CHAPTER 5

The distant call of memory

"You felt it when we came through it a few yards back, didn't you? The temporal warp in space?"

…

"Hello? Hand to D, wake up!"

D's slight shift in the saddle was the only indication that he was listening. For a moment he was miles away, his thoughts distant and flowing out on the breeze until the harsh voice sent his consciousness crashing back into finite flesh- Flesh that was currently not at the top of its performance due to the high sun. D was used to the typical nausea that came with noon-time, though he would probably never get used to the odd way that the Symbiot in his hand could cut through even the deepest mental fog in an instant.

Maybe it was the gravely tone, or the often vulgar comments that came without recourse… But D knew they had been fused too long to question the mental bond. It didn't need to form a mouth to speak to him most of the time; Their "relationship" as it was, had evolved beyond quite a number of formalities. D couldn't recall what the Symbiots' name was… Or if he even had one to begin with. The line where the Symbiot ended and where D began, had over time turned from a stark line into a gradient smudge like some weathered tattoo, inked just under the surface.

The 'ink stain' continued with a huff, "Why did we stop, then? This is incredibly dangerous! It takes a real badass to trap such a huge area in a dimensional shift. we shouldn't be hangin' out here like sitting ducks!"

The hunter looked solemnly off into the grasses, where the black mound of a dragon's body rested like a leathery boulder in the green haze. He thought of the weary figure in grey that nested in temporary shade at the beasts' legs and considered his options.

The voice groaned, "Oh don't tell me we're stopping for her? Since when did we cater to the weakest link?"

"She will need her strength. Whoever created this warp would have attacked us by now if that's what they had in mind."

"But to spare even a single moment like this? It's not like you, D."

D looked forward to the distance, staring at the horizon and hoping against hope it would bring a better answer than what he could give to the symbiot, or to himself.

"Moments are all we have…"

He couldn't clearly recall where he first heard the remark, but he knew it hadn't sprung from his own mind as the words had a copied feel in his mouth. They echoed across a vast plane of time from a memory half decayed in the recesses of his mind. He could remember a girl in a blue,no-yellow dress sitting across from him on a railing, but not much else beyond the two of them. He couldn't remember the year, or the season, but knew it had been a hot day. She held a flower in her hand and had begun to cry- wet drops of shining crystal staining her yellow dress to a sallow ochre. He may have asked why she was crying, but couldn't recount the words or sound of his own voice to question it. She had looked over to him, with tears coming from eyes he could no longer remember the color of, and had said the words that came to him now… He could think of nothing else to comfort her than to lean in and kiss the lips his present self could no longer recall the warmth of.

"Because these moments are all we have, D..."

Try as he might, it was all he could dredge up of her. A girl that he was certain had been so precious to him despite the fact that he couldn't recall her name, or even her face. A memory that faded out all parts in order of importance until all that was left of her were tears and trembling words. That was the true curse of immortality: No matter how hard you try, all memories eventually faded into lucid snapshots and frayed photographs. Even the ones that make us who we are; Experiences that had once been so detrimental to life and our existence… Our past turns into nothing but an old dream, and D was quite tired of dreaming.

A faint low whistle sounded across the waving grasses. Crete was not quite sure the sound had come from sleep or from the wind, as she slowly rose from the heat exhausted coma. D insisted that they stop for a moment, as the sun had turned her dizzy to the point of nausea. She hadn't said a word, or stumbled a single step out of place, but D seemed to be able to tell the difference between a proud ego moving muscles and not actual strength. In leu of any natural shade, she collapsed in the shadow of Docos mighty form and rested there as one would against a great oak tree... If oak trees grew scales instead of branches, and took deep heaving breaths, that is.

Doco had raised his head and scanned across the field of green then, making her feel certain now that it wasn't just her sun-baked brain playing tricks in the twilight of waking and sleeping. As she rose, a few dark spots on the horizon made her nervous as they neared in quick proximity. She ducked instinctively beneath the grass line. The way they teetered and bounced slightly made it clear that they were a group of men on galloping horses.

"Doco, etra souse'! etra souse- avec'!" she hurriedly whispered to the beasts' ears as she pushed him to alertness.

The look in his polished green eyes appeared that he knew what she wanted, and lowered his head. His black body shifted low to the ground and began to stalk among the grass, disappearing in the sea of green down far to the south of their position. She adjusted the high collar of her caplet before walking onto the dusty road towards D. Both of them watched with heightened eyes as they approached.

"A welcome party, perhaps?" D inquired, not bothering to ask about the condition of her heat sickness. Crete huffed amusedly. His eye sight was probably just as good as hers, if not better and even she could tell a band of thugs from the closing distance.

"We'll see just how welcoming they are to a couple of spike-mouthed vagrants." Crete was already claiming insults with a mildly sardonic tone as she absent-mindedly put a hand on D's saddle by his leg.

"Quickly. Climb up."

His instruction was met with a haughty look and a sharp tone, as she retracted her hand like it had been bitten by a snake.

"I said no before, and I'll say no again. I despise horses- almost as much as I despise riding backside to a man." She hissed.

"And if we need to run? An escape would fare much quicker if you woul-"

"It's too late, anyhow." She interrupted as the galloping steeds closed the gap on them quicker than expected. Crete stood close, though this time without touching, and concealed as much of her face as possible from behind the tatters of Ds billowing coat.

The men thundered up on a random hodge-podge of pieced together cybernetic horses without much ceremony or stealth. Plasma rifles, long spears, and weapons of various stages in advancement were kept at the ready of nine dirty and unkempt men. They appeared malnourished with gaunt features and weathered hands with the exception of the one in the center. Leading his flock like a mother gander at the tip of a skein, he was broad and built for the ship yard with a strong chin and an impressive scar across his openly bare chest.

"This road is being taxed, comrade. Give us what you have of value, and you can go!" his booming voice called out from a few yards away.

"Well, I don't have any food."

D's quip flowed out across the space between them: Offensive, had it not been so mild mannered. The men looked at each other and then back again, ignorantly confused about what he meant. Only the man in the middle seemed to appreciate the dry jab. He smirked as he adjusted himself in the saddle and tossed his chin high in the air to look down his nose towards the pair in front of him.

"Now, now… My fellas may look a little lean, but they're pretty tough! Especially when it comes to mouthy smart-asses who don't take directions very well… Hand over what ya got, and you can go… Last time I'll say it."

The big guy stroked the pistol at his side. The familiar whine of its plasma chamber heating up scurried to everyone's ears and put them on edge. They knew the sound all too well, and what it meant if he didn't get his way. He called the shots, after all. But if the situation called for shots then it was anyone's game afterwards, and all were itching to scramble at a chance to show their meddle. Especially when they caught a glimpse of the pale-faced countenance that was the stranger in black.

When D slowly lifted his head to meet their sights, the air between them changed. The bandits nerves sprung to new heights almost at once. He spurned a discomfort in them that they couldn't quite place. It felt new, and foreign, and therefore immediately deemed unnatural. D didn't have the face of a normal man. He was far too beautiful to be just that… But it was the look in his eyes that made them the most uncomfortable of all: The look of a man who had no fear and nothing to lose.

There was a sudden gasp of air as they saw D reach into his coat. Their eyes went wide as hands clattered instinctively to their weapons, edgy with anticipation at what he might pull from the depths of his inky blackness.

D thumbed a single gold coin into the air. The gold piece limned an arc with a most harmonious sound as it glittered across the sunlit air and landed into the hand of the leader. The man eyed the peculiar coin suspiciously before taking a bite of it, and peering at it again in the sunlight. The gold coin was worth a hundred times its weight in dallas, and could easily feed them for over a year. No one seemed to appreciate the expert aim D had displayed by tossing the coin so haphazardly, only to have it perfectly fall in the leader's unmoved hand.

The leader looked at the hunter and then back at the coin in disbelief before bursting into a great roar of laughter. The rest of the bandits followed suit, not quite sure what they were laughing at. Before long, tears had formed in the tanned creased corners of his eyes that he quickly wiped away with the rise and fall of a chuckled sigh. Laughter was more unpredictable than anger with these types of people, and it made Crete uneasy. She stood stock still, like a nervous doe in a forest. D wasn't amused and kept his eyes trained forward. Giving them a coin wasn't so much as compliance as it was a test.

"Ah, stranger… I don't know where you come from, but they'll be sorely missing you and your generosity."

"Does that mean that we are free to go?"

"We…?"

He shouldn't have said that. Words were powerful things. Suggestive things, in fact. By the simple use of the word 'we', The hardened leader became aware of the pale grey stillness that was Crete at D's side. He had been so distracted by The hunters eerily powerful presence, he hadn't even realized that two people had stood before him. The broad man leaned far out from his saddle to get a better look at her. His smile grew wry as he looked at Crete a few moments longer than he should have before responding.

"Well now, I said for you to hand over what ya got. This is a mite' fine coin you've given me, but that ain't all you got… We'll take your woman too."

Crete narrowed her eyes, disgusted at the thought of being labeled as property, and specifically, under D's assumed ownership. As she drew in a breath to retort, D suddenly responded steely.

"She's not mine to give."

"Well, that's good then! We'll take 'er off your hands since you don't mind an' all-"

"She's not yours to take, either."

The hunter remained still, except for the gentle breeze that lifted and fluttered his long coat. A veritable moving shadow in midday sun, he was in no mood for any more exchanges with these kinds of men. The bandit leader had stopped smirking, and his expression turned dark before he asked a most serious question,

"Are we gonna have a problem, son?"

"I suppose we are." He responded without ego, nor hesitation. D narrowed his eyes as he scanned across the lot of them. Their horses whinnied at the sudden surge of energy in the air. Holstered weapons slung out with hungry tenacity towards D. His black gloved hand went back into the inside of his coat, but this time the cruel silver tips of his needles grazed his fingers instead of precious coin.

"Gentleman! I can speak for myself, you know!" Crete raised her hand high with a theatrical grace as she walked forward and addressed them with a boisterous voice. The group hesitated their aim as she approached, getting a look at what could have been the first woman they had seen in quite a while.

"But of course, you're not ones to hear the words of females, are you? No, the only noises you'd prefer they make are ones like aah! Ooh! Mmm!"

Crete twisted her hip in a suggestive rhythm that made a few of the men lecherously chuckle amongst themselves. She smiled at them eerily as she closed the distance between them with relaxed and casual steps.

"Well, I agree. Words are wasted among us. I much prefer that instead of men talking… They scream instead… Right before I cut a fresh smile into their throat."

It was the broad man in the front with the quicker reflexes. In the blink of an eye, he had his gun trained on a point right between her eyes. The laughter from the other men quickly stopped.

"That's enough a' that, girlie… Now you're gonna drop that knife you've got behind your back, and not put up any more of a fight, or I put one between your eyes, and another in your boyfriend there. What's your answer to that, huh?"

Crete's theatrically amused expression fell as if it were made of shattered porcelain. The small knife she held in her hand that she had found in D's saddle bag, dropped in the dirt with a thud. Damn her luck at being accosted by the only smart bandit in the frontier. She was done playing, and so were they. With a small upturn of her chin her voice came out soft and low to the ground at first before finishing in a firey scream,

"I suppose to that, I say heisaw!"

A familiar thundering noise shook the ground beneath the horse's hooves, and D stilled the gloved hand in his coat. Instead, he took the reigns in both of his hands and commanded his steed take a few needed steps backward.

Doco then sprung from the tall grasses like a stampeding rhino over the entire group. It was surprising that his stealth was able to conceal him so low to the ground and loop around them without being seen, even by the keen eyes of ever-suspicious bandits.

Bones, cybernetic horses, and foolish pride all snapped under the tremendous weight of the creature as he trampled over the men, taking one of them whole in his mouth and chucking the poor animal and the rat-bastard riding him, clear across some 30 yards of grassland. Some of them got off a few screams and miss-aimed shots before the greater dragon snatched up their pistols and rifles with a swift bite. A mighty jerk of his head relieved them of their weapons as he tossed them off into the distance, sometimes with hands and arms still attached. The ones that ran out of ammo, quickly bolted on horseback or scurried off to leave their unfortunate brethren to their fates. None of them had the artillery necessary to pierce the hide of a greater dragon, and they quickly realized that.

Some long past version of herself would have loved this scene of mayhem and punishment for men who would kill over a few measly coins, and for a moment it was as if that old self had taken over as a malicious curve of her lips turned upwards.

"Damn the entitlement of men, and damn the self preserving attitude of your cowardice! You all may have not had the chance to harm me, but this is your retribution for all grievances you've done to people in the past!"

A voice that was not her own seemed to creep across her tongue,

"All of you deserve this…"

"Crete! That's enough."

She turned back and caught the look in D's eyes. He had never said her name before then. The smirk on her lips disappeared as she felt almost embarrassed that it had even been there in the first place. The hunter would have been more than content to stay atop his mount, but the situation sprawled out before him had quickly escalated to a level he was no longer comfortable with. After a moment, she raised her hand high into the air within Doco's field of vision. The dragon halted his amused pecking, trying to get at one of the skinny thugs with a broken sword and screeching like a little girl, who was hiding under two dead horses.

"Doco! Heverta lut'reac now. Let them be."

She replaced the unwelcome emotion with anger as she spotted the leader trying to climb out from under his broken horse in the middle of the road. Cretes' swift boots kicked up an abandoned spear gun into determined hands. She made her way over to the leader who struggled desperately to free his leg as she approached. In an instant, his right hand was pinned to the ground as she fired off a wooden stake the size of a train spike through the leather bracer on his arm nearly a foot down into the dusty tan dirt road.

"Aaaaarrrgh!-"

"Stop your damn wallowing, or I'll put another in your left hand too." She demanded, "This is the worst excuse for a squatter toll I've ever come across. Your pathetic little gang lined up like hens on a fence post, fresh for the cleaving. Amateur move, I must say. I'd suggest you stagger your ranks in the future, but it doesn't look like you've got many 'ranks' left for a next time."

'Squatter Tolls' were originally hastily put together teams of village men who patrolled the outskirts of town, taxing traders and foot traffic in exchange for entrance into their settlements. In lands where the decent of nightfall also meant the decent of ravenous monsters, fortified village walls could mean life or death depending on which side you found yourself on, come dark… And where there was a demand, there are those that would seek to profit from it. "Entry Fees' were a small way for poor frontier sections to be able to generate income outside the community. Criminals and ne'er do wells began to take up the practice, posing as veritable highway men, but it was never just a few coins that would guarantee your passage, nor your life with the likes of them.

Despite the sun in his eyes and the blearing pain of his right forearm that now wetted the dry earth with a pool of fresh red, he still trained an angry scowl on Crete. Never had he been bested by anyone, let alone a woman.

"We're not Squatter Tollers, ya ignorant bitch!"

"If you're not Tollers, then who are you?" She probed gruffly.

"I'm the Mountain of the Eastbrooke! Jagus Unim! No broad's ever got the best of ol' Jagus! 'specially not some chicken legged bitch with no tit-AAGH!"

Another spike shot to the underside of his arm to put a quick end to his insults. It was equally successful in turning those defiant eyes into weeping pools of agonizing pain. He went with his left hand to try and pry his twice-spiked limb from the dirt, before a long shadow and the heady scent of blood loomed over his head. Doco approached warily from above and gave a low growl.

"Touch it, and I'll have my beloved devour you in a single bite. I've no time for your slack-jawed courage, sir. There's not a town for miles on this road, what made you think your stupid little trick was going to work?"

"Worked on yer boyfriend, didn't it? Heh-heh..." He retorted with a hefty smirk. Still in searing pain, Jagus had gumption. Crete tested it by firing a stake into the ground by his head, leaving a fine thread of blood to form across his cheek. His heart seemed to skip a beat before screaming for his life,

"Your god damned crazy! Look, We didn't wanna be out here, but some guy forced us here and told us to kill every traveler who comes along this road, only then would he let us leave!"

Crete looked honestly confused. "Who are you talking about?" she asked with a raised brow, but was only met with exaggerated groans of pain. "Answer me!"

D approached Crete and lightly put a black gloved hand on the shoulder of her white caplet. When she snapped her face to scowl at the gesture, she wasn't expecting the expression that met hers. Maybe the expectation she had was to meet more resistance from D: More of the same hollow drabble that fell along side the spittle pooling out of Jagus' mouth and onto the dry dusted earth as he continued to beg for his life. More empty words and furrowed brows from someone who had no idea what was at stake- how could he? How could any of them? This was necessary.

I have no other choice…

In years past, she would have fed on the dirty ape without hesitation and tossed the withered husk into the weeds where it belonged… Noble blood didn't give the option of restraint when the thirst kicked in. Her father had taught her well that it was a compulsion that couldn't be avoided, and therefore nature itself had dictated her status above human beings. "The vampire curse is given without relevance to personal desires, and therefore should be indulged without guilt…" He would say with pride, "You have no other choice."

Though she tried to prove her merit and lust of killing, she couldn't deny that she had a mother once… A very human mother who had sown a seed of compassion that even blood soaked degradation could not stop from germinating. The beautiful face that looked back at her under the wide brim of his black hat seemed to look right through her and reveal the hard truth. Here she was, relishing in the torture of a man who had admitted in throws of honest agony to being a simple pawn in someone's cruel game, and it made her sick to her stomach. She hadn't even noticed the dull ache in her mouth of growing canine teeth. Father would be proud. D became the clear voice of reason as he asserted,

"This is needless bloodshed. We need to continue onward. Leave him alone. Whatever information he may have will be revealed in time once we crest over that hill up ahead. That's where the real enemy lies, whoever it is."

Her eyes searched across Jagus' pitiful form before lightly swatting D's hand off her shoulder. She didn't like being wrong, any more than she liked feeling embarrassed. She dropped the gun in the dirt, defeated.

"Aur…. Feht…" Jagus coughed out. The strength of this mountain of muscle was now wavering as he barely breathed out the syllables between hackneyed breaths. "His name…Aurfeht. He did some kinda magic on us.. Transported us here weeks ago. We haven't…ugh!… Been able to leave since!"

Cretes' eyes went wide as she tried to stifle the gasp in her throat. It was nearly the worst name she could have imagined to hear… Nearly. In a haphazard act of mercy, Crete bent down and plucked the stakes from his arm. She regarded his wounds as only nicks really, with only a bit of damage to a ligament here or there.

Some mountain… She thought sarcastically as she gave a mighty kick to the heavy mass of cybernetic horse flesh off Jagus' leg so he could move away. He scrambled backwards on his ass away from all of them- especially away from the dragon who had continued to eye him hungrily.

"This is someone you know, I assume?"

One couldn't be certain whether D was asking Crete, or Jagus this question, though the latter didn't seem like he was listening to anything other than the rhythm of his still beating heart. Crete sighed and nodded her head, careful not to meet his steely gaze. He had noticed her slight reaction to Aurfehts' name, and she wasn't particularly interested in revealing anymore than that. If their eyes met again, she was certain he'd know everything then.

"Tell me." D asked, demonstrating a rare pursuit in a line of questioning. Someone who could create this strong of a barrier in time and space was a person of great interest to D, but Crete chose to spare him the details.

After a moment she shook off the serious weight that hung in the air. As she walked away, she playfully responded with "All answers are over the hill, remember?"

The opportunity to rest and stretch his claws had given Doco a renewed vigor. As macabre as it was, the carnage seemed to put him in a better mood for riding, as he didn't hesitate to bow when Crete tugged down on his horn to climb up. D slung himself into his saddle with silent ease, leaving Jagus to stare at them both in bloody and bruised confusion.

"Hey! Hey, don't just leave me here! You busted my arm up, how am I supposed to defend m' self now!?""

He called out angrily waiving his one good arm for attention. Both of them ignored Jagus' indignant yelps. He and his men had just been a distraction, both Crete and D understood that part now. What lay ahead was the real test of wits and strength.

"Care for a race?" The slight smirk at her proposal was disturbing to anyone except D who regarded it with no change in expression. She didn't wait for a response. Doco clamored off in great strides across the green hills. D and his horse galloped at full speed along the dirt road, leaving Jagus and the rest of the carnage behind them in a fine layer of blood and dust. It's a shame she didn't look back: She would have been amused to know her smirk had eventually been returned on his stony expression.