Chapter 18
The sensation of floating always was an odd feeling. You balanced on nothing yet were weightless, suspending. You hung over the grounds of death, its cold clutches taunting you as you stared from hovering above it. It was cold and dark. There were no sounds. The loneliness and isolation curled around her like a safety net, keeping her from falling into the darkness that made her feel so small and insignificant. She could feel herself swaying back and forth, floating and drifting to nowhere, and numbness. The terrible numbness was like a shackle to her, keeping her from escaping to the land of reality.
This was what Bulma felt like as she drifted across the lake. She felt too weak to lift her head, to open her eyes. Instead she floated in a state of semi-conscious for what seemed like hours. It wasn't until she felt a brush of something slimy and thin against her did she feel partial to certainty. It took her a while to familiarize herself with the sensations of touch. For so long it seemed she had been floating there, feeling nothing but the cold. That simple touch acted like an alarm, slowly letting her mind focus on reality and awaken. Her eyes timidly cracked open, nearly crusted shut and was almost blinded by the power of the sun glaring down at her.
Bulma moaned slightly, though it hadn't sounded a note above a whisper. Her throat was dry and scratchy and it hurt to swallow. She tried turning her head, but her face immediately burst into pain that had been so blissfully numb before. Bulma wanted to cry out, but could not make a sound in her voice without it hurting. Stuck to her cheek was a long blade of grass. During her unconsciousness she must have floated towards a bank, finally hitting land.
Everything ached. As soon as sight, sound and feeling returned to her Bulma wished all at once it would vanish again. Her muscles felt strained and sore, pulled taunt and then twisted unmercifully. Her head felt heavy and pounded away with each pulse, like a tribal drum. Her face, oh her face felt as if it were on fire. As if someone had taken a hot poker and jammed in between her nose and slashed across her face a hundred times.
It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, and it hurt to even think, but she couldn't stay floating in the lake forever. As it was she was getting cold and her lips trembled. She didn't need to get sick as well. A garbled gasp left her lips as she lifted her arms, wanting to scream at how badly it all ached to even move. Her hands lashed out and grabbed fists full of wet grass, tugging to get herself onto dry land.
It took her a full thirty minutes to succeed. Bulma collapsed onto the grass with a whimper, her legs still dangling in the lake. She pulled them out and collapsed onto her back, her breath came out heavy and hard. She coughed, spewing out water and muck and blood. Her mouth felt dirty. Her head continued to pound away, and all at once her body seemed to scream at her.
It wouldn't be for a few hours that she would wake up again and wonder how she got out of the water, or how she wound up in a warm bed, dry and naked.
When Bulma opened her eyes for the second time, the first thing she was struck with was confusion. She couldn't identify her surroundings, and for a fleeting moment was terrified that she had died. Was this blissful state of calm and peace the beckoning of heaven, or maybe just the result of self-imposed delirium? Bulma pulled off her coverings, not caring that she was pale and exposed underneath and tried to make it to the doorway, hopefully, possibly, to get some answers. She almost made it to the door when she caught sight of her image in a mirror. Bulma walked up to the glass and touched its surface, marveling at the mess she looked within. Her hair was frazzled and messy, her eyes looked sunken in and tired, but that wasn't what she noticed. No, what she noticed was the absence of the gaping wounds Freeza had given her not hours before.
Her hand rose to run over her skin lightly, afraid that touching too hard would anger the wounds again. Her fingertips were met with cool skin. No evidence that the skin was cut open at all, not even a scar.
"I am glad you have awakened."
The voice startled her and Bulma jumped in fright and turned around at her intruder. Staring at her with a big smile was a Namekian native. He was tall and green and wore a tunic of brown cloth. He looked kind and safe and Bulma felt an unbelievable amount of relief when she saw him instead of a foot soldier in Freeza's armor or an angel of death coming to tell her that she had perished in a smelling pond where her body would rot and never be discovered.
"How did I get here?" Bulma was surprised at the sound of her voice. It was still scratchy and rough. Her hand rose to touch at her throat.
The Namekian chuckled. "Do not worry, your voice will return to you soon. We cannot heal but so much. As for where you are, you are in our village. Tennor had found on the river bank and brought you here. I am Alto."
Realization dawned in her eyes. "You saved my life…and healed my wounds…"
Alto continued to smile. "Yes, you have the Elder to thank for that. Without his healing touch you would never have survived."
"Thank you." Bulma rasped out, her eyes sinking to stare at the floor.
Alto nodded his head. "When you are fully rested, Our Elder would like to speak with you. Your clothing is hanging on the chair. Good day."
Bulma watched him turn and leave, only then noticing that she had been standing there completely naked. She eeped out in shock and dashed across the room, quickly throwing on the suit and armor. As she slipped on the elastic suit, she noticed that the holes were patched up in them. Her knees had ground against the glass and the suit had slashed open. Now there lied thin seams where the tears had been sewn together.
After pulling on the boots, Bulma made it for the exit. She opened the door and was immediately met with a field of grass. There were Nameks all around, mending the fields and sitting around. Children were playing in the open field, laughing and smiling. These creatures were always so peaceful, and something tugged in her at the thought of what Freeza was doing to them. They didn't deserve this. No one had any right to intrude on their planet, not even her; because of their foolishness these poor creatures were suffering.
As she looked about with her mournful thoughts, Bulma was approached by a group of Namekians. One she recognized as Alto (she was a bit surprised she could identify distinct features between the Nameks, usually humans did not pick up on non-human features enough to tell them apart. She stored this information away for later). There was another that looked similar to Alto and an elderly looking Namekian. It was interesting to see an aged Namek, how they seemed to age similarly to humans. They both formed wrinkles and age spots, both looked brittle and worn. The elder was hunched slightly and supported his weight with a forked cane. He greeted her with a smile.
"Welcome, Daughter of Earth."
The title startled her for a moment. A faint blush touched her cheeks and she smiled slightly, flattered at the prestigious ring to it.
"I am Lute, the Elder of this village."
The aged and already hunched body of the Elder sunk into a small bow. Bulma copied and gave a short curtsy of her own.
"You have already been introduced to Alto, and this is my dear child Tennor. He is the one who had rescued from the depths of Hersia, our Sea."
Bulma's widened blue eyes immediately locked with the figure standing next to Alto. He smiled warmly at her.
"Oh, thank you! You have no idea how much I am in debt to you." Bulma gushed, controlling herself when she felt the instinct to jump into the giant green man's arms.
Tennor just chuckled, a harmonious sound, and shrugged it off.
"Nonsense. We could never let an Innocent die, not if we could help it."
Bulma's smile faltered slightly. "But…how do you know I am an innocent? I am wearing the uniform of the enemy…and how did you know I was from Earth?"
The Elder looked at her and turned around. "Come, walk with us."
Bulma hesitated for only a minute before complying. She walked in step with the Namek Elder and the two brothers.
"You have an adventure seeking soul, Daughter of Earth."
Bulma stared at the Elder and waited for an explanation. He witnessed her confused look and eyed her slightly.
"Forgive me child, but I have seen your soul. When you were brought to me I had to ensure you would do my brethren no harm so I had to look into your mind. I saw many things. You told the Ones Tainted by the Evils of this Realm of our magical orbs and brought them to disturb our home. You came here with your friends to use our Dragonballs without our permission, and you desire to grant a wish that goes against nature itself."
Bulma paled visibly at the Elder's words, more and more put off by every word he spoke. The Elder looked at her and gave a small dry chuckle.
"But your heart is in the right place so I cannot hold you liable for these misgivings even if I wanted to. Please, do not be afraid of us."
"If you read into my mind, then you know we have no choice but to make our wish," Bulma muttered in a small, humbled voice. "And I am terribly sorry for everything that has happened to you. Please believe me when I say it was never our intention."
"Trust me child, I know. Your heart and mind are in good favor, but none are above the corruptions of this realm, remember this." The Elder said. "And I know that in order to protect both your world and mine what must be done. We must summon Our Eternal Dragon and beg for his help so that the Wicked Ones do not triumph. We had known of their coming thanks to our Heavenly Father Elder Guru. With his guidance we were able to hide the Balls in advance, but now I pray that that isn't enough anymore."
"Then you must help me," Bulma pleaded. She stopped walking and turned to the Elder, her eyes wide with hope.
"I am afraid, Daughter of Earth." The Elder whispered out.
"Our warriors have perished and our Elder Lute is growing old. We have no fighters left to defend ourselves," Alto spoke up. "Our numbers are dwindling, even as we speak. We can feel their deaths like a physical blow."
"There is only one that can save us, Child of Adam. He who bathes in the moonlight's pale glow and wears a mane of golden fur. Father Guru has foreseen it. The Legendary One."
"'He who bathes in the moonlight?'" Bulma repeated. "What does that mean?"
The Elder smiled at her. "We are not certain; his face is not yet written in the stars. Fate has not yet been written for him, there are two paths paved, he must take one and forfeit the other. However, you hold the power to our Salvation."
"Me?" Bulma looked incredulously.
"Yes. Nurture him, guide him, and he may save us. Shed light upon his soul and bring about his rebirth. Do this, and he shall destroy the Empire of the Wicked."
"Stop talking in riddles!" Bulma fumed, angry at the Elder, at his difficulty to simply explain to her, for throwing her into this apocalyptical decision, angry at herself for not catching on fast enough.
"What does this all mean, and how do I know this person?"
"By Moonlight's glow across the Land,
By darkest Hour close at hand.
By golden mane produced asunder,
Our will, our future, our salvation, our blunder."
The rhyme shot her mouth closed and she gazed at the Elder in surprise. Slowly she nodded her head and remained quiet, thinking over the words carefully.
"You will know when the time is right, Daughter of Earth." The Elder gave a short rasp of a cough and slowly turned back towards the village. "Do not be afraid of him, as you once were."
Immediately Bulma's head shot up. Afraid. Don't fear him. A sudden chill ran up her spine as her thoughts immediately turned to the last person she wanted to think about. The Elder, he couldn't possibly think…it couldn't possibly be…
"Vegeta…"