A/N: I apologize for the slight delay in posting today. Please enjoy!
Chapter 61: Press Forward, To The Tower!
Dreamer and company emerged into an empty hall. The distinct sounds of war cries and screaming could be heard beyond the wall. It was reassuring to the group, because it meant that the Excalibur Family was there, backing them up.
"Which way?" Piper asked, while he tore his powder-blue suit jacket and bow tie off. Formal-wear wasn't exactly ideal for battle.
"Toward the tower!" Dreamer answered.
Gajeel sniffed the air again. "I can follow her scent now. That way!"
They ran along the hall. The occasional glimmer of something small and pink on the ground assured them that they were on the right path. Syllest had been brought this way. She had been crying.
"What do you think he meant?" Dreamer asked, as she led the pack alongside Macbeth. "What do you think Jacque meant when he said they'd already started the process?"
Macbeth shook his head.
"It likely means that Resmond has begun the process of activating the Nikolana Device, dear me!"
"I t'ouhgt it was trapped in diamond or something! How's he gonna activate the thing if it's boxed up and sealed tight?"
"It doesn't matter," Macbeth snapped, uncharacteristically loudly. They fell silent behind him. He was right. What mattered was saving Syllestra. The rest was just details.
Another door at the end of the hall opened up into the courtyard of the ruins. They were met immediately by the sight of dozens of people locked in battle before them. Tattooed Excalibur Family thugs were throwing brass knuckles at men bearing black diamond necklaces. It was not just a battle of brawn, either. The undeniable sense of magical energy spiking from both sides filled the air. It was a confusing explosion of noise and violence. The sounds of war.
It took them a moment to orient themselves before Pantherlily pointed to their right. "There's the tower!"
There was an entrance only about thirty yards away, but they'd have to shove through the fight to get there.
"Stay close," Macbeth said, as he clutched Dreamer's hand and began to zigzag through the chaos.
"Make a path!" yelled Terrence Excalibur, as he released an unconscious slave from a chokehold. Within moments, a group of tattooed thugs had pushed the battle to the sidelines, leaving a perfect path toward the tower doors.
"For honor!" Jezran shouted as they pushed through.
"For Family!" came the resounding response.
It was a clear shot. The door, less than thirty yards in front of them, nothing to block their way. And beyond that door was Syllestra—so close and so far from them. Just a little farther…
There was a fluttering of white feathers, followed by the click of heels connecting with stone. She had dropped down from the roof above, to land elegantly in front of them—between them and the door. A tan woman in a dress made from white feathers, cut low on her stomach to reveal excessive cleavage, tattooed wings on her collarbone, and another of the black diamond necklaces, it's evil pendant resting between her large breasts. Her silvery hair was adorned with a blue bow, separating the line of her bangs from the longer part of her hair. A strangely shaped cowlick atop her head resembled a halo.
"Sorano."
"Midnight."
The two of them glowered at one another. Pale purple eyes on swirling red.
"Hey, ain't that one of your old buddies, Mac?" Piper asked. "Maybe she's on our side!"
"No," Macbeth said, never looking away from her. "She's here to stop us."
Sorano cocked her head to the side and shrugged her shoulders. Her blue gloves outstretched toward the sky. "You're not wrong, Midnight." There was the hint of a cruel smirk on her features, but it was tainted with pain—regret.
"Sorano, please let us through!" Dreamer stepped forward, her hand still clenched in Macbeth's. "We have to save Syllest!"
Sorano held up a hand, blocking her line of sight to Dreamer. "Don't waste your energy, sweetie," she said. "I won't be charmed by you."
The two ex-members of the Oracion Seis continued to stare at each other, expressions grim.
"Look at what you did to us, Midnight…" The pain and sorrow was evident in her expression. "You disbanded the Seis. You broke our family." Betrayal in her sneer. Her eyes glistened with tears that reflected years of companionship—years in dark prisons, clutching onto one another as the only life rafts in a sea of despair. It may have been a sorry excuse for a life, but it was spent together, the Oracion Seis invincible, unbreakable. And now… "All for some girl and her surrogate mother?"
"No," Macbeth responded, evenly. He didn't blink, even as a breeze tossed his hair in front of his eyes, simultaneously ruffling the feathers on her dress. "I did it for my freedom."
The woman cringed at his words. She outstretched her arms and kept her expression firm, though tears clung to her long lashes. "I must stand for my freedom. You understand that, don't you, Midnight?"
"What's up with all you crazy chicks thinkin' Res is gonna give you's anything?" Piper interjected.
"Shut up!" Without warning, she'd thrust a ball of white light in his direction. He narrowly dodged. Macbeth didn't even flinch. "The King promised me my freedom! He promised me that I would finally… become an angel." Her palms began to collect light.
"Sorano…" Macbeth took one step forward, his posture rigid, eyes narrowed threateningly. "I don't want to watch you suffer."
She swallowed nervously at the sight of him approaching, his shadow looming forward. It took her back to a time when they lived in cells in an experimental lab—when Zero would pit Midnight against the others to test his strength. The nightmares she'd endured at the hands of her friend…
"But if you continue to stand in the way of my freedom," his voice was a low hiss, "then I'll send you to a place far, far away from any angels."
Sorano took a step back, knowing him well enough to know this was a promise—not an empty threat.
"Macbeth…" Dreamer squeezed his hand. "You can't waste your energy on her. If we find Resmond…"
Sorano held her ground, though she was shaking. "I will protect my freedom just as strongly as you protect yours!"
"Fool!" Macbeth's grip on Dreamer's hand tightened painfully as he bared his teeth at the other woman. "Are you really that stupid? Do you really think your freedom will come from taking away the freedom of others? What about the little girl, trapped in that tower, Sorano? What about her freedom?"
The imagery was meant to bring to her attention more than Syllestra. It was a sickening sense of deja vue, a broken little girl, trapped in a dark tower… She was more than familiar with this story.
Sorano clenched her teeth. "That whelp means nothing to me."
"What if someone said that about your sister?" He snapped back, instantly. "If her life was in the hands of someone like you, would you value that person's freedom like you do yours now?"
Her eyes went wide. The tears finally breached the boundary. "How dare you bring her into this?"
"Move, Sorano," he warned again, "or I will make you relive a nightmare for an eternity, watching poor Yukino die in every way you can possibly imagine—"
Before he could finish, Sorano cried out in surprise. She looked down to find her wrists had been magically bound.
"Ten link chain," Piper said, stepping forward. "I like my odds against this babe."
"Pipe—"
"Go on! Get the hell out of here and save Syllest!" he snapped. He was rolling up the cuffs of his shirt. "I can handle angel-cheeks on my own."
Dreamer watched him for a brief moment, as he approached the bound woman, dice in one clenched fist. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me, doll." He pushed Sorano away from the door by the shoulders. "Jus' do me a solid and kick Resmond's ass for me."
Macbeth was already dragging her toward the door.
"NO!" Sorano cried out. Light energy grew around her wrists until the chain broke. She lunged toward the others, but Piper blocked her with his magical roulette table.
"Aw, come on, angel!" he said. "What are the odds you's and me have a real good time together?"
Gajeel smacked Piper on the shoulder as he ran by, silently wishing him the best of luck. Pantherlily flew quickly afterward, leaving Piper and Sorano face-to-face in the courtyard—the battle still raging around them.
Piper watched them leave for only a brief instant, his eyes lingering on Dreamer's dress before its tail vanished in the doorway. Then he turned to face his opponent, putting his back to the door.
"You just did me a favor, doll. I needed an excuse to get the hell away from those two lovebirds, know what I mean? I mean, really? Who the hell holds hands while there's a goddamn war goin' on?"
Sorano did not look the slightest bit amused by Piper's gibes.
"They'll never stop him," she said, darkly. "The King… He's a hundred times stronger than Zero ever was. Not even Midnight stands a chance against him."
"Keep talkin' to me about chances, babe," he grinned toothily at her. "I digs it."
"Tch." She got into a battle stance. "Vermin." A cocky smirk settled on her lips. "I suppose I can't blame you for wanting to die at the hands of a beautiful woman."
His emerald eyes boldly scanned over her chest. "Well hey, there are worse ways to die." He cracked his neck. "But so's you's know, I ain't plannin' on kicking the bucket today."
The Storage Room:
Two wizards, who specialized in snakes, posed silently in the pitch darkness.
Erik closed his eyes. There was no need for them at all down here. He focused his magical energy on listening. He could hear almost everything. Every creak of floorboards in the building—every scrape of mice paws on stone—every shout, every crunch of bone and splattering of blood from the battle above them. He could hear his friends facing an opponent at the door to the tower. He could hear everything that was not tainted with the dark energy from the black diamonds.
He could not hear Giseld.
Somehow, even her steps were masked by the magic. Her breathing. Her movements in the dark. He could hear none of it. Only when she spoke did he know where she stood.
"Pest," she hissed, dragging out the 's.' "If I didn't have to waste my time playing with you, I could be at my King's side right now…"
He jumped toward her voice, slamming his fist hard through a wooden crate. "That so?" He corrected himself and listened again. To the hissing of the snakes around him. The slithering scales. He could differentiate between the snakes that she'd summoned, and the ones crafted from magical energy. The difference was in the tiny heartbeat, the sound of souls obeying their master.
"I'm his Queen, you know," she pointed out, from the opposite side of the room.
"Could have fooled me." He dodged the strike of a cobra while simultaneously batting three blades out of the air that had been aimed at his head. "I was under the impression you're on the lowest rung of henchmen here."
"Excuse me?!" She hissed loudly, baited into action. She was in front of him instantly, moving to kick his side. He blocked and delivered an elbow to her sternum. She retaliated quickly by scratching her sharp claws across his side, tearing fabric. They leapt away from one another, knocking over boxes in the process. "How dare you suggest that I am anything less than his beloved bride?"
"It's not like I give a shit," he said back, "but I think most men don't send their brides to fight in cold cellars. Shouldn't you be sipping chardonnay on a throne somewhere?"
"The insolence!" Three more knives thrown in the dark.
He could hear the whistle as they sliced the air, and moved easily out of their trajectory. He heard them thud into a crate behind him, splintering wood.
This is annoying as hell, he thought, as he tried to listen for any sign of where she would strike next. His hearing alone would convince him he was alone in a room full of snakes. It was that stupid necklace.
Master, Master. Master. She's our master.
That was all he could hear from the snakes on the floor. A repetitive chorus of servitude. It was just extra noise, distracting him from his primary target.
He grunted in pain as a sharp heel connected with his thigh.
"You wouldn't know the first thing about royalty, you peasant," she snapped.
He heard the snakes slither quickly away from the spot she was going to land. He met her there with another hard punch. They were locked into melee combat yet again, a flurry of fists and kicks in the darkness—knocking over crates and barrels and chairs, slipping on the backs of unfortunate snakes.
"You're right about that," he said, wiping blood from his lip as they parted once more. "And I'm not one to judge your screwed up relationship. If being treated like garbage by a man is what you're into, then you've got it all figured out."
Keep her talking. If I can keep her angry and keep her talking, I won't lose her.
"His Majesty is a perfect gentleman!"
He pounced, but was blocked with a hard kick. He took another scratch, to the neck this time, so that he could reach for the necklace he knew she wore. If he could just get it off…
His grip was blind. He thought for a moment that he felt his fingertips meet the chain, so he tried to clasp his hand around it. He was shocked when his palm squished something soft instead.
"AH! What are you doing?! Pervert?!"
A hand smacked him across the face in the dark, making him stumble backward.
"Sorry! I wasn't trying to—I was just—" He flicked his wrist, as if he'd just touched something foul.
"How dare you grope a betrothed woman?!"
"Hey, I wasn't trying to grope you, trust me." An embarrassed scowl touched his cheeks in the dark.
"Are you saying I'm not curvy enough to be groped?" She sounded even more offended by this.
"What the hell? No, I—"
Before he could finish, there was a sharp sensation in his forearm. He cried out in pain as fangs sank deep into his skin. He ripped the snake off of his arm by its tail, causing his skin to tear in the process.
Dammit! She tricked me!
He stumbled back and stepped on another snake. This one sank its fangs into his ankle.
"This is too easy!" Giseld's mocking laugh filled the dark room. "Really, who could possibly stand a chance against all of my pets in an environment like this? You were doomed from the moment you chose to challenge me, peasant!"
Erik smirked through the pain. Then began to laugh.
Giseld's slit eyes gleamed green in the dark. "What's so funny? You've been bitten by two of my most venomous darling pets! You're going to die here, and that's funny?"
"You really think a snake bite is going to kill me?" He strode forward, totally unfazed. "You mean you haven't figured out who you're up against, yet?"
He listened to the sound of a snake coiling around something—likely her leg. He leapt forward and this time aimed true. His fingers closed around a pendant on the end of a necklace. She gasped in surprise.
"I'm Cobra, the poison-dragon slayer." He moved to yank the necklace, but she brought her knee up hard into his gut and barely managed to pull away from him before he could tear it away. He flicked his wrist, as if this was only a minor annoyance.
"Poison… slayer?"
"Yeah, that's right." He touched the bleeding wound on his arm. "Which means I'm immune to your 'pets.'"
"You… But—"
"Poison Dragon Scales!" He swung his arms, sending scale-shaped masses of poison in her direction.
Now the real fight begins.
A/N: In true Fairy Tail fashion, I had to have at least one scene with accidental boob groping. xD I guess that technically makes two for this fic.