(A/N) Hey guys! Next chapter out-I promise tons more action is coming in the next one... though I have SAT and a soccer tournament next weekend, so there might be a slight delay on the next update (not too long though; expect around a week and a half or so from now!) Thanks to everyone who fav'd and alerted last chapter! Hope you enjoy:
Disclaimer: If I owned ToS, Kratos would stay with Lloyd and help him collect exspheres on his boat. Too bad. I don't, so don't sue me!
Chapter 12
The hard gaze of the Sylvaranti scanned the darkness for the remaining Tethe'allan Knights; his arm was locked at the elbow in its unforgiving hold on his captive. He tightened his grip on his dagger.
"Show yourselves, I'm losing my patience." Kratos huffed irritably at the domineering sneer the man managed to pull off. He stepped over the unconscious bodies of several unknown attackers, where he knew they fell anyway- he couldn't see them. Creeping softly in a slow circle around the man, Kratos barely kept his balance on the narrow edge of the pathway. The conduit was so thin, in fact, that he had to pass within a couple of yards of the Sylvaranti in order to get around him. At his nearest point, Kratos' footfall was hardly audible, yet somehow the man heard him.
The dark haired male's head jerked to the side, eyes trained on Kratos immediately. He just as quickly turned to face Kratos' new position though Kratos was fairly certain that he couldn't actually see him.
"Don't move. There'll be no sneaking out while I'm here." Kratos raised an eyebrow in surprise. Perhaps he could see him. The red head didn't have a solution just yet to the hostage crisis, so he had no other choice than to step forward.
"For the record, I wasn't going to sneak out." He muttered darkly with his hands in the air. The Sylvaranti looked somewhat pleased, though he no longer looked directly at Kratos. Several other enemy soldiers made their way to his location, now dimly visible in the outer cone of light. They wrenched the sword off of his belt and clamped a tight hold on his shoulder. His injured shoulder. Kratos grimaced slightly.
"Where did the other one go?" The apparent commander of the group demanded to one of his subordinates.
"He bolted up the entrance as soon as the first one got off a warning, sir." Came a curt and formal reply from one of the men behind Kratos. The commanding Sylvaranti, the only one Kratos had a face to pair with a voice for, pushed the hostage Knight at one of his officers. The man stumbled clumsily, breath ragged from holding it.
"Damn, we better break for it. If he gets reinforcements, we're as good as caught." The man sheathed his dagger and swiftly took stock of his party. "Where'd Rodriguez and Fujishima go?" he questioned.
"They're over here sir!" One man called from where Kratos knew he'd knocked out several Sylvaranti, "Unconscious" The one in charge cursed vehemently.
"How'd they manage that?" He spat while running a hand through his hair in frustration, "We had the jump on them!" He let his hands fall to his hips while shaking his head. "Well, we can't leave them. Drag them as best as you can without slowing down."
"Yes sir!" The same man replied while hoisting a knocked out body over his shoulder. Kratos suppressed a snort. It wasn't really fitting for him to be laughing at the moment.
"Come on!" The commander barked, which prompted the Sylvaranti behind Kratos to shove him roughly. Again with the pushing. Kratos followed easily enough, tracing the latticed framework of pathways behind several other Sylvarantis. The dark, dank, and foul smelling sewers were starting to get a bit too familiar, and Kratos didn't like how accustomed he was to this trip already. What was this? The third time through? It shouldn't be a habit of his. Kratos realized that he probably should be a bit more serious in his situation, perhaps even worried, but all he could dredge up was a small portion of regret for missing his father's funeral.
They cleared the sewers swiftly, not even pausing while crossing into the grey light. Kratos' eyes took a moment to adjust, but now he could clearly see a pack of seven armed Sylvaranti standing- not counting the two unconscious ones. How they managed to slip this far unnoticed, Kratos couldn't fathom. It was a particularly large group, only augmented by Kratos and the other Knight's presence. The commander wasn't fazed, however. He set off along the sewage ditch, evidently making his way towards the river. The remaining Sylvaranti were quick to follow, prodding Kratos and the other Tethe'allan with their weapons. Soon the cover of trees blocked Meltokio from view.
After walking in silence for what must be nearing an hour, Kratos heard the heavy flow of water pouring over rocks. It was clear that they were coming up on the Koiti stream, the largest of the tributaries leading into the Potamos River. It was fed from the caps on the Fooji Mountains that steadily melted until summertime, and when there were none, it was dependent on the harsh rains that beat on the windward side of the mountain range. The waters were always cool and clear at this point from Meltokio, and Kratos figured the Sylvaranti were going to use the stream to cover their tracks. Perceivably, they could also follow the creek without much interference until they either met Latheon Gorge if they went further North, or Ossa Trail if they chose to follow the Potamos River south. All things considered, Kratos decided that they must be headed North, otherwise it would've made much more sense to loop around the southern side of Meltokio and shorten the trip while taking almost immediate refuge in much thicker forests.
They were almost definitely headed to Latheon Gorge, then.
Kratos didn't know how he felt about that. Fortunately, they weren't going to be getting to their destination for at least the better part of a day. On the other hand, the Gorge was the most intense field of battle. Almost all of the mana weapons in Tethe'alla were first built experimentally for combat at the Latheon Gorge, mostly because the location itself was so strategic. Kratos wouldn't wish some of those weapons on his worst enemy.
It was probable that the Sylvaranti desired information regarding Tethe'allan battle tactics in that region, especially now that Kratos knew their destination. It didn't make sense that they would infiltrate as far as Meltokio to reach those ends, though. The faux-courier-now-commander must have had another intention, but aborted his purpose after Kratos and his Knight acquaintance went to confront him. So this was the back-up plan. Having deduced enough for the moment, Kratos was shaken from his reverie with a hand on his shoulder. Everyone had halted in their march.
The man Kratos met upon his return from the Fooji Mountains promptly turned and examined them. His sharp eyes locked onto Kratos', yet there was no flicker of recognition. Questions would likely arise if Kratos were to take his helmet off, and it would most certainly come to light that he was not, in fact, a Knight with valuable information.
"I'm only going to say this once," the Sylvaranti began, taking the time to close the distance between him and the Tethe'allans. "You're going to tell me everything you know about the most recent movements of troops, and then I might let you go." Kratos sighed inwardly. It was to be expected. The Royal to his right, however, spoke up with only a slight tremor in his voice.
"I will not give up my country, sir, so you'd better just kill me now." Kratos blinked. There was a fierce patriotism and loyalty there, and he took the simpler approach.
"Better yet," Kratos began before the Sylvaranti could get a word in, "I'll tell you everything you want to know if you let him go." Kratos shrugged while nodding his head to the man on his right. The stolid manner of his delivery could have been adjusted for believability, but really he was annoyed with the entire ordeal. The Sylvaranti raised an eyebrow while the Knight gaped at him.
"Traitor! How could you give in so easily?" The guard spat while the Sylvaranti holding him back jerked his arm to keep him quiet. The commander had gotten past his surprise and narrowed his eyes at Kratos, nevertheless looking slightly pleased.
"It's his choice." The man nodded to his subordinate officers. "Let him go, the other one saw our faces anyway. It's not as if he'd be alerting them of something they didn't already know." The Knight was released swiftly, the sun casting deep shadows on the rather angry expression he was sporting. His sharp blue eyes met Kratos' russet ones and he gave a final glare before stalking back towards Meltokio.
"Ungrateful," Kratos muttered while rolling his eyes. He actually had a double purpose in negotiating for the Knight's escape. He had no idea how long it would be before the Sylvaranti decided to take his helmet off, but the inevitability of it was reason enough. Any Knight would surely recognize him, and there's no masking that kind of realization. He didn't need a Tethe'allan audience for the confrontation that was bound to happen when the commander no longer believed him to be a Knight either. Not to mention escape would be much easier if he didn't have to worry about another person. It was also safer for Tethe'alla if he gave them his outdated information. Either way, it was the only logical choice.
"You don't seem too afraid." The commander duly noted, almost amused at Kratos lack of discomfort. "Are you so quick to betray your country?" Kratos shrugged indifferently.
"I'm sick of the fighting, and to be entirely honest, you're not that frightening." The Sylvaranti's steely eyes flashed. It was the truth, and the commander seemed to sense that- if nothing else.
"Whatever the case, I won't look a gift-horse in the mouth." The Sylvaranti pushed Kratos ahead of him, and they started their walk anew.
Sweat beaded along Yuan's brow as he struck another foe down. The rocky crevices were littered with the bodies of soldiers either dead or unconscious. His team had burned a path straight through the thick of the Tethe'allan defenses, and the ensuing battle was a different kind of Hell. Tethe'allan soldiers were steadily retreating, but the damage they did in their defensible positions was substantial.
His plan was working, though. Kenta and the others were on the opposite flank of the Tethe'allans, and both parties were forcing the enemy back bit by bit. The fighting surface was treacherous at best, pockmarked with irregular holes that ranged from ankle deep to small trenches. The stony slabs lay at odd angles, so a battalion would be moving steeply uphill one moment, and then find a gentle downward slope past the peak. The varying elevations made it difficult for Yuan to tell how much further they were from the pass; a small ridge of relatively large boulders barred his view.
His platoon was charging up the jagged surface, and strangely the Tethe'allans didn't put up much of a fight. The initial bloodbath had left many dead. Vibrantly red life-giving blood splattered grotesquely on the grayish stone, almost enhanced by the bleak light. Still, given past circumstances, Yuan had never seen Tethe'allan forces simply turn tail and run. As he crashed forward and met no resistance, he began to feel something might be terribly wrong. His forces were strong, but the Tethe'allans were never intimidated by them. Yuan knew he had to watch for a regrouping counter-attack, but for now he was gaining too much territory to hold. The only way they could spread their slim numbers efficiently enough to fortify a plug against the Tethe'allans would be to get much nearer to the bridge. In that way they'd efficiently block the bottleneck that was the pass.
A quick glance back at his team revealed fewer casualties than expected. Injury wise, a few of his men had stab wounds not in the vital areas, but they'd have to watch their blood-loss. Make-shift bandages out of cloth tunics were stained red, but seemed to be holding. Yuan felt fairly good about his men's condition, and wiped some sweat from his brow before turning back to the rocky ridge they were ascending. It couldn't be much further to the bridge.
Yuan's left hand curled tighter around the leather grip of his butterfly blade as his feet deftly scaled the precipice. They had neared the top, a thin flat surface that bent around the section of the ravine that was Latheon Gorge. What lay before Yuan was like a bowl, almost a miniature basin before it cut off sharply into the deepest ravine in all of Symphonia.
The stony bridge was ancient, built so long ago that neither country could remember who constructed it. It was one of the wonders of the world, seemingly a perfect example of fine architecture as tons of smooth stone spanned the deep ravine. Yuan was never one to study such things, but the magnitude and beauty of such a project was not lost on him. He could view the grey stone, seamlessly crafted into the cliff-side, gently arching across the abyss. It was wide for a bridge, but nevertheless narrow for an army. Yuan's eyes scoured the retreating Tethe'allan lines, finding their point of convergence at the bridge itself.
Kratos and the Sylvaranti trailed along the river side at a fairly calm pace. It was rather peaceful, and his so-called 'captors' were quiet. Perhaps they were uneasy while in Tethe'allan territory, or not very talkative to begin with, but Kratos found the silence quite agreeable. His eyes found themselves sizing up his newest opponents. They weren't really that threatening. The few he'd knocked out had finally awoken and were occasionally darting cautious gazes at him, but aside from them he went ignored by the rest of the party. They were making an escape seem too easy.
After walking for several hours, the commander must have decided that they put enough distance between themselves and Meltokio, because he stopped.
"We'll break for lunch here and rest up a bit. God knows we'll be seeing plenty of action soon enough." He turned to face the rest of his group, a sort of anticipation ringing through his voice. Several Sylvaranti murmured in agreement, and Kratos verified his earlier assumption of their destination. As a few troops began to unpack cooking supplies, though, he was reminded of another problem.
When had he last eaten?
Even after discovering his lack of appetite, Kratos had decided he would eat at regular intervals. It would do no good to pass out from malnourishment despite the fact he didn't feel hunger. Apparently that plan had slipped his mind. He'd been so busy, Kratos didn't recall eating since- since a day ago? Two days? He hadn't eaten this morning because of his infiltration into Meltokio, and he'd spent the entire day before traveling. He had gone a day and a half without even thinking about food. He'd been fighting and exerting himself too, without any feelings of inadequacy. Perhaps he could go completely without eating? Theoretically that shouldn't be possible, yet he had no evidence to the contrary. Kratos was stumped. What was the Cruxis Crystal doing to his body structure? Xilia said she would look into it, but he wasn't sure when he'd be getting back to her- if at all. He wasn't supposed to exert himself until then. He snorted to himself at the irony of the situation, he'd done little else than work straight through both day and night.
Glancing down at his gloved left hand, Kratos couldn't feel any discomfort. Only residual scratches from his mountain-climbing incident at Mount Fooji bothered him, and those had scabbed over by now. The exsphere was working perfectly with his battle reflexes so far. He supposed whatever was going to happen would just have to at this point. He couldn't really do anything about it at the moment, and holding back wasn't an option.
Kratos leaned heavily against a tree and slid into a sitting position in the weedy reeds close to the water. He exhaled softly. No matter the exsphere, traveling this much in a week was definitely not healthy. He stretched his limbs a bit, wincing at the soreness in his shoulder. It was getting better, though that might take much more time. Kratos cracked his knuckles, and realized that a Sylvaranti was making his way over to his location. He was still somewhat in the center of the group, so they weren't worried about him running off. A tray of food in the soldier's hand made his purpose clear enough. The man must've been young, a little over twenty perhaps, and he was fairly kind in his offer of food. Kratos nearly accepted, but swiftly changed his mind.
"That's okay, I'm not hungry," Kratos shook his head. How would he eat without removing his helmet? He'd much rather take a risk with his strange food-problem than with the potential dilemma that might surface with recognition. If he could last a day and a half without any problems, a while longer couldn't hurt. Unfortunately a look of concern flashed over the man's face.
"You should eat; we'll travel for a couple more hours after this." The man nudged the tray at him again.
"No, it's fine." He shook his head again. Apparently the commander was listening, having set down a couple of yards to the right.
"You're not doing any good by starving yourself. There's no noble resistance in that." Kratos almost rolled his eyes. They thought he was resisting? Any further denying would seem even more suspicious, so he accepted the plate. It sat for a moment on his lap before the commander glanced in his direction.
"Just eat already, we've got to get moving soon!" Kratos twitched slightly. There was no way to avoid it. Grudgingly, he raised his hands to remove his helmet. He smoothly slipped off the metal encasement and set it beside him, hoping that no Sylvaranti saw the need to scrutinize him. He kept his head down and was about to begin eating when a soldier spoke out.
"He can't be more than sixteen!" An incredulous voice pointed out, and Kratos' head jerked up at the accusation. Too late.
"Since when could Tethe'allans become Knights that young?" Another questioned. Kratos saw all pairs of eyes glued on him, and he jumped to his own defense.
"I'm eighteen!" He lied defiantly. The commander caught sight of his face, though, and his eyes narrowed immediately.
"Damn!" He cursed, throwing his hands up in the air, "Dammit all! You're not even a Knight are you?" Now he was right in Kratos' face. Kratos didn't flinch, but filled his glare with as much venom as he could muster. It was obvious that the man recalled their last encounter.
"And you're not a Royal Courier, either." Kratos shot back, standing up from a sitting position. A smirk caught on the other's face.
"No, I'm not. Now, what the hell is going on here? Give me one reason not to kill you now!" Kratos cursed himself for being caught in this position. Dying didn't fit into his agenda. He had to come up with a believable story quick.
"I work with the Sybak Research Institute, and I know just as much about Tethe'allan battle tactics as any Knight from Meltokio would." Kratos stood rigidly.
"Is that so?" The commander eyed him doubtfully.
"I also know we're headed to Latheon Gorge, and the specifics of mana weapons recently developed for that region." Kratos was digging deep now. If the hostile expression of the man in front of him was anything to go by, it wasn't deep enough.
"We'll see about that." Searching steely eyes considered his own. Kratos was prepared to jump into action to defend himself, he still had the dagger in his boot, but if conflict could be avoided it would be best. A small dagger didn't have as much reach as a sword, and the number of assailants would already put him at a disadvantage. The dark-haired man's expression seemed satisfied for the moment, but he tugged Kratos arm and pulled him in front.
"Whatever it is you know, we'll find out at the Gorge. We've wasted enough time already." Kratos exhaled sharply. Safe for now. All of the soldiers hastily grabbed their half-unpacked equipment and followed suit. Kratos thought he'd gotten off scotch-free, until he heard a murmured command behind him.
"Bind his arms. If he's not a Knight, I don't know where he got that damn training. Someone his age shouldn't have been able to take out two of our soldiers in an ambush in the dark. I don't want to take any chances." Kratos stiffened slightly as he felt his arms being pulled behind him. This day just kept getting better. He supposed he was lucky that none knew he was Tethe'allan royalty, but really the odds just never fell in his favor. Perhaps some good might come of visiting the Gorge, though. Optimism wasn't really his thing, but if he wanted to stop the war completely, he'd have to see the worst of the battle.
He did his best work with a handicap anyway.
(A/N) Thanks for reading! As always feel free to point out typos/constructive criticism/etc. Update coming soon!