"Permission to take a piss? This bladder hasn't relieved itself in 200 years."
They exited the tomb to be greeted by a greying sky, gently sifting rain on to the parched land. Dark cumulating clouds, grey as iron, stretched around them 'til the dead horizon. A tide of cool wind swept across Leorio's face, temporarily erasing his sweaty need for a smoke.
"I guess flying back isn't an option," Claws commented, coming out from behind him. Six of them lined up under the thin shelter of the tomb's canopy. Leorio felt good enough to stand on his own, but Chains leaned heavily against the wall beside him, fingers massaging his forehead in circular motions. He worried Leorio sometimes. The guy had an obsession for perfection and would use every opportunity to push himself way past his limits, no matter how many times Leorio warned him of the dangers of burn-out.
"It never was in the first place," Clairvoyant responded to Claws. She stood centre of the line, picking the edges of her shawl between her fingers in an uneasy but habitual gesture. "There are far too many of us now and the carpet is too thin. You will have to call your main group. "
Shadow returned from his business, barefoot and strutting, but didn't join them under the canopy. He stood under the fine drizzle and surveyed their surroundings, letting the rain soak his hair and clothes, toes kneading through newly dampened earth. He had thrown back his hood, revealing the dirty-blond hair and a goatee adorning a firm, square jaw.
"Where are we now exactly?" he turned to Leorio, who shrugged in response. Clairvoyant had deliberately withheld their destination when they started that morning. Taking the flying carpet meant he had no bearings or landscapes to work around. In retrospect, that probably was what she had intended since the beginning.
Clairvoyant took the question for him. "Old Settler's Village. After your fight with the rebel leaders, it turned to this," and she motioned to the featureless landscape that spanned uncomfortably before them.
"Sounds like a good story," said Fisher from beside her.
"It's a very long story," said Corpse, "and half of it is onomatopoeia. The other half is Shadow swearing like a motherless brood."
"Wizard warfare," agreed Shadow, nodding energetically. "Never clean. So what's our plan of action then?"
"We find the Royal Guards, and stop them in their tracks," said Clairvoyant.
"That's it? Not exactly the most specific plan, but okay. I'm down for it."
"Excellent," said Corpse gleefully. "I love it when there's room to improvise."
"Feels like yesterday, when the three of us were wrecking shit across the continent," mused Shadow, staring at the sky with a distant longing.
"We will, of course, be entailing the help of the Hunters," said Clairvoyant, letting go of her shawl to wave a lazy hand at Leorio and Chains.
"Sounds good. Who are the Hunters?"
"Us," said Leorio, and a familiar twitchiness returned. His hand was moving to his pocket when he remembered he wasn't carrying anything. He flicked his wrist in repertoire motion, but his hand remained empty.
"Substantial help," said Corpse, with clear skepticism and sarcasm in his tone.
"Nah, the Hunters number at four hundred something," Leorio informed him. "We're a band of mercenary wizards. And as long as you've got the money, we'll do whatever for you."
"You should inform your captain immediately," Clairvoyant cut in.
"I'm spent," said Leorio. "Can't even pull out a goddamn cigarette. And I don't advise Chains to do anything for a while."
"I'm good," Fisher volunteered. "What do I need to say? Doc's summary is way too long."
"Just say we've revived the Taken, and they're hiring us for a job. And we need transport back to camp. Get it straight to the captain," said Chains.
"Got it," said Fisher, bringing two fingers to his mouth. Smoke plumed out of his mouth as he relayed the message and it coalesced around his upheld digits. With a snap of his fingers the ball of smoke went ballistic and sped off to wherever Dollface was.
Corpse turned to Fisher expectantly. "Think you can summon some food while we wait?"
Fisher didn't answer. Instead he looked faint and slid heavily against the wall, falling gracelessly to the ground like a rag doll.
"Guess not," said Corpse. He looked to Claws. "What about you?"
"No can do," he replied, not looking at Corpse, who frowned.
"He just joined," Leorio cut in. "He hasn't established a link to our kitchens."
"That and I've also got zero magical ability," said Claws, spurning Leorio's dissemble. Leorio briefly wondered if it was a touchy subject for him. Claws' stolid nature made it difficult to tell.
Somehow, Corpse's frown grew deeper and more puzzling. Leorio was in a good enough position to see a look of mild disbelief flash across the Taken's face before he looked away.
Leorio turned his attention to Fisher. "You okay?"
"M' good," he murmured back.
"Just take a nap. You too, Chains."
"Think I will." Chains handed the length of the Aterian rope he had been holding to Claws and sat himself next to Fisher. Fisher leaned against his shoulder, and Chains tilted his head to rest on Fisher's head. They were both deeply asleep in seconds.
"Cute," commented Shadow, stepping under the canopy to join them. He took a place between Claws and Corpsebinder, and leaned against the wall taking a very casual stance, with one leg bent to press his foot against the wall.
Claws inched away from him and spoke to Clairvoyant. "You keep mentioning the 'Royal Guards'…" he probed for an explanation.
"Yes," she began. "They're the – "
"Scum of the earth."
"Utter filth."
Clairvoyant smiled at the truculent input. "Yes. The Shapeshifter, The Puppeteer, and Darkwing. They are the direct siblings of the King, and they devote their entire life to him. They're almost equal to the King in terms of their raw collective power, so first, I suggest we revive the other Taken, and enlist them to help us."
"Problem there. What if they don't want to?" pointed out Shadow.
"Burn them," she said with a sudden spike of malice in her voice.
Leorio made a mental note to ask around for any books about the Taken.
From the distance, a small ball of smoke whizzed towards them and stopped before Fisher's sleeping body. The smoke dispersed to reveal a thread of fuchsia light, twisting and curling in on itself. Dollface's voice scribbled into focus.
"This is a live feed, boys. What's your status?"
"We're all fucking spent. Fisher and Chains are asleep and I'm barely hanging on myself. Best you talk with the lady."
"Give me to Madam Clairvoyant."
Clairvoyant took the thread at the edge of her fingertips and balanced it there. She gestured to the other two Taken, and they followed her to the edge of the sheltered canopy, just out of earshot of Leorio.
"Are we really going to accept the job from them? Of all people?" Claws said, moving away from the Taken and towards Leorio, hands in his pocket. It looked like his left hand was clenched, probably around the rope.
"Yeah, sure we are. The hunters are no strangers to complicity. Plus, if I'm hearing this right, we're being offered even more gold. Doll would never turn that down." Pitching his voice lower, he added, "Claws, what do you know about the Taken?"
"What everybody knows," Claws said in an equally low voice. "They're the heartless bastards who destroyed Yorbia. Even if they're not working for the King, they're still dangerous. They're said to kill without remorse."
"Ironic coming from a professional hitman."
Claws started and shifted his gaze to the horizon. "It's different," he muttered.
On the other side, Clairvoyant turned and the thread floated over to them, stalling at Leorio's shoulder height. "We're taking it. I'm sending a carriage to you guys. We're not camped off too far." Her voice was coiled with a slight irritation.
"Something wrong, cap?"
"The hunters were attacked again. Now the local syndic's throwing a bitchfit about our being here."
" 'suspect we'll be mobile soon enough," said Claws.
Doll's voice cut off. The light-thread dissolved into a cloud and dispersed into the air.
"Guess we don't need the rope after all. Can I keep it? Just as a failsafe of course." Claws removed his hands from his pocket and began flexing his fingers in a series of tension releasing exercises. Leorio made another mental note to ask about the claws he had seen before. He hadn't really been in a place to wonder about it at the time but now he was curious. Maybe he'd be allowed to examine them once they got back to camp.
"Sure," said Clairvoyant benevolently.
"Claws, got a cig on you?" Leorio asked.
"Yeah I think I could." Claws flicked his wrist a few times. Achieving nothing, he sat cross legged on the ground and physically scratched out the spell into the rough dirt with his finger. A single joint appeared between his fingers, which he threw to Leorio.
"Kid, that was just sad to watch," said Shadow. Claws shrugged off the comment nonchalantly.
Leorio examined the cig between his fingers. Azian brand, a little more expensive than the stuff he would buy. Not that he was being picky of course, not when his lungs were screaming at the sight of it. He tried to light it and had to hold back an irritated growl when his magic refused to co-operate.
"Let me help you with that," Corpse said. He flicked a finger at Leorio and the butt of the cig flared and lit.
"Thanks." Leorio placed it between his lips and breathed in, feeling soothing relief as his stiff muscles loosened up under the familiar influx of nicotine.
"So fill us in boys," said Corpse. "What's the situation like in Yorbia now? Who are the new King's and so forth?"
"No kings here. Haven't had any for a while. Not since the Anarchy Wars," said Leorio.
"Okay, no Kings. What are the Anarchy Wars?" Corpse asked with a hint of impatience, maybe frustration.
Leorio rubbed his temple with the heel of his wrist. "Chains would be the ideal person to explain this; he's studied the history." He glanced at his sleeping form.
"But I'll do my best. So, um –." He cleared his throat.
"After the kingdoms fell after the King's death –sorry, burial – there was a vicious continent-wide grab for power, everyone breaking shit and burning things to prove they could run the kingdom. Typical anarchy, hence the name. Things escalated to full out war and the entire continent was run into the ground. Everything from the Golden Age was undone or stolen by pirates from other continents. Things go on like this for a long time. Some individuals get a better foothold in all this mess and they could hire private armies to fight for territory. Fast forward to the present time and things are pretty much stable, and there are syndics taking care of their respective territories. There isn't a proper central government but occasionally the syndics will put up a civil front and ratify treaties and pretend to be in accord and act like that. Sometimes when power is handed over to a new Syndic they get cocky and try to overrun their neighbors and shit falls over again but that is essentially how the continent is run now. Yorbia hasn't had its shit together in a long time."
Leorio took a very long breath from his cig and held it, appreciating the feeling of the smoke curling inside his lungs.
"Typical," said Shadow angrily. "You'd think the death of a tyrant would lead to peace, but this – "he faltered for words and kicked the wall, creating a web of cracks in the cement. Claws flinched and took a step back.
"It was inevitable," said Clairvoyant, but she sounded like she didn't believe herself. "Chaos and the resulting feudalism will always find its place. Humans are the same no matter what kind of political rock is dropped on them." Her voice was mechanical, monotonous, like she's reciting from an old fable just for comment's sake.
Shadow sat down and crossed his arms. "This isn't what we were fighting for," he muttered. None of the Taken replied. Leorio didn't feel the need to do so either. He just focused on his cigarette, trying not to let the dizziness get to him.
"And NGL?" said Corpse after a while.
"What's that?" asked Leorio.
"The islands down south-east."
"Hell, that's all wasteland. Whatever land isn't flooded is salted and uninhabitable."
Corpsebinder once again went morosely quiet, but his eyes spoke in tortured volumes. Shadow shot him a look of sympathy but didn't comment.
A rambling noise of turning wheels and deep barking cut through the silence. A carriage drew up beside them, driven by large two dark Mastiffs that were closer to the size of a dire wolf than the typical dog of their breed. Leorio recognized Breeder and Melody at the drivers' helm.
"Hello," said Melody in her defining sing-song voice.
"Yikes, you guys look like you were run over by a herd of elephants. Evening, ma'am, sirs." Breeder tipped his hat at the Taken. The Hunters could not have possibly been told about their new employers so he was only exercising an established etiquette.
"Feels like it too," murmured Leorio, stomping his cigarette into the dirt.
Leorio and Claws shook the other two awake and half carried, half dragged them to the carriage and shoved them to the seats, where they once again passed out.
The cover of the carriage consisted of a gray canvas tapered over curved wood panels and it was comfortingly dark inside. Leorio and Claws sat down on the smooth wooden seats with the sleeping duo between them. The Taken came in with the rolled up rug and seated themselves opposite them, throwing the rug to the space between their feet. In the dark their silhouettes looked unremarkably human, not the least bit indicative of their turpitude. Once again, Leorio was reminded of how odd their situation was.
"Gonna take a bit over half an hour to get back," Breeder called from the front. With a 'Hiya!' the dogs took off and the carriage shuddered into motion.
Leorio finally let the waves of exhaustion drift him off into a restful sleep.
A/N: This chapter was such a bitch to write. The next three are more or less drafted out and they're already of much better quality.
That said, the next chapter is a wallop of a chapter, and also I consider it pretty important. I won't be posting it until I'm happy with all of it, down to the last nitty gritty word. That might be a while.