Disclaimer: I still don't own drakengard
Author Notes: And a slightly longer chapter. The next one should be sometime this week.
Chapter Four
Violet Angel or Demon in disguse?
His name was Tybalt, he carried no last name, or atleast never told anyone what it was. He was young, but strong. And he followed orders without questioning them. He never backed down when the others in the platoon did, even when they were outnumbered.
But he never ignored the order to fall back when it was given.
He was a good soldier. He followed orders. He killed the enemy.
In his own way, he had a code of honor, it wasn't that he liked killing. It was just that he understood if these terrors weren't taken care of, they would kill more and more, untill there were no humans left anywhere. So he relentlessly made them have to pay for each attempt they tried for human life.
So he thought, this was why his comrads were dead, and he was not. The battle had been long and gruesom. The stench of death and rotting corpses of men and beast filled the air. Tybalt didn't know if any of his fellow soldiers were left alive, or even if they still fought.
Though he didn't care. Maybe it was best he died at the hands of the enemy, instead of retreating this time. Atleast in death he would know he had taken some of their numbers down with him when he died.
His two swords flashed in the dawn light that started to edge over the horizon, announcing that soon morning would be here. Usually the terrors fled the rays of that giant yellow orb. But this day they did not. So Tybalt fought all the harder.
Slash! A scream of pain and some red eyed thing fell to the ground. Crack! A swordblade struck bone and an attachment to another shadow was hacked away, leaving it to moan in pain and fall back. But for each shadow thing dealt with, ten more filled its place. Leaving Tybalt painfully outnumbered.
Even if he didn't want to show it, Tybalt was growing worn and tired from this battle. His breath came in and out raggedly as his arms and legs strained to move as he wanted them too. His armor was dented badly over his chest, and the helmet was long gone, forcing Tybalt to use one sword to almost constantly block attacks aimed at for his head.
He didn't know the enemy had gotten behind him, slipped past when he had been focused on attacking one of the now dead shadow things on the ground, so he didn't see the attack untill he saw the mockery of a sword tip erupting from his chest.
Tybalt could only stare in shock as the sword stayed where it was, and wasn't aware of the other points of steel cutting past his abused armor and digging into his flesh. In seconds, they lost interest in the stabbed human and dropped their holds on the swords. Tybalt could do nothing to halt his fall, and nothing he tried seemed to catch his breath as he lay akwardly on his side, gaping like a fish while bleeding continusly from his wounds.
He wasn't afraid to die, Tybalt just didn't want to die like this, he had thought he'd be able to take down more. But he had failed in doing so, and the swarm of black things marched on, parting around him like some foul thing to avoid stepping into. Not knowing wether to be insulted or thankfull for them avoiding him, Tybalt struggled valiantly against the blackness that tinted his vision and slowly crept upon him in his mind.
Finally, he gave up struggling, and that's when he heard it. An outraged yell, no, a roar. And Tybalt struggled again, however weakly, cracking his eyes open a bit, he saw nothing but sky and more dark swaths of whatever those things were.
The roar came again though, showing he hadn't been hearing things, or maybe he was, and just didn't know it.
"Foul creepers of darkness, this is my land, my home, my territory. Mine! Take your vile evil shapes elsewhere!" Came the harshly screamed words, and Tybalt would have started if he wasn't half dead. When they had been assigned here, all that had been living was in a village. That they had lost to the darkness. There should have been nothing else here.
Another screaming roar tore the dawn air, and the strench of burning flesh came to Tybalt's nose, forcing him to cough weakly, no matter how much it hurt his form or drained his strength.
More burning stench assaulted his senses, as smoke started to burn his eyes and make them water, but the coughing and blurry vision didn't keep him from seeing the massive fireballs that clawed and chewed into the dark shapes, bringing them down with loud cracking explosions amongst their death cries of pain and agony.
'Is this hell?' Tybalt thought, starting to fade again as the screams of the creatures started to ebb into the background, leaving him in silence. Whatever it was, the foul things were being tortured too so maybe it wasn't so bad to be in hell. Once more, he was about to allow death to swallow him when something prodded him, and he flinched, slightly. Just because he was numb, and cold, didn't mean that he couldn't feel pain when the swords were jostled.
He didn't even have the strength to open an eye, even as warm air blasted into his face.
"Are you dead, human?" A voice taunted him, and more warm air washed over his form, warming him from death's chill and smelling a bit better than the carnage around him. "Were you so weak as to die by a shade's hand?"
Tybalt thought if he could ignore the speaker it would go away and stop annoying him. But it didn't. It continued to nag and annoy him. This bothersome thing would not go away, and actually started to pull the swords from his frame.
Finally not even he could take it, how dare this thing, whatever it is, keep him from any semblance of a warriors death and honor! Cracking his eyes open, he tried to speak in outrage, but found he could only croak, so Tybalt glared instead.
"Ah, so there we have the mighty human. Can he not speak? Is he mute?"
Tybalt just continued to glare at the form, wondering what sort of devil was this? This taunting lizard like face that stared down at him with violet scales and amber eyes. Large teeth adorned it's maw that easily were inches long. Creamish colored scales covered the underside of the creature while tinges of pink were here and there on the cream.
The muzzle came down again, and nudged him, not caring if it jostled wounds, the creature was acting like he was some rag doll or child's toy to play with. He was no toy!
As if sensing the anger housed within the human, the creature chucked roughly, pulling away enough to not jostle him. "Do you wish to live human? To take down these wretched shadows that take over my land, and your own?"
It recived no answer. Not yet anyways. "You are inferior to them, and myself. No human can match my strength, let alone what you sought to fight against. But ... you intrigue me human."
Once again the muzzle lowered and shifted, one amber eye focusing on Tybalt's face. "If you make a pact with me human, you will live. You will become strong. You may even see the end of these miserable cretins that plauge our lives like locusts."
It was too tempting, he had to take this deal, this offer. This chance for finally actually doing something to these shadows that thought they could do as they please! "Fine," Tybalt managed to croak out, and the beast grinned.
If you asked him later about it, Tybalt would probably answer honestly, he had no idea how he summoned the strength to do as the animal bid. Or how he managed to survive the process that felt like his body was being torn apart. But with the pain, came a white flooding light, that seemed to rejuvenate him once the orb, his soul, the beast had told him, touched it's own.
As the light faded, he found his body was healed, while his clothes and armor, unfortunately, did not fair so well. Still bloodstained and ragged, Tybalt could only grumble a bit as he shrugged off the now useless armor once he stood up. Turning his attention to the beast, he saw it was a dragon.
Shocked, he could only point, how could it be, that drunkard had exclaimed dragons were only tales to scare children, but then had gone to say they were slugish beasts that looked like large lizards with squat wings and deformed heads.
This was nothing like that, if, Tybalt mused, this was a woman and not a dragon, he would surely label the creature beautiful. For it looked like it was as deadly as gracefull.
The dragon seemed to read his thoughts and chuckled at the compliment, "How kind of you to flatter me so, even if you are a human."
Tybalt flushed a little before looking shocked again, "You can hear my thoughts?"
The dragon, that he now somehow knew as female, shrugged in a dragonic way. 'It is what a pact does. We are one. And we can speak to eachother over long distances by thinking, like so.'
Tybalt heard her voice, but didn't see her mouth open at all. This was all new, and verk shocking, he decided. And he didn't like it that the dragon seemed amused that he was shocked by this. But before he could snap out at her, the dragon's head shifted, her gaze going from him to somewhere behind him. Turning, he wondered if this was a ploy to get out of being chewed out.
"There is something ... wrong that way," the dragon murmured, her eyes half narrowed as a long violet and cream striped tail snapped back and forth behind her, while violet and tinged pink cream wings fluttered, as if the dragon was anxious to get into the air. "It feels like those wretched shadow creepers, but .. bigger."
Tybalt snorted a bit as he sheathed his twin swords, "It sounds like you are afraid Dragon."
The violet dragon shot him a look before her gaze turned back to the horizon where distant mountains could barely be seen amongst the clouds that covered them and the sky around them. And then she gasped, "We should leave, now! Quickly!"
Muttering, Tybalt snapped out a 'fine' as he looked for his horse (even though he guessed it was dead), but was interupted by the dragon as she snapped him up in her jaws and tossed him up so he landed sprawled on her back, just able to clutch at her scales least he fall off. "No time for such fruitless efforts we must take to the skies!" She half roared while crouching and leaping into the air, wings straining to lift her up as they beat rapidly.
Leaving poor Tybalt to clutch madly as he was jerked and jostled about, almost loosing his hold on the dragon skin and scales he clung too. And as a sense of dread started to creap up onto him as evident fear leaked from the beast, Tybalt found himself hoping that the dragon was over reacting.
