CHAPTER 3

Descent from thy holy garden

D whisked through the forest following a trail only he could see. His feet barely touched the ground before lifting off again at incredible speed like a leaf on the wind. A hoarse voice taunted him along the way.

"Unbelievable! That giant monster tried to kill you this morning. Have you forgotten that?"

"I haven't." He responded, slightly annoyed at being chastised by his own hand,

" And what proof do you have that the whole scene with the noble woman wasn't Crete's doing entirely, to throw you off her trail? Faustino warned you that she was a talented actress, did he not?"

"Was it all her doing? You would know."

"Well!… N-No, it didn't appear that way." It doesn't mean she still ain't bad news."

The hoarse voice seemed indignant in his stammering, before chewing out the truth in a mumble. The symbiot was particularly adept at the subtle castings of magic. Had it been Crete who was conjuring up the entire scene, he would have surely sniffed out the threads of faerie glamour that lead back to her own hand.

"Your employer just wanted Crete's head, not the entire clan. Why go through all this trouble just for the same amount of profit?"

"If it makes no difference as to whose head they're given, then I'd rather collect the right one."

D remarked in his usual matter-of-fact way as he swiftly bounded between the trees, not really following a straight or easy path among the foliage. The hoarse voice resigned with a defeated sigh. He was certain that they where digging themselves deeper than they had to for this job, but there was no convincing D otherwise. Despite being lodged into his left hand all these years, the parasitic entity was no closer to knowing the inner workings of D than any passing vagrant on the street. While they shared a body and perhaps a bit of consciousness, his heart and soul still remained the hunters' own.

Within a minute, he stopped short of a rocky outcrop overgrown with lush green vines that hung like Yamanba hair, shading it just out of reach of the sunshine. A black hooded figure rested casually underneath it, his hand rested on a beaten up leather box.

"Malthesic, I assume. You poisoned the water downstream." D began. The figure sat up straight and tossed his hood back to reveal a weathered face of an old man, far beyond his given time on earth.

"You would assume correct, good sir."

Malthesic smiled at him, the heavy wrinkles of his lids nearly covering the peculiar blue within blue eyes that stared intently at the hunter. The Alchemist had been a servant of the Vidraru family his entire life, just as his father before him had been. Layers of malicious terror infllicted on others with his craft had built up around any semblance of a heart ages ago. He had no trouble dousing entire villages with his poisons, if it meant to live another day under the boot of his noble lord.

He had created poisons that turned people into monsters, zombies, or into the very creatures of the night that they hated most. His toxins could quickly melt flesh from bone before screams could even burst from acid-eroding mouths. His maniacal laughter from just out of sight was his only signature, as he gained a sexual thrill from the suffering of others just out of view. He leaned forward a bit, poorly disguising his wicked spirit with a kind smile.

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage. These old bones just can't get up and go like they used to. I can't compete with such… Prime athleticism."

His last remark came with an obvious lecherous tone as blue within blue eyes searched over D's lean figure. D didn't seem put off in the slightest to an old man coming on to him. He raised his right hand behind his head to grasp the sword hilt. Malthesic stopped smiling then.

"Wait! Just an old joker, I am. Now-now, no sense in harming an old man just for doing his job, eh?"

Sensing the dark aura that had destroyed Valea's enchantments, he knew his was not a game the hunter was willing to play. His wrinkled hand dipped into the leather brown box at his side, and pulled out a vial of emerald green liquid.

"T-This is what your lookin' for, right? It-It's the antidote, I swear on my own life!"

D remained silent as the sharp silver gleam of his longsword slid from the black scabbard on his back. It glinted the sunlight into the old man's eyes as he nervously raised the blue vial to the hunter in an offering of peace.

"Come on, now! D-Don't do that! You wouldn't really cut down an old man, would ya? I'm only doing my job!"

"So am I…"

Malthesic's nervous laughter did little to inspire sympathy in the Hunter as he took a step forward with the sword held low at his hip. The old man skittered back against the hard rock, certain that his death now towered over him. Suddenly, a slight wavering in D's step turned Malthesic's nervous grunts into a low cackle.

The hunter stepped backward, and shut his eyes tightly.

"Somethin' wrong with your eyes, son? A bit of an itch? Hehe, must be something in the air!"

D took another misstep backward and fell down to one knee, propping himself up by sticking the end of his longsword in the ground. He coughed up a smattering of blood on the ground as Malthesic got to his feet, and slung the leather box over his shoulder in an accomplished manner. He was rather proud of his 'whimpering coward' routine.

"Could be you're allergic to Rag Plant, or the Foxfoot over there…"

The old alchemist leaned in a bit to revel in his prey's suffering. D covered his eyes with a free hand as drops of blood began to roll down his porcelain face.

"Could also be the Virgin's Tear spice that I blew into the air, just seconds before you came up on me. You see, the fun thing about this toxin is that it doesn't matter if you cover your nose and mouth since this little bit o' devil's dust goes in through the eyes and rots you from the inside out. Fortunately, I created these handy antitode drops. Didn't you notice my odd oculars?"

D pulled down the scarf from his face and took a gasping breath. Malthesic laughed at how quickly the tables had turned. He had made a simpering pup out of the living embodiment of his own death. He outstretched his feeble hand that still clutched the emerald green antidote in it and dangled it confidently at D.

"That traitor bitch deserves to suffer, and her death has been a long time coming, hunter. Guess you wont be needin' this, afterall. Hehe-"

His gloating wasn't the only thing cut short when a clean flash of silver sliced off his outstretched hand. The blade had met such little resistance at chopping off the withered husk of an apendage, that the Alchemist took a moment to register the sudden influx of seering hot pain that washed over his brain. In a dry scream, he reeled back clutching the bloody stump. A toxic spice that turned organs into liquid rot, wouldn't leave a person in the mood to be mocked- especially not D.

"Maybe you shouldn't talk so much while the blind can still hear."

The feminine voice didn't belong to either of them. Crete stood just barely out of sight, still clutching the double ended blade from earlier. Apparently, she didn't take well to waiting for a complete stranger to decide the fate of her beloved companion, and had come anyway. She watched in disgust as Malthesic rolled in agony, kicking over the leather box and coating vines, rock, and dirt with a spray of fresh blood.

"You look like a hundred miles of bad road, Malthesic. And that was before D took your hand off."

"You bitch! You devil's whore! I'll kill you both, do you hear me!? My hand! My god damned hand- argh!"

Crete ignored him to walk over and search the tipped over leather box. Broken vials and liquids she dare not touch with bare hands seeped out and smoked onto the ground. One of the liquids slowly made a silvery path on the ground, as it turned the blades of grass into silver streaks of a high density alloy. Another was causing a spurt of wild roses to grow at an alarming speed along the ground and up the side of the rocky outcropping. God knows what tortures he had used these vials for.

Carefully, she plucked out a small dropper filled with a dark blue liquid and placed a dab of it in each of her eyes. It had been many years since she had seen Malthesic, but memory served her well that he was still a creature of habit. His leather box of tricks, given to him by his father, was still organized in exactly the same way as it had been when far less wrinkles donned his face- When much more of a man, and far less of a monster could be seen reflected in his eyes.

Crete turned her now blue within blue eyes from the writhing Alchemist to the haggardly breathing hunter. She watched him for a moment, with an emotionless expression. Seeing the suffering of another, normally inspired sympathy and an instant need to help. It was a mystery what the scene inspired in Crete, as she seemed in no hurry to ease either mans' pain.

She eventually walked over to D and pulled his hand away from his bloody face. After a few curt words exchanged, Crete eventually got him to open his eyes so she could the administer the drops, and got him to his feet. He refused to use her as a crutch and pushed her at arm's length when she tried to help any further.

Malthesic's screams had silenced, as the profuse bleeding had slowed his death throws. His eyes started to gloss over, and his skin had turned as white as bleached parchment. It had given the rapidly growing wild roses from his spilled potions permission to creep down the vines from above, blanketing him in a flowering death shroud. Once the silvery liquid had soaked into the roots of the plant, it quickly traveled up each tendril transforming it's lush blooms into gleaming metal.

In a sudden moment of clarity, the old man looked at the silver roses and stared out at Crete who had turned her back on him to argue with a stubborn D.

"I..wonder…what makes…the wild rose, wilt? I… wonder what makes… the steel rose, rust? Hah…do you remember, Crete? Or have you… forgotten?"

A wry smile spread across his thin mouth. A last taunt, that none save only a few, including her, could understand. Crete stopped and slowly turned. A red fire burned through the blue that shielded her eyes from the poison spice in the air. The look of a demon, like the ones that where waiting for him in hell- shot right into the soul of the dying man.

"No, I haven't. But you forgot something…"

"And what's… That?"

"This-"

A fiercely hurled double sided blade spun through the air, sliced through the metal roses, and sank into the Alchemist's skull with a sickening thud. His expression, with his twisted smirk and lecherous eyes, remained frozen in time. Eternally locked forward on Crete, mocking her every step from this moment on until she finally followed him into Hell. His metal rose casket would surely stand the test of time until then.

†

Despite his insides slowly returning from melted mush, and his sight completely useless, D was still able to run like the wind back through the forest without a single branch snagging his billowing coat. Crete had snatched up the poison antidote from Malthesic's severed hand and both descended upon the still mass of Doco, still near the water's edge, and still near death. She quickly poured the entire contents of the antidote into the mouth of the dragon, and impatiently waited for any signs of health returning. D stood by the water and held his left hand over his eyes.

"How much time?"

He asked quietly. The barely audible hoarse voice in his hand grumbled,

"Well, the drops definitely helped neutralize the effects of the spice. It's still going to take time to replenish an eye, let alone two. I'll need at least a day."

"you have until sunset." D addressed the voice curtly and didn't wait for an answer before lowering his hand. Crete approached, and looked forward, instead of directly at him.

"It's going to take time for the antidote to work through his system, so it appears that I'm still trapped here with you until then."

She seemed genuinely irritated at the idea of having to be saddled with the hunter for even longer.

"You could have left me, if you were in such a hurry to leave."

D's frosty attitude left little sympathy for her plight. He hadn't asked for her assistance, and despite losing his sight, could sense very well that there had been a moment of contemplating doing nothing for him during his moment of agony. Crete tossed her hand in disregard with a sneer.

"Oh, your so welcome! Please, don't thank me. Think nothing of it, Sir…"

Her sarcasm turned dark as she turned to glare closely at his closed-eyed visage before adding,

"Happily, would I have left the both of you to writhe in your own torments- as all men deserve! The world is cold and punishes kindness, so make no mistake, hunter: I am not kind. I am merely the last ideal of the true nobility. No one but a coward claims opportunistic victory over an enemy."

"Still enemies, are we?"

"You tell me. Besides, I'm certain you would have done the same had the tables been turned."

Week old coffee held less bitterness than Crete. Without another word, she went back to lie beside Doco, and gently petted at his knobby leathered muzzle. Despite the opinion she had of the hunter beginning to blur, the affection she held for the dragon was unmistakable. D simply kept his back to them, keeping watch like a sightless stone guardian.