HEALER, KILLER
By Amanda Swiftgold
BOOK ONE: DRAGOON SPIRITS GATHER
Chapter Eight
A maze of hallways connected the great hall with other rooms of the palace, and the side door the four Dragoons had taken was leading them through one of these short, dark corridors. Unlike the huge, brightly-lit dwelling of Melbu Frahma in Kadessa, Lord Diaz's 'palace', although large for Vellweb, was just one more tall stone-brown building. What was being built on top of it was much more important - the platform for the construction of one of the gigantic spear-shooters was located above, but at the moment it was hard to reach directly from inside.
Shirley was leading the way with Kanzas beside her, one hand on the wall of the hallway to help guide her steps. She hadn't expected it to be so dark, but the torches once lit here had since gone out; with most of the houseservants home celebrating tonight, no one had come by to light them again. Behind them, Zieg and Rose were murmuring together as they walked, their voices mixed with low laughter, and she decided it was probably less embarrassing that she couldn't see them.
To the left through a half-open door, however, she could see a low light, obviously moonlight shining through a window. There were new voices speaking from inside, and she frowned as they walked past it, wondering who it was. Not everyone was really supposed to have access to these hallways.
"Just a moment…" Her curiosity getting the better of her, she let go of Kanzas' hand and paused, leaning against the wall and pretending to adjust the lace of her shoe, which wound around her ankle. Despite giving her a vaguely curious glance, he kept on going, and she let the other two pass by before peeking in through the gap.
"-you need is rest," the female voice was saying quietly.
Shirley recognized it immediately; awkwardness flooded through her as she also recognized the next voice, Lord Diaz answering, "There is not much time to rest, anymore."
Their shapes became clear in the dimness of a little-used sitting room, Mille seated composedly on a long bench near the window, her hands folded in her lap, the nobleman pacing near a banked fireplace. "But if you are unwell," she protested, somehow making it sound as if she hardly disagreed with him.
"My food doesn't sit well, that is all," the lord answered, waving it off as unimportance. Shaking his head and smiling gently, he turned back toward his wife, catching up her hands in his own. "You are the one who should rest, Mille. You must take care of the child."
"I am resting, my lord," Mille told him, her voice holding laughter in it, "just as you asked. Please, do sit down - your eyes are so dark, it's strange."
Less firmly now, Diaz murmured, "It's the bad light here. The military meetings are tomorrow; I have to discuss with Tibero…" Whatever he saw in her face seemed to make him give in, and he knelt down slowly, shaking his head and blinking in the dimness. "You are right, I…should just rest a little, that's all. Just rest…" Leaning his head on her knee, he gave a sigh, though he bit his lip immediately afterward to try to hide it.
Nodding, Mille rested her hand on his head, her own light brown eyes drifting closed as if involuntarily. The Dragoon could hear her humming softly, the tune becoming recognizable as a hymn to the Goddess Miranda.
Embarrassed for listening this long, Shirley clung to the doorframe, trying to force herself to leave. It was heartrending to see Diaz like this instead of with his usual quiet confidence, and her lady's song to her patron goddess seemed almost…mournful somehow, and so different from the loud, happy tunes the people were singing in the great hall. They would not expect this - and would be as disheartened by their leader's fatigue as she, rather shamefully, was right now.
Knowing she wasn't supposed to be there, she was glad when Kanzas came up quietly behind her, tugging on her arm to pull her away after he too gave the room a quick glance. Flushing a bit, she proceeded down the rest of the hallway to the others, who, thankfully, didn't ask why she hadn't followed them.
They headed for the upper levels of the palace, recognized and allowed to pass by the few and rather bad-tempered guards who hadn't been excused from duty. The rooms up here contained the lord's personal chambers and the quarters for important guests, and one area at the end of the hallway also contained a strange room, its purpose unfathomable to those who didn't know what the construction on the roof was going to be.
Since Belzac and Syuveil were already in the platform room, there should have been no one else in the corridor at the moment, which was why the sound of a stray footstep on the stone floor startled the four Dragoons, making them spin around quickly. The sight of the Wingly standing there, almost directly behind them, instantly dampened the lighthearted mood as they reacted to her presence.
"Now don't you just look precious?" Fara drawled as if she hadn't noticed their anger and disquiet, reaching out languorously to pluck one of the dried flowers from the pins holding back Shirley's hair. Twirling it between her fingers, she leaned her head back, looking down her nose at them. "All dressed up for a party that, I may mention, I was not invited to."
"What do you take us for?" Zieg retorted hotly, waving his arm in a slashing motion as Shirley frowned, reaching unconsciously toward her pins. "You'd just insult our customs, Wingly. And what are you doing here, anyway - uninvited?"
She clucked her tongue in mock-reproach, brushing an invisible speck from the fine weave of her burgundy overdress. "Such harshness, child…what's the matter, did I interrupt you?" she laughed, flicking her dark-red eyes across the four of them. "Running off for a little celebrating of your own?"
Before any of the others could respond, Kanzas crossed his arms and told her, "You aren't invited to that, either."
"Kanzas!" Shirley hissed, giving his forearm a warning pinch; she immediately bit back a yelp as he pinched her back, albeit fairly gently. What's gotten into you? she thought at him petulantly. The white-haired woman's blatant insults were a bit unnerving to her as well, as she'd previously treated the ruling Humans in Vellweb with only rather polite contempt.
Fara gave them a sneer as she watched. She obviously recognized the man from their previous meeting, but she deliberately ignored him now, turning her attention back to Zieg. "You're missing your little poppet, I see. No, don't look confused. I mean that poor Wingly-blooded girl you've trained to speak rebellion…"
"If you weren't so busy squinting down at us from your high horse," Rose broke in, her voice cool and even, "you would notice that Damia isn't Wingly-blood at all, Fara, and no concern of yours."
For a moment there was a hesitant stillness, but then she lifted the stolen flower in her hand as if to breathe in its lingering scent, the dried petals hiding her warped smile, her eyes resting only on the blonde Human and not the one who'd spoken. "Poor Zieg…such a proud freeman, and the only woman you can come up with is Melbu Frahma's castoff whore."
Shirley felt horror descend on her, twisting her heart with the burn of unaccustomed hatred. Before she even had a chance to glance over at Rose, the Fire Dragoon had lurched forward, his face red with rage. "I'm gonna kill you for that!" he cried, fists clenched tightly.
"Oh, will you? I think you'll find someone else ends up dead-" The Wingly danced back from Zieg smugly as he swung, and a moment later the red-haired woman went after him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders in an attempt to drag him back. She wasn't surprised that Kanzas made no move to help, but wondered why he didn't all the same.
"Please, Zieg!" Shirley whispered near his ear, feeling her feet slide along and up off the floor as he tried to move forward again. "She's horrible, but it'll ruin everything if you-!" For a moment she knew she wasn't going to be able to hold him back, and then Rose stepped forward, laying her hand on her lover's arm. As Shirley let him go, he stood back reluctantly, his teeth still bared in a snarl.
"There's no need to avenge my honor," she told him, blue eyes boring into the Wingly's momentarily, and then a small smile curved her lips when he turned to meet her gaze. "Her words are meant to wound, but they're just words, and they can't hurt me."
The door at the end of the hall suddenly swung open, Belzac and Syuveil appearing in the entrance. Unable to restrain a soft growl of anger, Fara crushed the dried flower in her hand, letting the papery petals drift to the floor as with her other hand she traced a sigil. Kanzas tensed noticeably as its light flared in the dimness, but as it faded and nothing happened, Shirley realized that she had tried to teleport away.
Unable to do so inside Gloriano's walls, a defensive magic placed on the city by Charle Frahma, Fara realized she was being blocked by a stronger power than her own and spun on her heel. "Traitors everywhere, I see," she sneered, forced instead to stalk away in a rather undignified manner. They let her go without further comment, watching until she had disappeared into the shadows around the nearby corner.
"Zieg?" the half-Giganto asked curiously, taking in the scene behind them. "That shouting, was that you?"
"What was Fara doing here?" Syuveil echoed, scratching his head in unaccustomed confusion.
The others turned to face the newcomers, Rose and Zieg remaining in their half-embrace. Kanzas stared at them, eyes narrowed. Though he didn't know why, something in him despised their love, their quiet assurances.
"She was just being spiteful - but it's all right now," Shirley told them, straightening out her dress.
"And we still can't kill her yet?" Kanzas murmured to himself. More loudly, he said in a pointed tone, "As much as I'd like to stand here forever…"
Finally letting go of Rose, Zieg heaved a sigh, looking down pensively. "All right, let's just get this over with. I'm warning you now, I'm not that good at doing this, but hopefully it'll give us some kind of answer as to where the Blue Sea bearer is."
"What I'd like to know is what you're going to do, actually," Belzac mused as the Dragoons all entered the platform room, waiting to close and latch the door behind them. "Do you just…read the positions of the stars or something?"
The room itself was rather large, filled with what were obviously materials for construction. However, they weren't only the normal piles of stone and components for mixing mortar; shards of some kind of brightly-colored mineral sparkled in the light of the fluttering torches Belzac and Syuveil had lit and placed in sconces on the wall. Large windows were cut in the room's far wall, the gaps left open to let in the cold outside air and display a view of the night sky spread out over the city, stars twinkling in the darkness.
Pulling down one of the torches, the blonde Southlander handed it to Rose. He shook his head at Belzac as he gestured the group into a corner of the room that was slightly more out of the chill. "Nothing as scholarly as that. I just sort of…ask them. It's more, well…" he tried to explain, rolling his eyes upward as he fought for the words. "Well, I'd call it Humans' magic, actually. It's something my clan in the Southlands has practiced for a long, long time. It's nothing like what the Winglies do, but it's magic all the same."
"I've never heard of anything like that before," Belzac answered slowly. "I don't doubt you, Zieg, but…"
"Well, I've heard tales," Shirley put in thoughtfully. "Someone who loses one sense, like sight or hearing, somehow occasionally develops another kind of…unnatural sense. I'd call that magic."
Kanzas cleared his throat suddenly, turned away from them. "Knew a man once," he mumbled, watching the sky through the wide window. Suddenly, as if noticing they were waiting for him to go on, he turned his head, eyes almost glowing in the light of the veined moon. "Just like Diaz for making freedom speeches, so the Winglies cut out his tongue to stop that. But, eventually, it got so we could kind of hear what he was saying in our heads. Whisper, we called him. Weren't we so clever?"
This must be one of the other slaves he mentioned, the ones in Aglis, Shirley thought, placing her hand against his back as if for comfort. However, he shrugged to shake it off, and reluctantly she let it fall to her side.
Otherwise ignoring her, Kanzas went on testily, "Anyway, he had earth affinity, so he must have had Giganto blood, and you know how they are with magic. A real Human could probably do it better."
Belzac, without meaning to - and just as Kanzas intended - tensed up in offense, his eyes narrowing. Sensing the other Dragoon's anger, Syuveil coughed slightly into his hand and said, "Well, Zieg, why don't you just show us what you mean?"
"Um…okay," he replied reluctantly, unusually nervous thanks to his friends' interested scrutiny. "Astrology's much easier when I can actually see the stars, which is why Lord Diaz sent us up here, I think. Though I could speak to them in daylight if I needed to…I guess that's where the magic comes in." Clearing his throat, Zieg held out his hands before him, palms down. "Rose is going to help me," he explained. "My element will help me focus."
Arranging the fall of her pale feathery skirt as she knelt down near his feet, Rose then lifted the torch he'd given her beneath his hands with all the solemnity of a priestess at a ritual. "Go ahead," she whispered to him, her ivory skin colored by the warm glow.
Hazel eyes closing, Zieg frowned in concentration before spreading his hands outward; a shimmering plane of fire followed, the flame pulled in a sheet and almost liquid, so that it seemed to drip from the edges toward the ground. Standing up and drawing back, Rose placed the torch back in its sconce, turning to watch her fiancé.
In the unfinished room's darkness, the white sparkle of stars shone extra brightly, hovering above the film of fire. The constellations they formed were familiar, but they glowed with intensity unmatched in the sky above. The man, his eyes still tightly shut, began to move his lips, speaking soundlessly as his friends watched, occasionally looking at one another as if to ask what was happening. A minute dragged by as Zieg consulted the heavens, trying to find a clue to where their final member was located.
"Look!" Belzac said suddenly, pointing toward the window hole. Mirrored by the spray of white hovering in front of Zieg, two streaks of light flew across the sky, their paths meeting. Only one, however, continued its descent, seeming by a trick of perspective to fall into the city itself.
Frowning, Syuveil brushed his bangs from his view and muttered, "That's not…right…"
Letting out a gasp, Zieg suddenly relaxed his hands, the sheet of fire fading away with a faint hiss. "Why did they do that?" he demanded of no one in particular, wiping his fingers absently on his pants.
"You'd know that better than us," Rose informed him quietly, her expression neutral. "What did they tell you?"
He sighed, shaking his head. "I told you I wasn't very good at this. The stars spoke to me, but I didn't understand much of what they were saying. I think, though - I think they meant the Blue Sea bearer is here, in Vellweb."
"Was that the falling star, then?" Kanzas put in. "There were two of them. Hard to believe they'd snuff out their lanterns just to, heh, give you directions."
"Then it could be Shynn?" Syuveil insisted, catching on the hope in the statement rather than Kanzas' pessimism. "The spirit could accept him after all."
Zieg shrugged, glancing at the others briefly. "It could," he told the Jade Dragoon carefully. "At least it means that we don't have to leave to search, for now."
Shirley sighed, clasping the necklace of her Dragoon Spirit in her hands. "I wish I could be of more help, but I haven't felt anyone drawing me lately, I'm sorry. Not since - well, a while," she amended lamely, not wanting to bring up the events of the past couple of weeks. "And any of you…?"
"Nothing," Belzac told her unhappily, his sentiment echoed by the others. He scowled, rubbing the knuckles of one large hand. "This is very strange, but we do have a place to start."
"Yes, I didn't completely waste your time," Zieg chuckled. "Well," he said to Rose with nearly-false brightness, relieved it was over, "I think everyone's still enjoying themselves downstairs, and I'm not ready to turn in yet."
She made a face, thinking about it, and then agreed, "I suppose I could go back for a while."
"Shirley?" Belzac asked, watching as she glanced toward the door. "You weren't thinking of bed yet, were you?"
Giving him a smile, she returned, "No, not yet. We can go, too…" However, her gaze was focused across the room, her hesitation a question.
Painfully forcing himself to swallow, the half-Giganto murmured, "I'll wait for you in the hall." He hated the flickering glimpses of pity Zieg and Rose cast his way, brushing past them to go out first. I know what they'd tell me, but they don't understand, even if they mean well. This is my problem.
"Kanzas, a moment," Syuveil said suddenly as he entered her view, holding out his hand as if to stop the other man from going and then gesturing him aside. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I remember that you seemed interested in my studies when we met."
He remembered as well, the scholar having mentioned something about trying to discern the nature of life and death and the afterlife, something that interested him a great deal. "Yeah," he answered warily, "I was - am."
Nodding, pleased, he went on, "I plan to do an investigation tomorrow, and the assistance would be most helpful, if you can spare the time. This sort of study doesn't much agree with Shynn, and it will be difficult to begin on my own."
Dragging himself from surprise into the reality of the moment, Kanzas found himself slowly nodding his head without even wondering what it was Syuveil would need his help with. "Sure, I haven't got anything better to do."
"Thank you, friend. I'll meet you tomorrow morning, then," he said with a quick smile before slipping out the door.
The Violet Dragoon stared after him, an odd disbelieving expression crossing his face. As the others started to leave as well, Kanzas instead jumped up onto the ledge of one of the window cutouts, curling down to balance with his hands and looking out over the huge bare platform just beyond. His thoughts were once again confused. I can't let - I know what I have to do - have to keep doing. What I wantto do. Where will their friendship be when they learn? There are no 'friends', not anymore. They died in agony, screaming, Divine Tree keep them keep them-
Turning to look back over her shoulder, Shirley crossed her arms for warmth and asked him without surprise, "Staying here, then?"
He didn't reply until a moment before she moved to go find Belzac. "Hey, Shirley?" he asked suddenly, staring upward once more. "D'you think that…maybe they would forgive me if…"
"They who?" she prompted when he stopped talking once more. He looked like some gargoyle crouching like that, his borrowed white tunic shining in the light like a stone skin. "Forgive you for what?"
"Shirley?" Belzac broke in; he'd abruptly decided to come back for her and now just tapped her upper arm gently, his golden-brown hair fluttering in the breeze. He quite consciously ignored the other man, instead looking down at his friend's pensive face. "Are you coming?"
Kanzas blew out a hard breath of air, watching the mist curl around him in the cold. "Never mind," he told her, his tone suddenly growing harsh. "Just go back downstairs and leave me alone."
She paused, as if searching for a retort, but there was nothing. He smiled then, but only a little, as she turned sharply - and left him alone.
The upper halls of the palace were filled with pale daylight by the time anyone stirred the next morning - and most of the servants were waking painfully, their heads throbbing with hangovers, throats dry and stomachs queasy from the overindulgence of the night before.
A young maid, stopping for a moment in the corridor, braced her hand against the wall and yawned widely. Finally, she straightened herself and knocked on the nearby door. Though she too was suffering from last night, she still had tasks to do.
When no answer came from within the room, she paused before trying the latch. As the door came open, she peered in warily before sidling her way into the darkened chamber - and, just a minute later, ran out again crying for help, all the color gone from her face. A small creased scrap of paper fell from the maid's hand as she scurried down the hallway, the message she'd been asked to deliver forgotten.
As it landed, it slowly unfolded, revealing only blank parchment inside.
"This," Syuveil was saying in sonorous tones, his scalpel poised, "is but one part of the study of life and death."
"Right," Kanzas answered blithely, eyeing the cadaver of the white ape on the examination table. "The part without all the books."
Outside, day was ending, the green marble dome that topped the Jade Dragoon's tower glinting warmly in the fading golden sunlight. The two had been out in the snowfields much earlier in search of one of the wild northern apes that dwelt there, and it had been a bit of work to apprehend the creature without damaging it too much, not to mention hauling it back to Vellweb and to the upper city afterward.
They were both sunburned and tired; however, Syuveil couldn't put off his examination of the body for very long, as it was already becoming rigid around the jaw, and in the heat of the tower room the stiffness would only spread. He'd donned a leather apron to protect his tunic, wielding a wide array of instruments in order to find out how the ape worked. Giving Kanzas a quick grin, he commented, "Books give you a foundation, but true knowledge is gained only through practice."
Standing at the corner of the table, Kanzas gave a sharp nod in return, watching curiously but with a degree of wariness showing on his face. He'd agreed to stay, though Syuveil had excused him if he'd wanted, but he hadn't expected to feel this edgy. The emotion was unfamiliar enough that he was half-convinced it didn't exist at all - and yet he knew its source all the same.
Scattered around the free edges of the slab were papers and books, diagrams of anatomy drawn and labeled in the scholar's neat script. Though he couldn't understand the Wingly glyphs he wrote in, the sketches of muscular structure, of veins and tubing and organs, were quite clear. Piles of the matted grayish fur which had been shorn away had sifted to his feet, and the ape's chest cavity was opened wide to reveal inner systems very similar to those of the Human figure on the paper.
"It's amazing; it's so like us, and yet not at all." Gesturing with his chin to the diagram, Syuveil carefully cut away a small yellow-white sac from the inside of the abdomen, raising it up to the light of the candles nearby. "Case in point: an unidentified organ," he announced, putting it carefully into a small jar of strong-smelling preservative. "However, Wingly anatomy shows overdeveloped glands that may play a part in the casting of magic. As most creatures can do the same, to a limited degree, it stands to reason such glands would be in evidence here as well."
Without even realizing it, Kanzas shook his head, wiping sweaty hands on battered leather pants. "That wouldn't be it, though. Well, I don't know about monsters, but in higher species the main part for magic is in the back of the neck, under those - pointy bones there. Part of the spine's cord."
Giving him a quizzical look, he asked, "But you - you're certain? How do you know that?"
"I…know what insides look like," he rasped, half-deflecting the question. Though not without the blood. That part seemed to have pooled down inside the torso as time had passed, leaving the tissue Syuveil was handling merely moist, chill and clammy. "I watched Winglies - but, Syuveil, how'd you learn to do this, anyway?" he went on, quickly changing the subject. He stepped back from the table, sitting down on a tall stool located near the wall behind him. "Shirley told me you were a slave."
After a long, thoughtful moment, he leaned down again, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, in Zenebatos. I was given to the young master when he first went away to school. He was a lazy child, and, like most lazy people, he worked harder to get out of work than he would to have just done it." Syuveil smiled a little to himself, using the point of his knife to slice back the membranes that held intestine coiled together. "He spent long hours teaching me to read and write so that I could do his study for him," he finished. "That was before it was illegal, of course. I learned everything he would not."
"I see," Kanzas responded, watching him skillfully free the tubing from the opened hollow. Chewing on his lip, he tried to force himself to ignore the tension forming in his stomach. It wasn't that he felt anything for the creature itself; it was just a monster, after all, a beast of a kind that attacked Humans traveling through the snow in order to eat their flesh, and regularly made off with livestock from outlying farms.
"My purpose in my own study, now, is to discover the workings of life and death. It is said that within the fruits of the Divine Tree, sown by Soa, all living things gained a physical form. That this," the younger man waved a bloodstained hand across the corpse, "was formed by the Tree and is perpetuated through procreation. But what creates life itself? I believe it is the soul, more everlasting than flesh."
Raising his head, the Violet Dragoon rejoined slowly, "But we're also told creatures like this don't have 'souls' like intelligent species. Sub-creatures-"
"According to the Winglies," Syuveil disagreed, raising his eyebrow as he measured intestine by hand-length and marked it on his papers, "we Humans are sub-creatures. While they do know a lot, the Winglies have tainted their facts with beliefs. What makes life, if not the soul?" he half-lectured, as if the heavens themselves would open up to give him the correct response. "When does the soul attach to the body? Why, when it has gone, can the body not be revived?"
"Can't it?" Kanzas whispered in return, an almost wild-eyed look about him that would have given Syuveil pause if he'd noticed it. However, the scholar was too busy with his investigations to look up.
'Oh, gods! Mother Melane, her heart's not going-'
'Shut up, girl! Savan, revive the crone - you damned Humans - so much work - there! Stop your crying, right now-'
Feeling a bit numb, he stood up as if pulled, amber eyes narrowing at the cadaver on the table. Slowly, he crossed his arms loosely in front of him, fingers spread, eyes squeezed closed in concentration. As Syuveil straightened, looking at him oddly, he gritted his teeth and jerked his arms forward, snapping his elbows straight, clenching his fists.
Violet-colored electricity flickered along his arms, crackling outward in a wave toward the ape. As Syuveil watched in astonishment, the dull-purple heart muscle reacted to the shock, giving one single beat before falling still again. A faint smell of burning filled the air. "There," Kanzas murmured, sweat trickling down the side of his face to catch in his beard. "There. Did I give it life again?"
"What did you do?" the other man asked, leaning forward with eyebrows raised.
"Humans' magic," he gasped. "Remember? It's easier when I'm fighting." Syuveil, with one curt nod, leaned down again to peer at the organs critically. "It's been dead too long," he continued, swiping away the sweat with the back of his hand, "but that works if the heart has just stopped. The Winglies…"
Syuveil looked at him a bit impatiently, waiting for him to continue, but he had fallen silent. "The Winglies use that method?" he finally prodded, unable to hide his interest in the new information.
Kanzas finally nodded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he sat back down on the high stool. As he was hunched forward, the gesture looked less self-assured and haughty than it usually did. "You know they have rods that contain spells," he told the other Dragoon dully. "If they've…overused an old slave, they might revive her - him with that. Their own lightning spells…too strong. Sometimes, it works."
And sometimes, he remembered, flexing his fingers again, it only made things worse. Maybe that, after all, had been the first time he'd killed…
"But, does this," Syuveil asked, his mind whirring with possibilities, "really return life to a body? Or is it merely preventing death?"
Clenching his jaw tightly, however, the other man refused to comment, staring at the corpse of the ape. He of all people was not squeamish, but there was something here that was making him ill, and it had nothing to do with calling the lightning. Strapped to the table, watching the instruments glitter in the light above…
'Does this hurt? No? Here? And this? I see. And if we…yes, ah, yes now. And does that hurt? How much? Does it hurt, Human, or are you just play-acting? I'm warning you, if you continue to spoil my results-! Ah, yes, I see. That one seems most effective…'
Footsteps sounded in the stillness of the room, and then the scholar was at his side, scrutinizing him from behind his lenses. "You look pale, Kanzas," he noted gently. "Are you feeling uncomfortable with this? Forgive my surprise, but you seemed very familiar with such research earlier."
Chuckling humorlessly, he returned with his own question, avoiding his gaze. "Was your old master good, Syuveil?"
"Good?" he echoed, confused. "Indifferent, I would say. I was valuable property, and not mistreated, but I don't see why-"
"I lived in Aglis," Kanzas broke in, finally turning fierce eyes on his comrade. "I know about this…research because I was it. Me and seven others, one for each element and one…for none. Like Dragoons," he murmured to himself, half-audible. "Powerless Dragoons…"
Syuveil frowned in thought, nearly pressing his fist to his lips, though he realized what he'd recently been touching and wiped his hands with a nearby cloth instead. "That sounds - where did I read that…? Oh," he finally drew out, "I remember now. The study of magic in the Human species - Azai's project."
He flinched at the name, his hands flying to the sides of his head as if he had a sudden migraine. "Yes, that Wingly bastard," he hissed, the tone so filled with venom that the other man took an involuntary step backward. Kanzas forced himself to drop his arms, color rushing back to his face. "How do you know about that, anyway? It's been years. You probably weren't even born then."
"It wasn't that long ago," the young man returned with dignity. "In fact, it was considered an important recent study when I read it, and at that time I had access to the scholars' libraries to write my master's reports. I think I actually have a copy of the records here somewhere; I couldn't take the glyph tablets from the archives, of course…" Unnerved by the look he was being given, Syuveil hastily turned toward a shelf nearby, flipping through some papers. However, he quickly gave up, letting the stack fall haphazardly again. "I'll find it later," he promised. "Rightfully, it should be yours."
It wasn't as if he really wanted any kind of reminder of that time, but he gave a nod and took a deep breath, the smell of blood and the open preservative jars momentarily overwhelming him. Won't make any difference…the dead are dead, no matter what I do now, no matter if I remember them or not. "If you want," he answered in a monotone.
And then Kanzas felt a hand on his shoulder, making him tense, but he resisted the urge to look at its owner, not wanting to seem even more pathetic than he felt right now. "I think we're done here for today," Syuveil said in a rather false cheerful tone. "I can finish up another time."
"You'd better," he replied, letting himself smirk a little. "Before it rots."
The scholar shrugged in response, his hand falling away. "It won't rot, not outdoors in a Vellweb winter. I've been able to keep-"
A loud creak suddenly sounded in the tower room. The myriad candles surrounding the table flickered as the tall door flew open, the figure of a black-haired man pushing hard on the latch. "Syu!" he cried, sounding a bit frantic.
"Shynn?" his friend asked, spinning to face him. "What's wrong?"
Though he started to answer, when his eyes lit on Kanzas sitting there he snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. The Violet Dragoon merely raised an eyebrow at him, and Shynn's expression darkened into a frown. "Never mind," he snapped, stepping backward, his dark blue cloak swirling around him. And then, almost as soon as he'd come in, he slammed the door shut again behind him, its echoes sounding for a moment afterward.
"What's his problem?" Kanzas asked to break the bewildered silence, standing up a bit shakily. Putting his shoulders back, he hid the weakness with a stretch, cracking his knuckles.
Syuveil, though reaching to retrieve his instruments from the table and place them in a jar of water, was still looking at the doorway where his friend had been, a puzzled look clouding his green eyes. The worries that had been plaguing him the past few days suddenly seemed to resettle on his shoulders. "I don't know," he answered, his Wingly-accented voice thoughtful as he untied his leather apron and set it aside. "He doesn't enjoy dissections, but a reaction like that isn't like him."
Kanzas snorted, secretly feeling a bit relieved when the other man snapped open a large piece of canvas and threw it out on top of the white ape's remains. Though he opened his mouth to speak, he never began, cut short as a high-pitched scream pierced the air…
Her breath billowing in clouds around her, Damia stopped at the top of the long flight of stairs to take a break, wrapping her green and white scarf more securely around her neck and pulling an edge of it up over her nose. The weak winter sun had already dipped behind the horizon, and nighttime chill was coming on quickly.
It was times like this, when the city loomed large around and far down below, when the wind blew through her hard enough to make her bones ache, that she missed the ocean most of all. Her thoughts drifted toward her former master's house not far from the shore, and though she was grateful to be free now, the twelve-year-old couldn't help but wish it was as pleasant here in her new home.
Now that she wasn't expected to stay at the school all the time, however, things were becoming much brighter. Her new job as messenger wasn't making her any friends amongst the other children, who were jealous of her privileges, but at least she wasn't forced to be around them constantly.
In fact, Damia was climbing the steps to the upper city once more, a slip of paper tucked under her belt to deliver to the Jade Dragoon in his tower. The pale man who'd given her the message for Syuveil had looked vaguely familiar, and she realized she'd probably seen him before in the company of the Dragoons. That had made her a lot less nervous about going to do this without telling Belzac first; though she'd tried to find him, he hadn't been back to the orphanage all day, and the women who minded the children there had no idea where he'd gone.
Still, she wished the stranger had spoken to her while it was still light out. Though torches lit the pathways, there were fewer in the upper city, and the icy stairways were even more treacherous in the dark. She took the last few carefully as she got up to the landing of the tower summit. Smoothing her teal hair down over her eye, Damia pulled out the note and raised her fist to knock on the large, heavy arched door.
It never connected with the wood as a gloved hand closed around her wrist, yanking her arm back sharply and pulling her with it. The other hand slapped down hard across Damia's mouth, choking off her startled cry as the owner quickly dragged her down the stairs and onto the landing there.
She struggled against his grip, kicking as she tried to pull away, but her light boots slid across the slippery stone and he continued to hold her fast. He suddenly snatched the message from her hand, letting it fall to land with its corner wedged into a small drift of crusty snow.
Damia paid no attention to that, quickly realizing there was someone else there. A woman stepped out of the shadows, peering down at the girl's face. White hair glimmered in the moonlight, bright against the dusky sky, and Damia stared in further shock at the Wingly ambassador she'd met almost two weeks earlier.
"Goodness," Fara breathed, smiling thinly. "This was simple, wasn't it?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" the man said above her, his soft voice familiar because it belonged to the one who'd asked her to take the message. Twisting to try to look upward at him, she only managed to strain her eyes, catching a glimpse of his chin with the rest of his face shaded beneath a navy hood. He quickly forced her head back down again with the hand that covered her mouth, barely glancing at her himself. "She's just an orphan child, hardly even missed."
"Yes," Fara answered in her deep, rich tones, "but a very special child nonetheless." Reaching out, though Damia flinched back and tried to turn away, Fara pinched hold of one of her ragged ears, looking at it, and then brushed aside the sweep of teal hair that had been covering half her face. A smirk grew as she revealed the scatter of newly-formed blue-violet scales trailing around her eye. "Very special indeed." She looked back up again, growing flinty. "And you had better mind your manners with me, Human."
He made an angry noise, dragging Damia back once more and shoving her behind him, out of Fara's immediate reach. The girl was too surprised by the sudden move to say anything when his hand left her mouth, her throat locked up with fear. Even so, the half-mermaid struggled, trying to yank and twist her arm out of the man's grip. However, he was too strong, and held on easily. She knew that no one else was aware she was here, and there was no way she could get down from the tower circle to where the guards were posted without being caught again. Whimpering slightly, she could only watch the quiet but heated confrontation.
"Don't expect me to act like a slave, Wingly," the Human hissed. "Never again. I'm not here to cater to your whims. I'll hand over the kid only when you do what you promised."
Her eyes narrowed sharply, and she raised a hand up in front of her, as if threatening to cast. "You are treading dangerously, Shynn," Fara murmured, "for one whose life depends on my 'whims'. I did not need you to capture a mere child! My uncle has lowered Flanvel's defenses in order for me to teleport, and I don't have the time to waste before I leave this stinking city and do so."
Damia choked back a gasp upon hearing the name, recognizing it as belonging to the man who'd sat with the others at the high table last night during the feast. Why was one of the Dragoons dealing with a Wingly? She wished she could let Belzac know…of course, she also wished she hadn't come here at all.
"Yes, leave Vellweb, conveniently forgetting me?" Shynn accused harshly. "You can take her when I'm sure you haven't double-crossed me."
"So says the Human traitor," the slender woman drawled, brushing her bangs back flippantly. "Very well. Show me this broken artifact of yours, and I'll see what I can do to reactivate it."
Hesitating, he reached beneath his cloak, pulling something small from an inner pocket of his tunic. Slowly extending his gloved hand, the man relaxed his fingers to reveal a dull sea-blue orb lying in his palm.
Fara's eyes widened, and both Shynn and Damia could tell that she had identified the Dragoon Spirit for what it was, though she tried to hide the recognition with a clearly false bored look a moment later. Instantly suspicious, the man moved to pull the marble back to his chest as the Wingly reached out eagerly for it.
Before she could touch it, the cold orb suddenly burst into life. Bright, dancing rays of blue light spun outward from the tiny jewel, blinding both Fara and Shynn with their brilliance, though Damia only looked on with awe.
Stumbling backwards, the dark-haired Human stared at the Dragoon Spirit with an expression of rapture on his face. "It's accepted me!" he whispered piercingly, his hood falling back and his white face lit up with the blue glow. He abruptly let go of the girl's wrist, not paying attention as she slid and fell on the icy stone. He lifted the orb to eye-level, his hand relaxing once more. "It's-"
With another spray of color, the spirit flew from his hand, shooting upward into the night sky. With a cry of dismay, Shynn reached for it, but was too late to grab anything but the remains of the mist it trailed. Reacting a bit more slowly, Fara let her shimmering energy wings materialize and jumped up to catch the orb, her fur-edged cloak flapping around her.
However, as she stretched out her hand to grab it, the Blue Sea spirit suddenly reached the top of its trajectory and, slipping through her grasp, plummeted ever faster back down toward the two below. Damia, still half-sprawled on the landing, raised her hands as the orb fell, as if in a trance.
As she cupped her slim fingers around it, its glow grew even brighter, though she didn't blink as she stared through the light into the swirling liquid that moved inside the jewel. A deep voice, though faint and far-off, whispered a sort of greeting in her mind, and silently her lips moved to form a response.
"No!" Shynn hissed. The word came so harshly that Damia's head jerked up, her ruby-colored eyes going wide. "No! How dare you! That's mine! It's mine!"
She tried to scramble to her feet as the man spun on her, reaching inside his cloak once more, and finally lurched upright just as he yanked a dagger free and raised it above her. Her shoes slipped on the ice as she tried to run, though it actually saved her; Shynn stabbed his blade deeply into the half-mermaid's shoulder and tore it out again, missing her throat as she fell. She screamed in pain and terror, raising her other arm to vainly shield herself as he moved for another blow.
But, as he crouched down, the heavy door to the tower above slammed open, revealing Syuveil and Kanzas standing in the entranceway. For an instant everything froze as they took in the scene, Fara flying above and the man holding a dagger that gleamed in the glow of the unsetting moon. Though the dim light obscured the upper stairways of the towers, dark splotches on the ice and snow revealed the blood that had been spilled.
Well, Kanzas thought in amusement, this is certainly going to be interesting.
"Shynn!" Syuveil cried in a strangled voice. "What - what…?"
Forcing herself into a painful crouch, Damia looked frantically up at the dark figures outlined in candlelight. "Help me!" she pleaded, falling back against the inside of the staircase arch, her hand pressed hard against her wound as she tried to hold back her sobs. "He's trying to kill me!"
"It's mine!" Shynn howled, making a chopping gesture, staring up at his friend. "She took it from me! It's mine! It accepts me! Have I not always been faithful? Haven't I promised to fight? Haven't I been loyal? I am the Dragoon, me! It's mine!"
Choking down a breath of air, the scholar shook his head hard, his hands clenched. "Shynn…!" His gaze caught on the shimmery figure of the Wingly hanging before him, and his expression suddenly hardened. "You did this, Fara, didn't you?" he accused. "You've…cast some kind of spell…"
Not even giving her a chance to respond, Syuveil shoved back past Kanzas into the tower, quickly grabbing hold of his spear from where it sat propped next to the doorway. Even as he ran outside again, he called on the power of his Dragoon Spirit, the ghostly images of green leaves swirling around him to form the winged armor. Pushing off with one foot from the edge of the stone staircase, he let out a growling cry and dove straight for Fara, his spear braced in front of him.
The Wingly, though stunned by the sight of the Dragoon armor, was quicker, twisting out of the way and flying ever higher. Syuveil, however, spun upward after her, so fast it was hard to see just how he turned. He hit her hard in the chest with the shaft of the spear, but she kicked back from him, hurt by the strike, and her face filled with anger.
Dragging his eyes back from the sky, Kanzas decided that Syuveil shouldn't get to have all the fun. He slowly descended the stairs to the second landing, his gaze fixed on Shynn, who still stood where he'd been when interrupted, a blank look on his face and the dagger raised as he watched his friend attack Fara. Sliding his hand around the comfortable grip of his claw, he felt a grin start to spread across his face. He wanted to hurt someone - if it would erase the uncertainty he'd just been feeling, make the pain go away- "You'll do," Kanzas said to the black-haired man with a chuckle.
"What?" Shynn answered coldly, dragging his attention to the Violet Dragoon, who stood there in his shirtsleeves in the chill, his claw raised in an almost casual attack stance.
Damia, taking a chance, used Kanzas' interruption to push past her attacker and down the last set of stairs to the tower ring. However, she didn't continue running for safety, but instead turned to watch what was happening, her hand staunching the flow of blood from her wounded shoulder and the other firmly clenched around the spirit, which still glowed with a pale light. It was obvious that neither Shirley nor Zieg were up here, else they would have come out by now, and she was too in pain to get down to the lower city alone.
Neither of the men had paid her heed, and Kanzas shrugged as if the answer was plain to see. "Fight me, of course. I don't like you. You're obviously just a sore loser."
There was a flash of light and a cry from above, and Shynn flinched, looking up to see a spinning hail of rock engulf Syuveil. The force of the spell had driven him back several feet, but he pulled upright, looking a bit battered but mostly unhurt. "Keep your ignorance to yourself," he answered shakily, returning his attention to the stairs and moving to the defensive.
"You heard me," Kanzas went on, now advancing slowly. His spirit, still bound against his wrist, was informing him of the birth of a new Dragoon, and from the man's earlier diatribe, he was sure the Blue Sea spirit hadn't chosen Shynn. "Your loyal friend fights her, thinking she made you do it, but he's wrong."
"You don't know anything about it!" Shynn cried back, brandishing the dagger wildly. He shook his head, his lips twisted into a rictus. "Come on, then, if this is what you want!"
Raising his arm before the other man had even finished speaking, Kanzas crouched forward, snapping the claws outward in a sweeping motion. Startled, Shynn stumbled backward, thin lines of red beading up along the right side of his face. Splotches of angry color darkened his skin, and he made a hissing noise, ducking to avoid the next swipe.
Kanzas was attacking almost indifferently, as if it wasn't worth the effort, making his opponent's rage grow. Shynn's preferred weapon was a double-bladed sword, which had a much longer reach than the dagger he now held, but he'd left it behind to avoid suspicion. However, he was quite fast, able to dodge or parry the Dragoon's attacks even though he couldn't make any of his own. Occasionally, however, he would glance up at the battle above them, his distraction earning him another cut or a tear through the fabric of his cloak or tunic.
Fara, unsure of the extent of Syuveil's power, was simply trying to keep her distance from him, throwing spells when she had a chance. The Wingly 'ambassador' wasn't used to an enemy who could fly along with her, matching her moves; as her uncle was Faust the magician, Melbu Frahma's right hand and greatest rival, few of her own kind had dared to challenge her. She'd learned to fight with stinging words rather than a weapon, but nothing she said seemed to affect the Jade Dragoon's rage except to intensify it.
She drew back as he hurtled forward, sprays of energy bursting from the span of his wings, but even as she leaned aside he let his spear fall as well, one of the points etching a long, jagged cut across her forehead. "You are a fool," Fara spat as she quickly turned to face him, blinking away the blood that trickled into her eye. "I am not the one you should be attacking! Your friend has betrayed you willingly!"
"I'm supposed to believe that?" Syuveil snarled back, shaking his head. His pupils had contracted sharply, giving him a wild, insane look that contrasted oddly with the spectacles he wore. "Believe you over my childhood friend?"
It was like nothing the Wingly had ever seen before, especially in a Human, whom she'd always believed were hopelessly peaceful and weak. In fact, it was almost as if he was feeding off his anger, using it to power that mysterious Dragoon armor. Biting her lip in unaccustomed fear, she gathered a ball of silvery energy in her hand and sent it shooting toward him.
Syuveil, cream-colored wings flapping hard, jerked to one side as the shot flew by, but a moment later a gaping cut opened along his jawline, blood welling out to spill down his neck. With a slight hesitation as he braced himself against the pain, he drew his spear to one side and bowed his head.
Fara, about to use the opportunity, stopped in midair as a pale pink petal drifted past him out of nowhere. She held her arms in front of her defensively as the shower of petals intensified, expecting them to burn her as they flew by, but they were merely insubstantial, clouding her vision. "Blossom Storm!" she heard the man cry from within the morass of flowers.
"Impossible!" she gasped out, watching the outline of an orb take shape around him and then vanish, though its protection obviously remained. "Humans cannot cast magic!" Raising her hands above her head, her long white ponytail twisting and spinning behind her, she traced a large, powerful sigil, feeding it as much power as she dared. "Suffer for your blasphemy!" the Wingly woman shouted as the Dragoon was surrounded with jets of white-hot flame.
"Syuveil!" Shynn screamed below, staring up at the ball of fire that had just been the figure of his friend, but his attention was immediately jerked back as Kanzas punched him hard to the jaw with his off hand. Trying to regain his footing, he slipped backward, tumbling down the stairs to the tower ring itself. Damia shrieked as he fell at her feet, stumbling back out of the way as Shynn dragged himself upright again.
The russet-haired fighter descended slowly once more, flexing his fingers. Although he'd seen what was going on above, he didn't seem to care much about it. "Pathetic," he spat, giving a smirk as he goaded the other man on. "Just accept the truth - the Dragon didn't want you. It's fate. Stop crying about it," Kanzas sneered, inwardly laughing at the way his words instantly fanned the dying anger within his opponent. "Yeah, maybe Soa wants us to lose, but whether or not it's a good idea, Damia's the Dragoon. Not you! This kid deserves to rule Dragons more than you do!"
His breath coming faster and faster, Shynn glanced upward once more, watching as Syuveil spun outward from the flames, trailing little tongues of fire as he shot straight for Fara, his spear braced before him like the point of a burning arrow. Gray eyes snapping back to Kanzas, he leapt forward, howling, "No-!"
Fara, frozen in shock, couldn't move as the Human flew toward her, very much alive despite the inferno that should have melted flesh from bone. For a moment, as the gigantic double-bladed spearhead pierced through her torso, that shock was still the only thing she could feel. However, that moment was short-lived.
Flung back with the momentum of the blow, the Wingly's body arched as if to accept the spear deeper, the fire inside her now bursting free as the weapon slammed out through her lower back. She grasped onto the ornately-carved shaft of the spear, staring into astounded green eyes as Syuveil shifted his grip to account for her sudden weight. She could feel it as her wings behind her began to flicker, the life energy that sustained them fading.
"You can kill me…but your lord…still falls…! Sooner than…you'd wish…" The woman shook her head with an effort, blood spilling from her mouth as she spoke, her eyes rolling back in her head.
He blinked back, confused by what she'd said, but a moment later her words vanished from his head as he saw what was going on below. His mouth went dry, and his tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of it. "Soa, no!" Syuveil whispered before his voice rose into a scream. "Stop! No, don't-!"
Shynn, enraged by Kanzas' taunts, was running straight for him, dagger held steady. The older man merely stood there, waiting for him. Syuveil's cry came too late as Kanzas unexpectedly kicked upward, his boot landing hard in the middle of Shynn's chest and knocking him away.
Sliding back across the icy stone, he collided with the half-mermaid, and, clutching at her as if to slow his fall, plummeted over the inner curve of the tower walkway. The fingers of one hand caught the edge of the path and then, all at once, slithered away.
Damia's horrible panicked cry rang out and then faded from hearing; Shynn did not make a sound.
Syuveil could no longer keep hold of the spear, and both his weapon and Fara's corpse dropped down to the tower ring and landed heavily in a drift of snow, all but forgotten. Though he wanted to dive down after them, he could feel his power fading, and he knew that if he tried his armor would vanish and he, too, would die.
Stepping quickly to the edge, Kanzas put a foot up on the low rim and peered down, to all outward appearances emotionless. However, his fists were clenched at his sides, a tic in the muscle of his cheek betraying his dismay. He remained standing there, staring toward the lower city, although there was nothing to see; after all, it was dark, and it was a long way down.
And then a bright streak of blue flashed below, shooting upward. An instant later the form of Damia arced toward him, throwing her arms around his neck with a terrified cry. She was wearing the lightweight Blue Sea armor, her crystal-white wings flapping behind her as she knocked him back a step, forcing him to catch hold of her as he tried to remain standing. Her need had summoned her Dragoon power without its being charged first, saving her life as she fell.
For just a second, his amber eyes wide, Kanzas let her cling to him before grabbing at her arms and prying her away. "Hey, get off," he grumbled, dropping the slender girl to her feet. She was still bleeding from the stab wound in her shoulder, and he could feel the heat of her blood and tears quickly chilling against his collarbone.
Shaking in relief, Damia slid down to her knees and hung her head in exhaustion, a blue glow surrounding her as she detransformed. "That was so scary!" she breathed, wrapping her arms around herself, her spirit clenched tightly in her fist. Syuveil touched down behind them almost at the same time, his Dragoon armor also disappearing in a similar burst of light.
The young man walked slowly up to the edge of the circle path, looking into the darkness below before crumpling to all fours in the snow. "Shynn," he whispered, his shoulders trembling beneath his gray tunic, the cut on his face weeping more blood. "I don't believe it. I don't believe it…"
After a moment's wary silence, the teal-haired girl looked up with reddened eyes. "You didn't help us!" she accused Kanzas.
He hadn't really had a lot of time to react to their fall, though it wasn't worth explaining that. "I don't see why I should spare a traitor. Besides," Kanzas pointed out with a mocking grin, "he'd already killed the Dragon for you. It wouldn't have been fair for you of all people to gain your spirit without surviving some kind of challenge."
Syuveil tensed at his words but said nothing, still unblinking. Damia, however, gaped up at the man, her hand unconsciously reaching to cover her wound. "B-but…" she stuttered, unable to wrap her mind around the idea that he might have purposely let her fall. "That was so scary. I could have died!"
Kanzas snorted derisively, unimpressed, and waved as if to brush away her concern. A handful of cold white flakes drifted down gently from above, the first of a coming snowfall. "Name me one moment in your life when you can't die, kid."
Unable to answer, she gave him a hurt look. "You're terrible," she muttered miserably, her gaze falling upon Syuveil's curled form. Swallowing hard past the lump in her throat, Damia crawled slowly, one-handed, toward him, her heart racing in fear at the sight of the path's rim she'd just gone over. Shynn had held onto her as they fell, but, as her wings caught her, the jolt of stopping had knocked him free. She barely knew Syuveil, but she still felt sorry for him, feeling in some way that the loss of his friend was all her fault.
His begrudged tears, salty and hot, stung his cut as they trickled down the curve of his cheek. For a moment he was aware of nothing but the cold and the endless fall of the snow until a small hand touched the back of his head. Though he tensed, Syuveil didn't move, feeling Damia's fingers threading gently, comfortingly through his messy, singed hair.
Kneeling next to him, the girl kept her eyes averted from the darkness below, instead watching the other Dragoon's face. "I'm sorry," she whispered, holding out the Blue Sea spirit in her other blood-covered hand. "I didn't mean for - I didn't ask for it…if I could give it back, I would!"
Slowly, he sat back up on his knees, question-filled eyes turning to Damia as he closed her fingers over the spirit. "No," he answered hoarsely, "the Dragon accepted you. I just wish…" Trying to clear his voice, he went on, "I just wish I knew why this happened."
"And why were you up here, anyway?" Kanzas broke in, scratching his beard.
Feeling their attention on her, she ducked her head, mumbling, "That man…Shynn…asked me to bring a message to you, Syuveil." She patted for the paper under her belt, but it wasn't there, and she didn't bother looking around for it. "When I came up to bring it, he grabbed me. The Wingly wanted to take me with her when she left. I don't know why."
Cold fingers gently touched her face, making her gasp as the scholar turned her head in order to look at the scatter of scales along her eye that she'd been trying to hide with her hair. Damia's pale skin flushed a bright red, and she looked away from him quickly. "To make you a slave again," he answered her quietly. "Or worse, bring you to Aglis."
There was a hiss of anger from Kanzas, though he covered it up a moment later with a slight cough. He crossed his arms as he started to feel the cold again, accompanied by a bitter, icy breeze that reminded him exactly why he didn't like this city. "So, what was Shynn supposed to get out of it?"
"I don't know," Damia answered, frowning as she tried to sort out what had gone on. "I think he wanted her to…to fix the jewel, or something. But when she tried to grab it, he took it back…and it started to glow. It flew up and then came down to me."
"I…" Syuveil sighed, slamming his hands down into the snow. "Damn it! I don't understand! What were you thinking?" he shouted down toward the lower city, his teeth clenched.
Damia, her face drawn with pain, put her hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she told him again, closing her eyes.
He turned suddenly as if to embrace her, but at her wince of pain he pulled away, seeing the blood-soaked tear in her tunic. "We should get you to Shirley right away," he stated, his jaw setting as if he was armoring himself against the hurt he felt. Levering himself back up to his feet, he picked the girl up, arms at her back and under her legs. "I'm sure she's not up here, but maybe they'll know below where she is."
She held onto him tightly, still avoiding looking down, and said shyly, "You're hurt too, Syuveil."
Kanzas, annoyed by their comforting, had gone over to where Fara lay and jerked the spear from her chest. It was now much smaller, as it had changed back to normal as well. "Hey," he called, lifting it to his shoulder and turning as the Jade Dragoon stepped away from the walkway's rim. "What do you want to do with this? The other Winglies aren't going to be happy."
"Leave her," he murmured vaguely, shaking his head; Damia nestled her own against his shoulder, an odd look on her blushing face. "It doesn't matter, really. We're going to war whether she's dead or not. I'll send someone to take care of it." He frowned. "Someone - why did no one come up here?" he asked rhetorically. "The others, or even the guard? They had to have seen that fire spell from down there, if nothing else."
"Maybe they're smarter than they seem," Kanzas muttered. It was fortunate, anyway, if they were still supposed to be keeping this stuff a secret at all.
As Syuveil and Damia passed to head down to the lower city, he turned back up the stairs toward the open door of the tower, carrying the spear with him, intending to grab his borrowed coat before going down as well. A dark shape in the snow on the second landing caught his eye, and he stooped briefly to snatch up the slip of paper lying there before continuing.
Down the shallow steps inside the tower, the russet-haired man dropped the spear to the stone floor uncaringly and shrugged into his coat before unfolding the note he'd found. The sheet was covered in a cramped script. He leaned down near the light of a candle on the nearby desk, trying to decipher it, as he couldn't read very well and the handwriting wasn't helping. His brows furrowed, his lips moving as he slowly puzzled out the words, and then he straightened suddenly, jamming the paper into his pocket.
This was not good.
Not even bothering to tug the large door shut, the Dragoon skidded his way quickly back down the stairs to the tower ring and the form sprawled there, staining the snow. Kanzas pushed Fara's body over onto its back, bracing his hands on her stiffening shoulders. He leaned down above a face twisted and frozen into an expression of agony, staring deeply into eyes glazed with death.
In the dim light, they were the very color of drying blood, looking upward into nothingness - the beautiful, dead eyes of the Wingly who had poisoned Lord Diaz.