Wow, it's been long! I formatted my computer due to the incureable disease of slowness, and apparently the outline for this story was chewed up as well. (Insert "Argh" here). At any rate, I made this one up anyways, and I hope you enjoy. On a side note, a lot of my symbols don't appear- equal signs, asterisks, that kinda thing. If the story seems to lack proper spacing between events, it's the computers fault! (Points at computer) Thanks again for reading- I'm lucky, to be such a negligent author and have people who still read my stuff! If you guys want to see more of a particular character, tell me and I'll try my best. Enjoy!
Memories.
Just a lot of memories. Jack groaned, turned slightly in his bed- but he didn't wake up.
Memories.
He hated memories. When he was awake, he could remember. That's why he loved to sleep. But one couldn't sleep forever; you had to wake up sometime. So he would wake up. And he would keep his mind busy: weaving magic, designing constructs, perfecting traps and secret passageways and all sorts of things that would make scientists drool had they simply glanced in the general direction of his collection.
He kept his mind to the future. He kept his mind to the future because that way, it wouldn't dwell in the past.
"Momma?" His voice was soft, child-like. He loathed the very sound, but the image would replay whether or not he wanted it to. "Momma? Where are you? I can't find you."
Another voice. Not as high as his own, but gentle and sincere. Safe. The new voice contrasted with his frightened one. "I'm here, Jackie. Come here, sweetie- you can find me if you look hard enough."
He swallowed, and moved through the darkness. A sliver of moonlight came through the window, barely passing any light. But he saw it; a hand, thin and pale as the light that touched it, resting on the arm of a chair. He had his hands in front of him, stretched, afraid he would trip over something in the darkness. He walked towards the hand, because he knew that's where his mother was, that's where safety was. Safety from the darkness, and safety from even worse things- the things that moved in the darkness.
He saw something, from the corner of his eye. A sinuous movement, casual and haphazard. A shine of scales against the moonlight, purposely drawing his eyes. It looked over its shoulders, its glowing eyes freezing him.
"Momma-" he said, his voice choking. Something grabbed his arm, and he drew in a quick breath, almost screaming. Eyes that were red, not unlike his own, glowered down at him.
"Why the hell are you out of bed?"
Jack gasped and sat straight up. He was in a bed with white covers. He wings were cramped because he had twisted them in his sleep. Sometime during his sleep, his clothes had been replaced- he looked with distaste at his new clothes. Temple robes. He had been wearing what he considered to be the most comfortable goth clothes available, and now- he scowled. They were white. Not he'd look like a ghost with red hair, wandering around aimlessly. His wings, reacting from his shift in emotions from fear to anger, reflected his mood faithfully by changing shape.
Jack say a movement out of the corner of his eye. Something long, and sinuous-
He gasped, then clutched at his chest when he realized it was only the dragon that usually accompanied the elemental dragons on their quests to find the Artifacts.
"Geez, learn to knock, why don't ya!" He grabbed a pillow and flung it, but the dragon slicked from its path with a dizzying shift in posture. It looked at the pillow for a moment, then back at Jack.
"The doctor will be in to see you soon." Sarren-du said, moving in a snake-like fashion until he was standing in front of the teen. "To update you on your condition."
"What, the condition of being crushed?" I reached for another pillow, but it appeared I only had the one, and it was already thrown. "Remind me to thank Mr. Overzealous the next time I see him. I'll have a Construct up and waiting that'll twist his head off and squish it between his hands!" I slammed my hands together to illustrate the point, but the dragon wasn't looking at my hands- it was looking in my eyes.
"What did you guys do with my clothes, anyways? What's with the bathrobe?"
Sarren-du didn't answer. Something- an expression?- flickered over its face, and then it had snaked over the bed- including the part my legs were still on- and out the window.
"Blech," I said, moving to wipe the area clean as if the dragon had left an offending trail behind. I hadn't even reached the area when a man came into the room. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his head clean-shaved and his face holding a smile. I disliked him immediately.
"I'm glad to see you're awake," he said. "My name is Guandi. How are you feeling?"
"Like I fell about four-hundred feet." I said cheerfully. "By the way, where's my clothes?"
"You are wearing new clothes now," Guandi said, coming over. He made to touch my forehead but I slapped his hand away. "Don't worry about your old ones now."
"Yeah, whatever. Kidnap me, destroy my home, take my Artifacts, steal my belt, and now my clothes." I stood up, then brushed by the monk. "Wanna steal my hair, too? Maybe I'll be a shining example like everyone else around here."
(A little while later...)
The evening found me by the tree again. I stared at the sky sourly, a piece of grass stuck between my lips. My hands cushioned my head against the bark; my wings spread to either side, gently opening and closing and giving me a light breeze. Nighttime was so much better than daytime, I thought. It was easier to think at this time of day, to create. Not that I had any materials to create with, mind, but that was beside the point.
"Jack."
"King Tusk!" I exclaimed. "What a nice night to ignore you! Go away, now."
The monk stood next to me, within kicking range, though I decided not to try that at the moment. His eyes narrowed. "You did not come and practice with me today."
"Did you not hear the part about me ignoring you? Go away now. I've had enough pajama-men for one day."
"If you do not stop acting like the spoiled brat you were raised as, I will rip the Winged Wrist from your back."
My legs had been crossed at the knee, and one leg had been bobbing in tune with some music in my head. After those words, my leg stopped bobbing. I'm not sure what offended me most- the act that he caleld me a spoiled brat, which I certainly was not, or the fact that he threatened to take away the only Artifact they couldn't take away from me.
I glowered at him. "You can't take it out. It's impossible."
"Removing the Artifact from your back is as possible as teaching you manners," he said. "The dragons found an Artifact that returns all Artifacts to their former state, through the same process they entered that state. There is a way to remove the Winged Wrist from your back, and if the need arises, I will personally see to it."
I said nothing for a long moment. From everything I had thought, the Artifact in my back would remain the same after it had been removed for the next century. Now I was beign told it could not only be removed, but it could be turned back to its natural state for anyone else to use.
"I see you realize the implications." The monk nodded slowly, watching me carefully. "You will come and train with me, tomorrow, at six. If you do not appear, I will have one of the dragons drag you from your bed to the training grounds."
"When will I get my belt back?" I demanded just as he turned to leave.
"I asked you to follow the rules of the temple and the chores you were assigned. So far, you have done neither. At this rate, you will never get them back." He began to leave, but paused one more time to look at me. "If I have to remove the wings from your back, I will crush each of the stones on your belt. If you feel you are crippled now because you cannot leave, you will feel the pressure thrice as badly when I am through. You will be obediant, Jack Spicer, or you will be punished. It's as simple as that." He smiled, and I thought his smile looked as familiar as someone else's I had known, a long time ago. "Good night, Jack."
True to his word, I was woken up at exactly 5:30 the next morning. Bleary-eyed and stumbling, I managed to choke down the entire meal that had been left for me. It was porridge, but it tasted like a slimy paste. I didn't care; it had been almost three days without eating. I don't know how Ghandi did it.
One of the monks directed my shuffling towards what I assumed to be the training grounds. The apprentices were already there, training with the man with blue eyes. We passed them, and had I been more awake, I might have noticed Raphielle glancing conspicuously at me through his excercises.
It was the far corner where King Tusk stood, completely awake and watching me with a distached expression on his face. "I trust you have slept well," he said, looking me up and down. "I also trust that, if you go to bed sooner, you will wake up more refreshed."
I yawned in answer. He said more things, blah blah blah training blah warrior blah child of light and darkness, blah blah-
A bucket of ice and water was dumped over my head.
"WAH!" I shouted, my eyes flying open. The monk had an empty bucket in one hand, his other hand bent behind his back. "What the heck? What was that for?"
"For ignoring me and trying to sleep where you stood." The monk narrowed his eyes at me. "When I speak, you will listen. Now, assume a pose like this." He bent his knees and moved his arms into position, assuming a stance and waiting. I moved my arms a little, trying to mimic him, until I felt I was looking enough like Tusk Jr. to impress him.
The monk straightened. "Your posture is terrible," he said. "Who taught you?"
"You," I snickered. His eyes narrowed, and he approached.
"Bend your knees so that you are ready to move. Straight legs will only slow you down. Spread your feet so that you center of balance is lower- your opponents will find it more difficult to trip you. Keep one hand in front, to defend, and the other hand behind, to attack when the time is right. Tilt your head- never take your eyes from your opponent. Straighten your back- you will experience pains from standing like this. There." He stepped back, and nodded. "Better. Now, attack me."
I snorted, but held my stance. "Yeah, right! So you can reef me upside the head and tell me to do better? I'll stand here, thanks, and enjoy the rising sun if you don't mind."
"If you are able to land a finger on me, you are free to go."
That caught my attention. "How do I know you're not lying?"
"I have my honour, and monks of my faith do not lie. If you are able to lay a single finger on me- not my clothing, but my physical body- then you are free to go. This offer stands until the sun goes down this day."
I looked at the dawning sun. Twelve hours, give or take, to knock an old guy around? Twelve hours to simply touch him, and I was free to go? That was it- that was all?
I smirked. "Sure," I said. "I guess I can try."
I rushed at him, hopefully before he even had time to process the words. I jumped in the air, beating my wings once for a little leverage, and kicked- only to hit air. A hand closed around my ankle, and I was thrown to the ground.
"You expected me to hold still and let you hit me. Never expect anything of your opponent except for them to be better than you- that way, you will always be prepared for the unexpected."
I stood up, warily. I charged again, throwing a punch. The monk moved to the side and I tried a kick again, but this time I hit nothing and spun to the ground.
"Never hold your balance on the chance that you will hit your opponent. Should your opponent choose not to block the blow, you will be off-balanced, and ripe for the picking."
I scowled as I stood this time. I moved to one side, then changed my mind and began to move to the other. After a moment, I ran forward only again- only to have the monk move forward this time and trip me.
"The only unmoving target you will ever face is a practice dummy. Do not treat your opponents thus; in doing so, you will fail."
I stood up, rubbing my sore knees. I turned to look at the monk, and was surprised- he hadn't turned to face me. His back was towards me- could there be an easier target?
I walked forward, casually, in case he turned. As soon as I decided I was close enough, I lunged- and he simply leaned to one side. I teetered for a moment before his hand closed around my arm and he threw me forward.
"I already told you once not to depend on hitting your opponent to save your balance, Jack," he said as I hit the ground hard for the fourth time. This 'easy thing' was decidedly becoming more difficult. "Do not make me repeat myself again."
"You don't have to say anything!" I snapped. "Just shut up and don't move!" I charged him again, and punched. He ducked my blow, and pushed me aside. I caught my balance in the nick of time and whirled around with my leg- only to have the blow blocked. I jumped back before he could trip me, and tried punching with my other hand. This time, he caught my fist in his own hand.
"Never expect for your opponent to do what you want them to do." He twisted his hand suddenly, and I cried out as something cracked. "I asked you not to make me repeat myself.
I punched with my other hand, wildly and blindly, and he caught that one in his remaining hand. Both hands twisted and I fell to the ground, my arms on fire, my hands caught in his.
"You have tried five times and failed all five times. I see I have a great deal of training to do, from honourary ways of fighting to simple balance. Can you do nothing right?"
Someone else had said those words once. I cried out as he twisted my hands again. My eyes were tearing up, but I was fighting to keep the tears from falling. I hadn't been in this much pain in a long time.
"I asked you a question, Jack. You will answer when you are spoken to."
"Yes!" I shouted. "I can do all kinds of things right, just not fight- now let me go!"
"Master Yushi-Seck?"
My hands were released and I fell to the ground, clutching my injured hands to my chest. I cursed; they felt like they were broken, though I knew they weren't.
"You are disturbing my training session, master Foo-young. I do hope this is important enough to interrupt me."
"I apologize, Master Yushi-Seck, but this is important enough to warrant your attention. An Artifact has revealed itself. It is the sister Artifact to the Ribbed Necklace- the Spiny Headband."
"Go and collect it," Tusk snapped. "That is what your dragons are for, is it not?"
"I have already sent them," the monk said. "I am requesting you to send others to aid them- if someone else is able to capture the Spiny Headband and discover its function, Jack and this temple will be in danger, as well as the next thousand years. As long as we have them both, there will not be any immediate danger."
"Send others to follow your students," Tusk said. "And send them immediately."
"Of course, Master Yushi-Seck." The monk bowed, and as his head lowered, I saw his blue eyes flicker over to me. Just a slight movement- and then he turned and left.
I watched him go, then realized that Tusk was staring at me. A retort died on my lips; my arms hurt. Really bad.
"You know why he did that?" Yushi-Seck smiled at me. "He believed I was being too difficult on you. He has the authority to send as many men as he wants- he just came over to interrupt this session because he believed I was not being gentle enough. Foo-young can teach his students easily enough and without violence because they all have a drive to learn. You do not, and so there is only one course. Foo-young believes his ways are the best, and he refuses to see that he is, more often than not, wrong."
His eyes had taken on a dangerous glow. They were a strange colour, I realized- a brown that was more a dark golden colour. I hadn't noticed before, because they were usually narrowed, but now that they were wide and glaring, I was afforded a full view.
"One day, he will realize I was right." Tusk continued, watching me carefully. "Until then, we will continue to stick his nose where it doesn't belong." He stared to the side, where the apprentices had been training. "He is lucky. At least the ones he trains have some sampling of talent in them, something that can be molded into a fine sword." His eyes came back to me. "I have a little nothing, who can't even keep from crying when his wrists are sprained."
I was startled. Sprained? We stared at each other for a long moment before he turned on his heel and stalked away. I stayed where I was, clutching my hands to my chest, until I was certain he was gone. My wings fanned the air; they had changed to reflect my confused mood, changing and molding from shape to shape.
I slowly stood up, tucking my wings close to my back. My hands needed to be fixed. That meant that I needed to find a doctor. And, unfortunately, the only doctor I knew around here was Guandi.
Holding my arms carefully, I walked back the way I had come.
