Chapter Eleven
Alister brushed aside a hanging fern, his eyes narrowing as it snapped back into place and tapped him harmlessly yet annoyingly on the head. It had been a mile or so since they had found the priest's body, and the forest had been completely eerie since then. The pixies that had been flitting around were now gone, and there also were not any animals. Alister was not certain what the explanation was, but Volker and his friends seemed assured of the meaning.
"Because it's a sin to kill one of these priests, an evil presence has descended on the forest," Volker announced gravely. "The pure creatures will not walk here any longer—not until the villains are brought to justice." And he was more than willing to be the one to do that. How dare they commit such atrocities in his land! He would not stand for it.
Seto rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he grunted. He was regretting ever coming on this mission. Being around Volker for a long time made him irritable, for one thing. The man was so extremely impulsive and almost idealistic in his beliefs that he could change what was that it reminded Seto too much of Joey Wheeler. And of course being around that Brooklyn boy for very long was not something Seto relished. Seto was not even certain that coming along on this excursion had a point, but if it would make the others happy to find this Talisman, he had decided that he would make the best of it. If they were satisfied, then perhaps the end would be in sight. He just hoped that Mokuba would be safe in the meantime.
Alexander now blinked at him. "Do you have a better explanation?" he asked curiously, moving closer to Alister. He could sense the dark presence that Volker had mentioned, and judging by Alister's tense expression, he could as well. The doppelganger spread his wings defensively, ready to cover Alister with them if necessary.
"I don't need an explanation," Seto retorted. "We can operate better without a lot of animals around anyway."
Abruptly there was a noise in the nearby brush and everyone perked up nervously. Volker and the rebels shifted into an attack position, their weapons held high. Alexander kept his wings spread and started to lower them over Alister, but the other redhead shook his head in protest. He did not want to be shielded at the expense of all the others who would be vulnerable, and he and the others likewise braced themselves for a possible fight.
All of them were stymied when several elderly men adorned in robes identical to those of the dead man emerged into the clearing. They stood there, gazing calmly at the group with peaceful, wise eyes. None of them spoke aloud, but they did not have to.
Volker was the first to visibly react. He lowered his spear, turning to look at the others. "It's alright," he declared. "These are the other holy priests."
Slowly everyone else relaxed as well. Then Volker stepped forward, becoming the self-appointed spokesperson for the group. No one objected, and the priest in the lead went over to him.
"Travelers, what brings you to this once sacred spot?" he asked in a quiet voice. "It has been gravely desecrated by evil men." He studied each of them in turn, and Rishid took note of the jewel-studded ring on his left hand. When the older man caught Rishid gazing at it, the hand quickly vanished into the many folds of the humble robe's sleeve. Rishid frowned slightly, but when he glanced at the others he found that none of them had seemed to notice what had happened.
"We are on a quest to find Geates' Tomb," Volker answered, and explained of the reason behind their mission while the others made interjections. The priests listened quietly, nodding as they appeared to believe and understand what they were being told.
"Your mission is noble," spoke the first at long last. "You are hoping to find the Talisman itself in the tomb, if I am understanding correctly, or something else magical that may be of use during the approaching battle." He looked back at his companions and they all nodded, as if exchanging silent questions and answers between them, and then he looked back to Volker. "So you wish for us to escort you to the tomb, am I correct?"
"That's right," Volker nodded as well, but then blinked in confusion as Arvin laid a hand firmly on his shoulder.
"Volker, I want a word with you in private," he said softly, urgency obvious in his eyes.
Volker felt confused. "Why?" he demanded. "Is something wrong?"
Arvin shook his head and walked on ahead, grabbing Volker's arm as he went. When they were near the back of the procession, he finally spoke. "Volker, these men are not the priests," he said in hushed tones. "I swear it on the grave of my father, who was one of them. The ones who have come to us are all imposters!" It was clear from his eyes that he sincerely and completely believed what he was telling, but Volker was incredulous. Such a thing had never happened before, and he was not willing to believe that it had now.
"That's ridiculous!" he retorted. "They couldn't be imposters. Who would they be then? And why impersonate the priests? What reason could they have?"
"If these were truly the holy guardians, then they would be in deep mourning," Arvin responded. "They would be wearing the traditional robes of grief, but instead, as you can see, their attire is the same as the departed. It's obvious they know about the other man's death—they talked about the desecration—but they simply show nothing else that's evident of the knowledge. They act like nothing is truly wrong at all!" He narrowed his eyes. "As for why they're doing this, I don't know. Maybe they're trying to lead us into a trap. Maybe they want to sacrifice us to the dragon so that they can get the riches in the tomb. If they are false guardians, they may have tried and failed to get the dragon to obey them and hence, require the sacrifice. All I know is that we cannot trust them!"
Rishid, overhearing their discussion, came over closer to volunteer his own bit of information. Alexander, Alister, and Seto soon followed, along with the rest of the rebels. "The spokesman has a ring," Rishid announced quietly. "When he realized I had seen it, he tried to conceal it."
Arvin snapped his fingers. "There! You see? These men live too modestly to have fine jewelry. They would never be caught with it." He looked desperately at Volker. "You have to trust me, friend. Things are not as they seem to be. If you insist on trusting them, it's a path I can't follow you upon." It was obvious that he was completely serious in his words. He would not allow himself to be killed over folly such as this. He had to stay alive to protect Juno. And even though it would pain him for his friend to go astray, he would never go down the same path himself.
Volker's own eyes were narrowed darkly as he thought over what he was being told. Arvin knew of the priests' lifestyle better than he did; indeed, it was one of the reasons he had brought the other young man along. He did not have any doubt that Arvin knew of what he was speaking. What concerned him was what they were going to do about it. "Perhaps," he said finally, "we should pretend to trust them, to find out what they're up to. We outnumber them, after all. If they show their true colors and try to have us killed, we can fight back." He gripped his spear. "I will never back down from my fight to save Juno, and if these men are truly enemies, then they must be found out and eliminated."
Seto felt highly annoyed over this latest development, but he was not surprised. Though he did not believe that anything supernatural was afoot, he could easily accept the idea that wicked men were manipulating events in their own favor because they wished to rule Juno. He would be more surprised if something like that was not the case. "Fine," he growled then. "Let's find out what they're up to. The sooner, the better. I have a brother to protect and a company to run." With that he turned away, walking back to where the priests were waiting.
Volker frowned after him, then looked back to the others. "Is everyone of that same mind?" he demanded. He was pleased to see nods all around. In determination he walked back through the grass and weeds to speak with the supposed holy man in the lead.
"Please forgive that little interruption," he said smoothly, knowing that he could not let on that they were all suspicious now. "One of my men had some fears concerning the great dragon. I was trying to reassure him that there is not any danger when we're in your company." He smiled calmly. "After all, the beast in under your control, is he not?"
He took notice of the way the priest swallowed nervously before answering. "Why, of course. We have only to give him the command and he will let us pass. Come. It is still a long way from here." With that the man quickly brushed by, apparently eager to be on his way. Volker smiled, convinced that they were on the right track, and followed—gesturing to the others to do the same.
Ishizu watched silently from the window, gazing down to where she knew the battle was taking place. She could see the torches and hear the screams of the soldiers, and she gripped the curtain as she shut her eyes tightly. Marik was down there. He had insisted, as she had known he would, and she feared that he had already been injured—or worse. Of course she had confidence in his fighting skills, but he had never been exposed to something as grueling and treacherous as this. He was in danger. All of their warriors were, and Ishizu feared that the enemy's army was much greater.
"Miss Ishizu?"
The Egyptian woman started and looked down when she felt a small hand tugging on her skirt. Kade was looking up at her with wide, worried eyes, reminding her again of Marik as a child, and her heart shattered.
"Yes? What is it, Kade?" she asked gently as she knelt down to be at the same level with him.
His lip trembled. "Is Mr. Marik gonna be okay?" he asked. "I . . . I don't want anything to happen like . . . like what happened last time!" He was trying so hard to be strong, but it was obvious that he was afraid—not just for Marik, but for his mother, whose condition was still worsening. He had seen so much that no one should ever have to see—especially at his age.
Ishizu gathered him into her arms. "I pray that he will be," she said softly, knowing that she could not promise anything. She closed her eyes again, delivering a silent prayer as she felt Kade's shoulders shaking. Failure was not an option. Juno had to be saved—and Ishizu could only hope that it was not God's plan for Sapphire, or Marik—or Rishid—to die in order for it to come to pass.
The wind on the battlefield was picking up speed, making it all the more difficult to fight. Marik had to repeatedly brush his hair out of his eyes, but it did little good as it came right back. In frustration he jabbed at an enemy soldier, grimacing as he caught the other young man in the shoulder. He dodged a spray of blood, wishing that they did not have to be on opposite sides. "We want the same thing!" he yelled, watching the other fall to his knees. "It's ridiculous to fight each other!"
Suddenly he gasped, feeling a cord go around his neck as someone from behind him tried to choke him. Instinctively he reached up, trying to pull it free while continuing to hold onto the Rod. He kicked back at his opponent and they swiftly tumbled to the ground in mortal combat. The cord was loosed upon impact, but as Marik struggled to get up, the stranger grabbed for him again and wrestled him down a small hill. As they turned over and over, Marik fought for the upper hand—panicked that they would crash into other warring men along the way.
By some miracle they did not, and as they arrived at the bottom Marik managed to get his opponent pinned on the ground. The noose was still around his neck, but he prayed that the man would be too involved with trying to throw him off to try tightening it again. Viciously he punched his attacker, dazing him long enough for Marik to remove the rope and attempt to tie it around his hands. He supposed, in retrospect, that his intention had been to take a hostage in the hopes of halting the battle, but in any case his plan did not proceed as planned.
The man kicked out, catching Marik in the chest and causing him to fall back. Then the enemy soldier was on his feet again, grabbing for a fallen sword and preparing to plunge it into Marik's heart. The Egyptian swiftly rolled out of the way, hearing the slash of the weapon on the dead grass behind him. His heart was racing and he felt himself get an adrenaline rush as he leaped up and drew out the sword that he had chosen when he had been preparing for the battle.
The blades clinked, and for an unknown period of time they fought against the backdrop of warring men and running blood. Both Marik and his opponent gained wounds, and Marik knew that they had to end this swiftly, but just as he succeeded in disarming the man another one dropped onto the scene from the hill above and nearly cut Marik down—but he was stopped by a sharp attack from Valon.
Marik whirled around, hearing the victim's cry, and saw him crash to the ground. Valon stood over the fallen form, breathing heavily. He had barely managed to arrive in time, and was not at all certain what would have happened if he had not. Raising blue eyes to meet Marik's stunned lavender orbs, the Australian grinned and tried to hide his true feelings over what he had been forced to do. "You owe me one, mate," he said cheerily.
Marik nodded slowly, seeing the revulsion in Valon's eyes. The brown-haired young man had never actually had to kill anyone before tonight, and when he had gotten into fights in the past, he had fought with his fists. Valon felt awkward holding a weapon now.
This was all somewhat new for Marik himself, as well. He had certainly never had to fight in a war before now, and he was not certain at all how he felt about it. He knew that it had to be done, and that they would not be fighting each other if they could have made the opposing side understand what was truly happening to Juno, so he had to hope that it was justified. They could not simply stand by and allow themselves and their loved ones to be killed, after all. And so, feeling that he was doing the only thing he could, he had determined to fight to the best of his ability and hope that he would not give in to the increasing emotions of anger and rage that were building.
Suddenly remembering the original man he had been fighting, Marik whirled around just in time to see him reaching for his blade. Before he could attack the boy, Marik delivered a fatal blow and then stood there, tightly gripping his sword as he stared down at the body. It was only for a moment, but it seemed an eternity—which was broken as Valon spoke.
"I know about the kinda stuff that happened to you in your past . . . and how you'd do whatever you had to when you were going after the Nameless Pharaoh, but this is still kinda hard, isn't it?"
Marik hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I want to hate these people for waging war on us," he said darkly. "I want to hate them for the threat they're posing to people I care about—Ishizu, Rishid, Mokuba . . . Kade . . . and yet, they think they're doing what's right for Juno, the same as we do." He wiped the sword on the grass and turned to face the Australian. "I fully believe that they're wrong . . . but that's what makes this tragic. Whether it's them or us, someone's wrong, and then what are they or we dying for? Are we all dying in vain?"
Valon shook his head, not knowing what to say in reply. "I guess . . . that's somethin' we'll never know," he said at last. "We've just gotta survive the best we can. And hey . . . we didn't want things to come to this. Sapphire's tried lots of times to get these blokes to listen to reason, but they won't, so that's how come it's ended up like this." But even though he fully believed all that he was saying, he had the feeling that all of those involved in this would come out with various scars—most of them not physical.
"I know." Marik surveyed the battle field, and then blinked in shock as he caught sight of a flash of mint hair up ahead, flying free from under a shadowy man's hood. "That man looks familiar," he breathed, watching him charge forward with his sword and cut down two men in his path. As realization dawned, the Egyptian was stymied. That was the one who had brought the army here, and if Marik was seeing correctly, he had just killed two of his own men who were about to launch a catapult.
Valon stared as well, muttering something that Marik could not hear. That was also the man who had let him go free before, and the sight of the long mint hair made his blood run cold. He knew that hair, he knew it only too well, and when he thought about it, the mysterious man's voice matched too. He had not made the connection before because the thought was so outlandish, but now he was convinced of the truth.
"Hey!" Marik cried then, interrupting Valon's train of thought. "We have to get back in there! It looks like some of those men are trying to march up the mountain to get to the castle!" Without waiting for Valon's reply, he held his sword high and plunged back into the fray with a haunting war cry. He would not give them the chance to reach the top and harm those inside the castle in any way! His sister was in there, and Mokuba, and Kade! He would fight for them. He would protect them, no matter how many he had to kill in order to do so.
Valon watched him go, and then narrowed his eyes in resolution. He would not be beaten either. It was hard for him, to have to fight and kill people in this way, but they had insisted on becoming the enemy, and so Valon would do what he had to. Clutching his own sword, he ran after Marik to stop those who were determined to get into the castle. "You guys'll only get up there over my dead body!" he cried, his voice echoing, and he knew that what he said was a distinct possibility. Shouldn't have put it like that, he decided.
Dartz had a feeling that his traitorous actions had been found out by the wrong people. As he felled another and then stopped momentarily to gaze across the battlefield, the impression only increased. Someone was surveying everything from the sky, but when he looked up, it was far too dark to see anything substantial. Cursing in his mind, he turned back to the war raging around him. Despite the fact that there was mass confusion everywhere, he was certain that his soldiers would catch on soon that he was actually not on their side and that he was attacking their comrades.
Some of his men were apparently planning to go up the mountain and enter the castle while the others were fighting. He had been expecting that. The battle at the foot of the alp was only a distraction. He had heard some of his men planning it.
He drew his sword and lunged, plowing right back into the fray. He knew that he would be killed if his perfidious actions were discovered—and that he could be killed even if that was not the case. War was not a respecter of persons. He did not feel that he had any better chance of staying alive than any of the other skilled soldiers. Perhaps he had less of a chance because of his past sins.
He still wondered why he was risking everything for this land. Was it a selfish attempt to redeem himself for his previous madness? Was he still mad? It seemed that he would have to be. Did he care about the land? If it was saved now, it would only fall into disrepair later, he thought pessimistically. What was even the point?
As he continued to wrestle with himself, he was slashing at others with his blade, trying to keep them from reaching the mountain. He had grown numb to the screams of agony, but upon hearing another strangled cry he gave pause.
"It's Dartz! It's Master Dartz!"
He gripped his sword tightly. Master Dartz. . . . He had not been called that since he had been the leader of Paradius. The title brought back unwelcome memories of his warriors, especially of Alister, Valon, and Raphael. And it made him realize that some of the soldiers in this army had looked up to him as well. He was letting them down. He had used them for his own means, just as he had thoughtlessly used others before. Whether or not his goal was good did not change that.
He clenched his teeth and ran forward again. There was not time to feel guilty. He was too deep into this already. He had to finish it. Even if peace would not be lasting, it was peace that he was fighting for now. And if he could help achieve it, then at least, those sacrificed would not have died in vain.
In the meantime, Alister's group had journeyed further into the jungle. By now they had nearly reached the cave, and all were growing apprehensive. What were the fake priests planning? Would they indeed try to force the others to be meals for the dragon?
All of them were also bewildered by the change in the weather as they approached their destination. Frost was upon the leaves, the wind was nipping at any and all exposed flesh, and though they could not see it, the sky had clouded over above them. It seemed as though winter was upon them, and despite the fact that they did not know why, they did realize that something was very wrong. No season should be able to appear so suddenly.
"How much farther is the cave?" Alister demanded at last.
"It's up this hill," one of the priests answered.
Seto grunted. "Well, either someone has a sick sense of humor or something's really gone wrong," he announced, and pointed to a nearby creek whose water was a deep crimson. Everyone gasped, and Alexander grabbed at Alister's arm.
"Someone's hurt!" he cried in horror.
Alister narrowed his eyes. "Or worse," he said grimly.
Even the priests seemed disturbed as everyone ascended the hill. Yellow and golden and rust-colored leaves crackled under their feet, which was not unusual, but the silence of everything else—save the bubbling, bloodied creek—definitely was. There were no chirping birds or chattering chipmunks. The trees, waving slightly with the wind, did not make an audible sound. But perhaps most unsettling of all, the dragon had not roared once. Usually it could be heard ages before the hill was gained.
As they arrived at the top and brushed pine branches out of their way, they discovered the reason for the silence—much to their consternation.
A massive, scaled body was sprawled across the ground, its arms, legs, and tail spread out limply. There was blood all around the form, dripping into the nearby creek from the sloping dirt—and there was also the remains of a human body, badly clawed from the dragon. In a hand drenched with blood was desperately clenched a sword, which had apparently been the means of the dragon's defeat.
"They killed each other," Volker breathed at last, after a long and stunned silence. Upon seeing that the others were frozen to their spots, he took several steps forward to the site of the battle. Who was the man who had done this, and why had he? Had he been foolishly trying to get the Talisman, or could he have been attempting to help the others so that they would be able to get inside the cave when they came? But if that were the case, how would he have known they were coming?
When he drew close enough to see the blood-streaked face of the warrior, a myriad of new questions spilled forth into his astonished mind and he could not comprehend what he was seeing. It was impossible, and yet his eyes could not lie. "Arvin!" he burst out, not knowing or caring that he was speaking aloud.
"Arvin!" Valon repeated, coming to life and pushing past the others. "But he was with us!"
"Perhaps he knew of a shortcut and snuck away to eliminate the dragon for us," Rishid suggested quietly. "Perhaps he knew that there was not another way, due to these men not actually being the priests and therefore, not having the power to soothe the beast." With that he walked forward carefully, going over to where Volker was still kneeling in disbelief. Rishid could understand the younger man's grief and confusion, and though he knew that they must make haste in order to save the others, he expressed his sincere condolences before advancing to the mouth of the tomb. Volker only briefly nodded in acknowledgement, wrapped up in his feelings, and motioned for the Egyptian to hurry to complete the task at hand. Rishid noted that not one priest stopped to attempt to comfort Volker in his loss.
After a short hesitation, the others followed Rishid inside the dark and dreary mausoleum, making certain that their torches were lit as the light of the outside faded away. The cave was filled with stalactites and stalagmites—and a near-constant dripping sound that echoed throughout the enclosed space. The party moved forward cautiously, making certain not to trip, and hoping that the path would be clear cut and devoid of many forks and twists. It seemed as if the trail went on endlessly, and all were growing frustrated, but as they turned a corner, they could see torches lit up ahead.
"We are on the correct path," Rishid declared, but for some reason he did not feel the relief that he was hoping they would.
As they followed the newfound light, they were guided to what was obviously the final bed of the famed Geates. His stone coffin, adorned with many jewels and carefully-carved designs of importance to Juno's people that signified what a great man they had believed him to be, lay ahead on a pedestal. A collective gasp went up when they saw that the lid was off—and that a marvelous glow was coming from inside.
"It's pretty," Alexander said softly, entranced by the lights. He went forward before anyone could stop him, and upon reaching the casket, he leaned over and withdrew the missing Talisman. It continued to shine brightly, apparently not adverse to the doppelganger handling it, and Alexander held it up reverently, his fascination obvious.
"So it was here all along," Alister said quietly, shaking his head. And when he thought about it, and what they had been told, he realized that all of this seemed too easy. He had the very bad feeling that they were playing right into someone's hands—and not necessarily into the priests'. Perhaps, if this stone truly did have sentience, it was what was pulling the strings and it had wanted to be found, for some dark purpose or another. Alister felt apprehensive, and when he exchanged a glance with Rishid, he found that the older man felt the same way.
"Thank you so much for finding it for us," came the smooth and unfeeling voice of the main false priest. He stepped forward, sword in hand, and the others followed suit—each one baring a weapon. "You even took care of our dragon problem. None of us could slay the beast, and of course, the real fools who guard this spot wouldn't tell the dragon to let us pass." He smirked now, the greed apparent in his eyes. "Now, do hand it over and maybe we'll be merciful enough to spare your lives, even though we didn't spare theirs."
"This is outrageous!" Rishid declared, righteous fury in his eyes. He knew that these men must work for Colchis, but at the moment that fact seemed insignificant. More than who they answered to, what mattered was their selfishness and what they wanted to unleash. "We will not be part of your wicked, covetous plot."
"But we aren't going to die, either," Seto spoke up, his eyes dark and cold. "We're going to make sure that this nonsense ends so that we can all return to our lives!"
"There's more of us than there are of you," Alister remarked. "What makes you think you even could win?"
The greed-filled man continued to smile evilly. "The Talisman, of course," he replied. "It will obey orders from Colchis, and right now his orders are for all of you to die!" He stabbed the air with his sword in emphasis, and he and his followers advanced.
Immediately the Talisman sprang to life. It glowed fiercely, burning Alexander and forcing him to drop it as he gave a pained cry. Uncaring of the injury it had just caused, the jewel hovered in the air as its brightness forced all to look away. Then there were more screams of agony, echoing up and down the ancient walls—until, abruptly, all was silent.
At last Rishid dared to look up. It half-surprised him that he was still alive, and as he gazed at his companions, he found that all the rest of them were as well. The Talisman had instead killed Colchis's men, for whatever reason. The Egyptian gazed at their lifeless bodies sadly, shaking his head, and then realized that the pendant was now around his own neck. It had chosen him to be its wearer, at least temporarily, but Rishid still could not feel peace. Something was drastically wrong, not just with the Talisman, but with their friends and family. They had to quickly return to the site of the battle, but they would not be able to succeed for hours yet unless the Talisman and Alexander could combine their powers to teleport everyone there. Rishid prayed that they would not already be too late.
