A/N: Ha, only four (or so) months between chapters this time. Better than last time anyway. Gah, I'm so slow at writing. Hope you enjoy this one, and remember, reviews are welcome, especially critistism! And thanks for all those who did review!
And please give me a better chapter title, mine stinks. :P
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Booster. But Deth I thought of myself.
Caught
Parm looked at the citadel, standing strong and opposing. Thin rivers of light found a way past all the drag ways and elegant buildings of Sun City to bath the citadel in a daunting fashion. The contrast of light and shadows stood bleak and sharp on the citadel, making it look even more intimidating than it already was to Parmon Sean. For those who knew nothing of what really lay inside, they would call the citadel beautiful and picturesque. But to those, like the two Penn Racing crew members who waited close by, the citadel screamed dragon-human war.
Parm gulped and once again looked through his binocs to peer intensely at the citadel entrance. Lance looked around him and the building they were taking refuge behind. Their dragons waited somewhat patiently further behind, well, as patient as a dragon could be when they knew their friends were being chased and hunted down by a mad warrior from the past. Fracshun's soft chatter of nervous concern and fear heightened Lance's own worries. Lance looked up at Parm and shook Parm's shirt, afraid to make any other noise and jeopardize their only hope of getting in the citadel.
Parm took his eyes almost reluctantly away from the citadel, and looked down to Lance. "What?" He whispered quietly.
Lance glanced to the citadel, and at one of many wraiths who now stood guard, oblivious to the two and their dragons. "Artha's not here yet."
Parm's voice rose slightly in exasperation of reprimanding Lance yet again. "No, Lance. We don't go in until Artha's here."
"But he's not calling us." Lance whispered back. Parm sighed, wishing they had Moordryd's wrist-comm number, or that Artha and Moordryd had switched wrist-comms at the beginning, so that Artha would have his wrist-comm instead of Moordryd's. Parm felt like massaging his temples, on the off chance that that would actually help take the stress and worry away.
"We don't know whether he found the gear yet. He could take a long time doing that. We should get the computer ready for him when he comes…"
"Lance, sshh!" Parm hushed the younger, and Lance clamped his mouth shut. He had grown excited and determined as he talked, which showed in his voice level. Parm and he glanced to the wraiths, who didn't seem to have heard anything.
After he breathed out a sigh of relief, Parm turned to Lance. "You know we need Artha's help! We need Moordryd's body to get rid of Word, who's probably in there right now!"
"But…"
"We need to wait for him."
"But what if Word isn't there?"
"Lance! We don't know that! And what if we go in, and find him there? That would be disastrous! We could ruin the whole plan!"
"Well," Lance paused. "You wouldn't be that scale scraping stupid to get caught. Would you?"
"Lance…of course not!" Parm retorted. If he did go in, he would never be clumsy enough to get caught, especially not in a situation as critical as this.
Lance held a finger to his lips and quietly shushed Parm, who's voice had risen. Parm glowered at Lance.
"Well, if we won't get caught, we should go in and get ready. Like find out where the computer actually is. What if we have to switch Artha very, very quickly? We need to be…to be prepared."
"I suppose, but we can't get in, Lance. Look how many wraiths there are."
"Did I say I didn't have a plan?" Lance smirked at Parm.
"No, you didn't…wait, you…"
"Have a plan." Lance finished for Parm. Parm watched as Lance skittered away, wondering what in the Magna Draconis he was going to do. Parm looked back to the citadel, and to the watching wraiths. He gulped, and prepared himself for what would come.
----------
"Why don't you drive like you race?" Kitt shouted to Moordryd.
The current Dragon Booster turned his head and looked at her from behind a darkened visor. "I am!" His teeth were clenched and his voice was harsh, as were the usual habits of Moordryd Paynn.
"No you're not! I could easily run ahead and leave you both!"
"Could not!" Moordryd thrust forward the controllers and quickly twisted them to the left to avoid an abandoned wagon.
Kitt sighed. Did she really have to provoke Moordryd just to make him go faster? Wasn't Deth enough? As he reappeared from the other side of the wagon, Beau gave her a slight smile, almost as if to say he was sorry for not picking up the pace himself. Moordryd looked over at her, then huffed. "I don't even need a stable-brat to help me. I should just leave you." He sneered at her.
Kitt frowned at him. "Then why don't you?" She said in frustration, instantly wishing she could take it back. What if Moordryd did try to leave her?
"I would, trust me. But this stupid dragon!" Moordryd yelled down at Beau, controllers pushed as far forward as they would go. Beau flashed them a grin and kept pace with Wyldfyr.
Kitt chuckled at Beau and at Moordryd's aggravation. "Well you don't have to keep the handles that far forward. Don't drain Beau's energy. Deth has fallen behind…a lot."
As Kitt said the last bit in surprise, Moordryd whipped his head around to look behind. The street was empty. "Where is he?" Moordryd demanded.
Kitt peered behind them. "I don't know. Maybe he got stuck between some more buildings."
Moordryd paused as they continued the run to the Old City. "Should we stop and wait for him?"
Kitt shook her head quickly, only glancing at him swiftly before turning back again. "Deth can sense the gold draconium. He'll follow us even if he can't see us." Moordyd appeared relieved that they wouldn't have to wait for the warrior.
Kitt turned her attention back to the empty street ahead, and focused on allowing Wyldfyr to run as fast as she could without unnecessarily wasting her energy. Kitt grimaced. It was almost worse when Deth wasn't right behind them. Kitt had no idea where he was right now. What if he suddenly jumped in front of them? Or if he jumped down from a drag way above? Or…
A huge crash announced Deth's presence, thankfully, still behind them. As soon as the noise had sounded, Syrrox leapt unexpectedly into the street. Kitt's heart jumped into her throat as the sudden emergence surprised her. But what really frightened her was the abrupt, high shriek that seemed rather close. Had Deth hurt someone? But that shriek was much too close…
Realizing where the shriek had come form, Kitt looked to her side at Moordryd, who was just closing his mouth. Beau and Wyldfyr appeared just as surprised as Kitt. Beau chuckled.
"Oh, er I mean…run, Kitt!" He said in a very manly voice.
Kitt would've laughed had Syrrox not just roared and sent chills up her spine.
----------
Decepshun's strides were long and quick, like the fluid motion of a viper, striking forward, then back, too quick for the eye to catch. Artha leaned forward as they rushed through the streets of Down City, through the darkness, taunted by the silence. Decepshun and he were going too fast for him to correctly see any VIDDscreens as they ran by them. They seemed a blur. Artha hoped they weren't too late, for finding the gear had taken longer than he had expected. Once again he tried Lance and Parm, but their wrist-comms were still off.
"Why in the Magna Draconis would they turn their wrist-comms off?" Artha gritted his teeth angrily. Decepshun rolled her eyes and made various throaty growls and moans, trying to tell him a list of reasons. Artha didn't even bother pausing and thinking about it himself. "Ugh, I don't speak dragon!" She growled up at him. She was only trying to help.
Artha sighed and tried Moordryd's VIDDscreen again. After what seemed ages of the static green display, Parmon's face finally came onto the screen, flushed and worried.
"Artha!" He exclaimed before Artha opened his mouth. Artha grinned. Hope seemed to spring anew. "Artha," Parm repeatedly, his voice drastically lower, "where are you?"
"Coming. It took me pretty long to find the gear."
"You think?"
Artha stared back at Parm. "What? I did the best I could."
Parm sighed, and seemed to carry a heavy burden of apprehension on his shoulders that he could not shake. He offered Artha a sincere smile. "Sorry, it's just that…we were getting worried. You were taking so long."
"Well I'm coming now. Are you right outside the citadel? When Decepshun and I go in, then you can…"
"Artha, we won't need you to act as Moordryd to cover for us. We uh…" Parm hesitated, and appeared almost unsure of how to tell Artha. Artha didn't take this as a good sign. He raised Moordryd's eyebrow as a sign for Parm to continue. "…we're already in."
"You're what?" Artha yelled, doing a pretty good Moordryd impression.
Parm immediately shushed him, and glanced around fearfully. "Be quiet. We're in an air duct."
"You're what?" Artha repeated, quieter this time however, still enraged that his friends had gone into the dragon's den without him to protect them. "You were supposed to wait for me! How did you get in? What if you were caught?"
"Oh, please. I wouldn't get caught." Artha was sure Parm had flipped his other hand dismissively. But he couldn't tell, as Parm had his comm-link right in his face and Artha's view of anything else was quite limited at the moment. Parm and Lance must in a pretty small air duct.
"Lance. Is Lance there?"
Parm's hand moved as Lance pulled the screen towards himself, replacing Parm's face with his own. "I told him to let me talk to you. Hi Artha! It was my plan that got us in. See, I distr…"
"Yes, yes. That's all very good, Lance, but," Parm held up a finger, or so Artha supposed, since he couldn't see, "we're in now. Artha, how far away are you? We should hurry."
"Uh." Artha spared a moment to look around at his current surroundings in Moordryd's purple hued visor. "I'm…going to be coming into Precinct soon."
"What? You're only that far?" Parm squeaked.
"Yes." Artha said, almost defensively. Decepshun and he were going as fast as they could. But maybe if he had Beau…
Decepshun seemed to read his thoughts and growled up at him. Artha ignored her. "Parm, is Word there?"
"No, he isn't. And I don't think he's around. He's put wraiths right around his computer. Completely guarded."
"Well uh…you guys stay put, and try to think of something to get the wraiths away. I'm coming. Don't do anything until I get there!"
"Right, right." Parm said.
Lance interjected impatiently. "But shouldn't we get the computer ready for Ar…"
"No, Lance. Don't do anything until I get there!" Artha demanded of them. Parm nodded, then terminated the connection.
Parm sighed, his sigh actually echoing slightly in the vent. He looked sideways at Lance, who merely rolled his eyes. "He looks like Moordryd…and now he's starting to act like him too."
----------
Beau gasped, then abruptly applied his brakes. Wyldfyr stopped beside him, and looked around himself as blankly as Beau. The two riders gasped in unison. Their lead was now nothing. "A dead end?" Moordryd yelled.
Kitt glanced around them. Technically, there were no walls surrounding them, but the drag way they were on ended, leaving nothing but empty air before them. The only way back was presently blocked by yours truly.
Deth stopped Syrrox and laughed at their predicament. Kitt hadn't expected him to laugh. Though it was done with malicious thinking, it seemed to…humanize him from the raging death trap he had been before. Human though he may be, his laugh sent shivers down her spine. It sounded so erratic and hysterical. But if she had thought his laugh was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck, the sudden silence was worse.
She could hear everything. Wyldfyr and Beau's heavy breathing. Their claws scratching against the street as they shifted slightly. Moordryd's panting as he tried to regulate his own breathing. Her own heart beat, so loud in her ears. She could even hear, or so she thought, the raspy breathing of Syrrox, and the clinking of Deth's armor as he stood.
He raised an arm. His right arm, Kitt noticed, almost uncomprehendingly. Was this it? After all their running, was it all over right here and now? She felt tired and beaten. Moordryd didn't know how to release the dragon, and could not jump over the edge and fly away with Beau. Besides, where would that leave her and Wyldfyr?
Kitt shook her head and gripped Wyldfyr's handles and glared at Deth with new resolve. If they were trapped, she wouldn't give up and let Deth kill Artha's body and the Dragon of Legend. And Moordryd, she added as an afterthought.
Kitt watched Deth as he held out his hand towards them. Was a sign or signal of some sort? His fingers were outstretched, in no way ready to unleash any attack. But then, as Deth looked at them and gazed right into her very being, Kitt was instantly frightened. He was an ancient warrior. Though outstretched fingers was no way to let loose any kind of mag attack, would that really matter to him? Perhaps all he needed to do was snap his fingers and they would all fall dead.
Suddenly, Deth flicked his fingers, immediately making the two humans and dragons standing before him flinch visibly, then sigh immensely when nothing happened. He laughed again, reveling in their fear and the power he held over them. He slowly turned his head towards Moordryd, and spoke. "Dragon Booster. I see you again. I see you weak and ready to fall."
His voice was as dead and emotionless as the harsh wind that sometimes blew its ill tidings into Dragon City. It blew now, and Kitt shivered.
Deth sat back down, the clank of his armor a death note in Kitt's ears. He sat there, as if waiting for something. Kitt wished he would do something. What was he waiting for? For them to make the first move? It seemed so. How kind of him.
"Moordryd," Kitt whispered harshly over, "we need a plan."
"What does he want from me?" Moordryd asked vacantly, not bothering to whisper as Kitt had done.
"Revenge you idiot. Now we need a plan to get out of this dead end."
"You mean fight him?" Moordryd turned to her, and Kitt saw not the heroic hero of the world, but an unsure imitation. She was sure his eyes were worried, but his black visor hid his face. His tongue wet his lips apprehensively. "Look Kitt, we can't fight him. You can't do any mag-moves, and he's…well, a warrior! From the past! He's…"
"So what if I can't do any mag-moves?" Kitt said heatedly and narrowed her eyes as the anger flooded through her. Just because she couldn't do fancy moves like Artha or Moordryd, didn't mean she couldn't fight.
"Please," Moordryd said hurtfully. "You can't do anything of value. He'll shoot you down so quick you won't have time to scream."
Kitt clenched her teeth. "No. I won't let him do that."
"You know you can't fight against him."
"You know," Kitt forced down her sudden feelings of helplessness. Was she really letting Moordryd get to her? "All this isn't really helping."
"Then think of something."
"I WAS!"
Moordryd recoiled ever so slightly, surprised at her outburst. A thin smile passed over his lips as he looked at her in what Kitt could only assume was superiority. Oh, if only she could get her hands around his neck…
Beau growled, pulling Moordryd and Kitt's attention away from each other to Deth. Syrrox had taken several steps in their direction, and Deth was apparently tired of the wait and their little banter. He stood again, this time poised and ready to leap. "Is this the new Dragon Booster?" Moordryd grimaced. "Is the next Dragon Booster so weak? So childlike? Even the original was not as juvenile as you."
"What do you want? Why take out your revenge on me?" Moordryd yelled at Deth. "I didn't do anything. The original idiot did!"
Deth's voice was contrasting compared to his earlier tone. Now it all but reeked of fury and untapped emotion. "The Dragon Booster will be punished for the crime he has committed! You are all the same!"
"But I didn't do anything!"
Deth glowered at him "You are the Dragon Booster! He will pay. He MUST PAY!" As the last lingering note of his rage filled voice tainted the air with its presence, Deth moved extraordinarily quickly.
"Duck!"
Kitt launched herself at Moordryd as the mag-push left Deth's hand in a lightning fast movement. Moordryd was still seething and gaping at Deth as Kitt's body crashed with his, and knocked them both painfully to the ground. But what would Moordryd know? He was the one wearing the armor. Beau had to dash quickly in the opposite direction to avoid the blow.
Kitt climbed off Moordryd and, ignoring his complaints, stood ready for whatever would come next. She tried to ignore the throb of pain in her shoulder, which had come into contact with the armor first, and had been the first part of her body to hit the ground. Moordryd quickly stood beside her. Together they faced Deth, who laughed.
----------
It was Decepshun who saw the mag-push, and it was Decepshun who threw herself to the ground, lowering her head as low as she could. Bracing herself against the impact with the street, she glanced up to see if Moordryd's body was alright. The mag-push brushed his helmet, the blow wrenching Artha's head to the side violently. The mag-push thudded against a nearby building with alarming force, shaking the entire exterior.
"What the scales?" Artha yelled as Decepshun growled and rose from her crouched position, wincing slightly at the scrape on her front legs. Artha's hand flew up to the top of Moordryd's helmet. The top part was gone.
"What was that? Who did that? I don't have time for any distractions!" Such as getting killed, Artha thought angrily as he absentmindedly wondered how mad Moordryd would be when he saw his helmet. But what would I care? It's Moordryd's fault all this happened in the first place!
Decepshun growled, getting his attention. She thrust her head to their left, across a great expanse of nothingness, to the next nearest drag way, which was where the mag-push had come from. Artha didn't know what he was expecting. Some racers who had gotten out of hand, perhaps. But he hadn't expected…
"Beau?" Artha looked on worriedly, and helplessly. There was Kitt and Moordryd, and Beau and Wyldfyr off to the side.
"Is that…that Deth?" For a moment, Artha stared at the mag warrior, who moved with such confidence. Deth, the one out to kill him. And here he was aiming for an innocen…for a completely different person altogether. "We need to get over there now! They're trapped!"
Decepshun looked up at him as Artha bit his lower lip in apprehension. He couldn't stop to help, he had to go to the citadel to get switched, because… "Hey," Artha said suddenly. "I don't have to go all the way to the citadel. If Lance and Parm are in already, and Word's not there, they can activate the computer while I help Kitt and the 'Dragon Booster.'" Decepshun grinned up at him, giving him a sort of congratulations that he finally figured out the best plan.
Bringing up his VIDDscreen and telling Parm and Lance his new plan went smoothly. Lance was happy they'd be doing something and that he had been right, and Parm was excited too, in a scared-to-the-bone sort of way.
"But, but we don't have a way to distract the wraiths from around the computer! And I still have to figure out how to work it, and…"
Artha held up his hand, and Parm, noticing it, went silent. "Parm, you can do it. You're smart. Think of something."
"Like what?"
"I don't know, maybe there's something in the citadel you could use. Just be careful and contact me when you're about to do the switching process. I'll put on the gear then."
"Drac! Come on, Parm. We need a plan." Lance said eagerly to his older assistant.
"Oh dear," was the last thing Artha heard from Parm before he deactivated his VIDDscreen.
Artha reached into Moordryd's jacket and held up the mind switching device, then looked to where Deth and the others were. "I'm almost there, boy," Artha said to Beau, even though there was no possible way his dragon could have heard him.
Moordryd was back on Beau. That was good. And Kitt was back on Wyldfyr. They both were still between Deth and the drop-off. The street in front of them was scarred from recent, fierce mag attacks thrown by Deth while Artha had been talking to Lance and Parmon. Artha willed his friends to hold on a little longer.
----------
Connor felt like cursing. What was Drakkus doing, getting tangled up in this? What possible reason could he have for getting involved? The Dragon Booster's demise? Quite possibly.
Mortis sighed. He couldn't believe he was being forced to do this, being forced to ride Tyrannis through the streets of Dragon City. Through the streets! On an elite dragon! There were reasons why it was banned, but necessity and urgency urged him onward. No one would stop him anyway, he was a Dragon Priest. His only regret was that Deth had Moordryd and Kitt trapped before they could lead him into the less populous parts of the city.
Mortis grimaced angrily. Would he get there before Drakkus reached them and did who knew what? Moordryd and Kitt didn't stand a chance if they had to fight Deth, but with Drakkus zoning in on them as well, they were as good as gone in the blink of an eye. Tyrannis, feeling his rider's impatience, moved quicker through the streets. The beginning had been rough, trying to find the quickest way for Tyrannis Pax to fit through the streets without breaking anything. However, it had all gotten easier when they found Deth's trail and began to follow it.
People on the street, who were just beginning to emerge from their buildings, ran back in as another giant dragon raced on through. Mortis and Tyrannis wound their way through the city, following the winding path. Turning around a particular building, Mortis looked down and saw Captain Faier, talking to a group of people, his back to Mortis. The citizens he was talking to gradually fell silent and gaped at Tyrannis and the Dragon Priest atop him. Mortis saw one mouth his name, and at that silent indication of something going on behind his back, Faier turned.
He looked up, shocked. "What…is that Mortis?"
Mortis nodded his head, and never slowing Tyrannis' pace, soon left them behind, a silly grin on his face. So there were people who still remembered the elite racer, Mortis.
"Where are we going, Mortis?" A voice hissed from behind, a dark intent clear in the tone.
Mortis abruptly stopped Tyrannis, who growled in recognition. Without turning around, Mortis simply replied, "Drakkus."
Drakkus laughed. "How nice to see you again." The manner of his voice made it all too clear that it was most unpleasant to meet him again. Mortis turned Tyrannis around to face him. This couldn't be happening. Though now he knew Drakkus was not going to bother Kitt and Moordryd, (he would make sure of that) he was now worried that they would not be able to escape from Deth without him to help them. What if they were fighting him right now?
"Drakkus, what is your business?"
"My business? What business of this is yours? Wait, you fear for the Dragon Booster's life. A justified fear. I do believe it will come to pass all too quickly. Deth is not to be taken lightly."
Mortis scowled at him. "Yes. But what concern of this is yours?"
"My concern is to see the Dragon Booster's fall. I cannot be sure Deth will finish the job. He has a reputation for…rash decisions." Drakkus spoke bluntly and slowly, which only heightened Mortis' already growing impatience.
"Then why aren't you with Deth now?" Mortis said very sharply.
"Because, old friend, I've sensed you coming." Drakkus motioned with his hand towards Mortis, "and I can't let you get in Deth's way."
Mortis clenched his fists. Now what would happen? Here he was, stuck with Drakkus, and it was highly unlikely that their fight would be over quickly. Moordryd and Kitt were in grave danger, and Mortis had no idea whether Parm, Lance and Artha were at Word's citadel, and how they actually might distract Word, figure out the workings of the computer and perform the switch. How long would all that take? And when they were switched and back into their own bodies, could Artha beat Deth?
