Chapter 5

Orill was mad. She was seriously ticked. Not only that, but she was wet, cold, uncomfortable, angry, and pissed. She had woken up at lunch time in a hotel and had stayed in bed, laying there for a few minutes before it hit her. Sinn had left without her. He had ditched her. She couldn't believe it. The whole act that he'd played just to make her fall asleep and get out of his way. She should have known, and yet, here she was again, following the bangaa's steps again. Oh how she hated Sinn.

The little moogle wrapped her cloak around herself tighter and sputtered a few more curse words as she kept trudging through the snow. She had been looking in Lutia Pass for a little over an hour now. She was still sore from the day before, never bothering to take Sinn's advice to go see a white mage. She was too angry at the time and now she regretted it. As the snow and cold stung her wounds she bit her lip and accidentally drew blood. She looked around for what seemed like the ninth time wondering where this amazing battle that should be taking place was. She should have found it by now, unless… She sputtered some more curses when she realized that the bangaa had told her the wrong spot of the battle. She screamed in frustration, perhaps too loud.

Orill looked up and cursed yet again. Some nearby flans had heard her scream of annoyance and now she was surrounded by at least six of them. As the judge appeared Orill managed dive away from their icy blasts and hide behind a snow bank. She tried to recall her training from her old mentor. If the weird jelly things were blue and were shooting ice she should use… She jumped up and launched a fiery ball of destruction towards the flans. The ball plowed over three of them. The flans screeched as it burned their gelatinous skin. She tried to muster another fireball, but couldn't manage it. She turned and fled for her life, but tripped over a rock and went sliding face first down a hill. Her white fur was filled with blood as she got cut again and again by the rocks that jutted out of the snow and ripped at her skin. She fell into a heap of snow, drenching it in her own blood. She managed a soft "Kupo…" as she turned towards the flans that closed in on her.

"Ho ho ho, what is this little one doing here now?" The figure asked as he picked up the tiny white moogle by her leg. The figure turned to see the flans and said "Now now, it's not nearly her time yet." The flans, though disappointed, were strangely obedient to this figure and left to go find some other poor traveler to torture.

Meanwhile in a completely different region of Ivalice, Sinn awoke to the sounds of a battle. He watched silently from his spot in the tree of Salkawood as the fight raged on beneath him. He had used trees to hide from his prey before, and even slept in them like he had done this time. Sinn's life was full times where you needed to quickly scamper up a tree. Completely hidden from his enemies Sinn watched. His sharp eyes picked up four figures battling against eight. A viera, a sniper by the looks of it, was picking out targets with ease, her shots never straying. A bangaa with a huge sword unleashing the fury of various elements accompanied with the edge of his sword to anyone that drew too close. A moogle mage blasting away at their enemies. And finally there was one last figure that Sinn knew could only be Marche. He held a blade in each hand and was the one to face off against Ciyep himself. The four were quite unlike anything Sinn had seen before, acting off of each others' warnings, working together perfectly. Ciyep was a simple criminal, no match for any of these experts.

Sinn felt his blood boil as he saw the last of Ciyep's men fall and prepared to enter the battle. Of course, it was mildly unsportsmanlike to attack while the group was just finishing and weakened, but Sinn was never one to play by the rules anyway. Besides, it was four on one he thought, the rules could step aside for this fight.

Sinn leaped down from his hiding place and walked slowly into the clearing beside the river where the group was fighting. Marche noticed him while he was binding Ciyep's hands and quickly stood up, both blades drawn and ready. Sinn smiled, this was going to be good. Marche called out to Sinn. "What do you want?" He said. Out of the corner of Sinn's eyes he saw the judge who had prepared to leave. He turned around and began to walk back towards the fight scene. He also saw the sniper on his right, loading an arrow onto her bow and the gladiator walking towards him from his left. Marche stood in the center with the moogle behind him. "I've come for the price on your head Marche." Sinn said in a low, deadly voice. "Be careful kupo, you haven't been around long enough to have heard of this one." He saw a twinkle of fear in the moogle's eyes. "Don't worry Montblanc, we can handle him." Marche said confidently. "Yessss, we'll jusssst have to sssstop him." The gladiator said.

The judge shouted out "Begin!" And with that the chaos began. The gladiator charged and swung his sword. Sinn dodged as an arc of electricity hit him from the front, sending him flying backwards into a tree. He regained his bearings and ducked as an arrow flew over his head, imbedding itself into the tree. He had to dodge two swipes from Marche next. Sinn saw his opening to attack March but it was quickly blocked as the gladiator attacked again, forcing back. He threw himself out of the way of a block of ice hurled at him by the mage which toppled the tree behind him. Sinn quickly darted up the nearest tree for a moment of peace. It was cut short, however, when an arrow flew towards him. Sinn dodged it and jumped to safety into the branches of another tree. Sinn heard a crackle of sound as a bolt of lightning struck the branch he was on. Sinn continued jumping from tree to tree, dodging the bolts of lightning and hails of arrows. He never had a second to spare. If he hesitated, he would be struck. Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible to allow the moogle to follow him, he thought. He almost immediately laughed afterwards. Yeah right, Sinn thought. He felt the adrenaline fill his body. Sinn lived for these fights, it was the only time he felt truly alive. The mage changed tactics and hurled a gigantic fireball at Sinn instead. It lit up the tree and quickly spread to the other nearby trees across the forest floor, lowering Sinn's options of safe places to leap to. Sinn was in trouble, but he didn't care. He was enjoying every minute of this battle, caught up in the excitement.

Sinn was waiting for one thing in particular to happen and when it did, Sinn's felt a small grin come across his face. The moogle cursed as he ran out of magic power. Sinn leaped to the forest floor amidst the flames and darted towards the mage named Montblanc.

As he reached him he was stopped by the bangaa, who'd been taking cover from the magical display of fireworks, but still kept close enough to interfere if Sinn attacked. The bangaa swung his blade down towards Sinn, fire lighting up the blade. Sinn grabbed it with the palms of both hands. His hands burned and bled but Sinn didn't care. He was slowly forcing the blade out of the bangaa's hands when Marche appeared out of nowhere. He had to release his hold on the blade to avoid the slashes of the two blades Marche carried. An arrow flew towards Sinn but Sinn was fast enough to catch it. He used it to stab the recovering bangaa. The bangaa hissed and backed off, leaving him and Marche circling.

Sinn tried to get to the mage behind Marche, but Marche quickly caught on. He kept the moogle to his back, shifting Montblanc's position whenever he had to move himself. Sinn was at a stalemate and he knew it. He hadn't managed to get one good hit in but neither had his opponents. They were tiring though, and Sinn was still fresh. Sinn could fight for hours without ever feeling the effects of the battle till later on. Sinn ducked a slash from Marche and managed a counter, kicking him into the river. He approached the bangaa who had recovered and was left guarding the mage. The mage's power had recovered though, and Montblanc did something Sinn didn't expect.

He held up his staff and time seemed to speed up around him, or maybe, Sinn was just moving slower. "Black magic isn't the only type I specialize in kupo!" Montblanc shouted triumphantly. Sinn took two deep gashes from the gladiator's sword before he managed to step away from a third attack. An arrow flew into Sinn's leg and Sinn fell to the ground. His only advantage, his speed, had been taken away. Sinn's blood surrounded him, as if taunting him. He was losing, failing. The whole situation angered Sinn. It filled him with rage. Sinn would not lose to these weaklings! Sinn broke free of the enchantment and charged towards the mage. The bangaa stepped in his way but Sinn just trampled him, as if he were a squirrel in front of a double-decker bus. Sinn reached the mage and grabbed the scruff of his neck and kept running. He slammed the moogle's face into a tree and then into the ground. He caught the arrow flying towards him and stuffed it into Montblanc's skull. He broke the mage's neck and tossed the bloody carcass into the river.

"Montblanc!" He heard a cry as Marche ran towards him with both blades ready to skewer Sinn. Sinn easily side stepped and stuck his leg out, tripping Marche. They were getting desperate now, and weak. Sinn thought. Sinn grabbed a blade that Marche had dropped and held it in his off hand. He kept the blade hidden, behind his back as the bangaa approached.

"Are you readysss?" The bangaa asked and brought his blade down hard, missing Sinn but hitting the tree behind him. Sinn whipped his hidden blade, slashing at the bangaa's heart. He drove the blade all the way and impaled the bangaa before the gladiator could manage to pull his own blade out of the tree. Sinn let the body drop and hid behind a nearby tree that hadn't yet caught fire to watch Marche and the sniper enter into the clearing.

Their faces looked grim as they looked at the remains, but Marche signaled the sniper to go search for Sinn. The sniper started creeping a little bit before fading off into the trees and turning completely invisible. Sinn cursed silently. He had forgotten about that skill. Sinn turned around and saw that Marche was also gone. This isn't good. Sinn thought as pulled the arrow out of his leg. He was being hunted. Sinn was no prey; he would have to turn the tables around. He looked around for something he could use to get an advantage, and saw nothing. Oh well, he thought. Sinn stepped out into the open clearing where he could no doubt be seen by the sniper and Marche.

He kept his back to the river and did something that his enemies never expected. Sinn closed his eyes. He could feel the slight breeze on his face and smell the burning brush around him. Sinn waited. For the slightest moment, Sinn heard the slight whistle of air being pushed aside as something came towards him. Sinn caught the arrow and made note of the direction it came from before dropping it. He heard the soft swish as a blade came towards him and stepped back out of the way. He heard another swish as a second attack came towards him. He caught Marche's arm and pulled him over his head, kicking him as he rolled backwards and knocking him into the water behind him. Sinn rolled back to his feet and kept his eyes closed. He knew that the sniper wouldn't be able to resist checking on Marche, especially since Sinn had his eyes closed.

The entire area was silent, lacking the singing of birds or noises of other small animals. The only sound was the crackling of the fire as it launched itself from tree to tree, covering the entire forest in flames. Sinn heard the distinct snap of a twig on his right. He turned towards it and snapped open his eyes, glimpsing the snipers figure in a tree near the side of the river before she disappeared again. He ran straight up the tree and nearly fell when an arrow flew at him, burying itself into his shoulder. But the attack had been in desperation and left the sniper vulnerable.

Sinn lunged forward and grabbed her, knocking the bow out of her hands. Sinn drew the viera close and smiled into her terrified face. "I hate archers." Sinn whispered and threw her off the tree into a small bonfire of burning bushes. Ignoring her screams, Sinn leaped to the ground to find Marche struggling to pull himself out of the river a second time.

He clocked the blond haired boy on the head and pulled him out of the river. Staring at the unconscious Marche, Sinn realized that he was a bit similar to himself. Not a true criminal by any means, but still wanted by the palace. Sinn didn't know what this boy had done, or what he was trying to do. It bothered Sinn because he couldn't understand it. However, Sinn had rules he lived by. If you don't understand it, get rid of it one of Sinn's rules. Pushing these thoughts to the edge of his mind, Sinn started dragging the boy behind him.

"Stop!" a voice shouted. All Sinn could think was: What now? As six arrows flew at him he managed a second thought. I hate archers. Sinn dived behind a tree for cover from the new enemies.