to be concerned about, don't you?" Then he was gone, leaving Albel alone with the stink of burning hair and flesh.

Sorry for the loooong delay. I've been busy and cranky…I don't write well when I'm irritated (as you can see). I did some avatar creation for as a peace offering--they're pretty crappy though (link in my bio). Anyway-- this chapter took a very different direction than I expected. I'm not very happy with it, so don't be surprised if you see a rewrite of it in the near future (no major changes, just edits). Oh, yes I know you can teach Albel healing spells, but for the sake of this fic, he doesn't know any. Thanks once again for reading, and I really appreciate the patience you all have. Take care!