Matthew - Shadow Tag part 2
Finding where Branta's Badgers were camped wasn't very difficult. Surely there could only be one town in the area who's mayor was mentally challenged enough to hold a horse fair in the middle of a civil war like nothing was going on, and as he could clearly see the horse pens from his current vantage point, this had to be the place.
Of course, Matthew had no intentions of entering the town. Or even approaching close enough to be spotted by the guards. So he collapsed the spyglass he had been looking at the town through, and considered the surrounding area.
Which direction would Karel come from? North? He'd be coming in from Sacae that way, which would make sense. And there were other towns sworn to the Prince that way, which is where Grant said he was seen. West would also make sense, as there was an easy to follow road that ran out from the west of the town, also leading to towns sworn to the Prince.
Coinflip chance then. Matthew shrugged and made the judgment call, heading for the north. He knew Karel hadn't made it here yet at least. The peddler on his way out of the horse fair that morning didn't stop to chat with Matthew long, but he did manage to hear that the Badgers still had a green haired Sacaen swordsman working for them. He'd wished the old man gave him a bit more time to ask questions, but time was money and all that.
Making his way to the northern field, Matthew kept down and got moving. Trying to find one man on the way in without even knowing for certain if this was the way he would take perhaps wasn't the best plan he'd ever had. But...he couldn't think of a better one that didn't involve going into the town and facing Guy. Which he just couldn't do. That probably makes me a coward. But it's not like I've got any honor to preserve anyway. I just hope my guess is right...
Something just wasn't right about the picture that Matthew was seeing. Two days out from the town, he had spotted a small camp with only a single occupant. One that he recognized quite well. With his flowing black hair and graceful motions, the Sword Demon was an easy man to recognize, even from a distance.
But…he seemed to be moving away from the town. When Matthew first noticed that, he felt a moment of sheer dread. Could Karel have already done what he came to do? But a second observation cast doubt on that assumption, as well as everything Matthew thought he knew about the man.
Karel, the ruthless murderer known as the Sword Demon, was not carrying a sword.
He had never, from the moment Karel joined Lord Eliwood's army, seen the man without a blade. Not just without A blade, Matthew mentally corrected, without THAT blade. Why doesn't he have the Wo Dao?
As he watched Karel sitting in his camp and sipping a drink, Matthew slowly backed up to keep the camp just within his range of vision as he waited for night to fall. Whatever the reason, it makes this a lot easier on me.
It was a fairly dark and still night. The darkness worked to his advantage, even as the silence worked against him. The slightest accidental movement would be heard, and would wake his quarry. Which was something Matthew wanted to avoid at all costs. As strange at it would be for Karel to not carry his blade, the spy couldn't guarantee he didn't have it. Perhaps hidden in his bedroll. Perhaps just lying in the grass where Matthew couldn't have noticed it from the distance he watched from before.
Regardless, it meant caution was the rule of the day. Even if Karel didn't have his sword, all it would take was one bad move. One mistake, and he could get Matthew's sword away from him. Then it would be over.
Staring down that dragon didn't scare me like this. Matthew kept down the strange nervous laughter he was feeling inside. Was it because he was alone? Or simply because this was the most dangerous enemy he had ever committed himself to fighting? Except that he's not. He's no Nergal, and sure as hell isn't a dragon.
Was it simply because of what he was planning to do? It wasn't the first time he had killed a man in his sleep, so he wasn't sure why it would suddenly bother him now. Never anyone I once called an ally, though.
Shaking off the feeling, wherever it stemmed from, Matthew put his hesitation aside and approached the camp. I'm either saving his life or avenging him. Either way…this has to be done.
He was close now. Twenty feet. Then only fifteen. Then ten. He couldn't see any depressions in the grass where a sword might be laying, but that didn't mean he was safe.
Only five feet away now. Matthew hadn't made a noise, and Karel hadn't stirred. Two more steps and he was close enough to strike.
Matthew stepped in. One step. Two. Three steps. He should have struck already, but now he was directly beside Karel's bedroll.
Knife already drawn, he knelt down. Slowly, following an instinct all of his training told him was a bad idea, Matthew placed the knife to Karel's throat. "Wake up."
The words were unnecessary, Karel had snapped awake the moment the cold steel touched him. Without flinching even the slightest, Karel calmly greeted his assailant, "Matthew. I had been wondering when this would happen."
Not allowing Karel's words to lower his guard, Matthew kept the knife exactly where he had placed it, confident that if the Sword Demon tried to do anything he could strike faster from his position. But that didn't mean the words didn't get to him, "What do you mean?"
It was hard to see Karel's face in the dark, but Matthew could swear the man almost smiled, "From the first moment I drew my sword against Guy, I knew you would find me. But even still, I could not resist the urge to kill him."
Those words, and the way Karel said them, left a leaden feeling in the pit of Matthew's stomach. One he wished he could pretend wasn't there. Keeping his voice and his hands steady, he asked the question he needed answered, "So you killed him?"
"No," Karel replied, "he yet lives."
The leaden feeling began to lighten, though Matthew dared not sigh in relief even as he put the pieces together, "He got away from you then. You understand I have to kill you before you find him again then?" It bothered him that he was still talking yet. That he hadn't just done it. Just what am I trying to do here, ask his permission?
Even with the point of Matthew's knife at his throat…Karel laughed. It was a strange sound, like it held genuine amusement rather then the sort of malice or psychosis he had always imagined whatever counted as mirth for Karel would have.
Frankly the sound creeped him out. It was getting harder to keep his hand still, but he had to keep control. If he slipped… "What's so funny?"
"I see," Karel continued to chuckle at the situation, "you won't let yourself see it at all. I can't blame you, I had trouble believing it myself and I was there."
"What. The hell. Are you talking about?" The laughter was getting to him. The cryptic words just as much. He shouldn't be cracking here, he was a professional. He didn't crack. But after the events of the last few days, Karel was getting to him in ways that he hated himself for allowing.
"Matthew…" Karel's laughter died away and he explained very plainly, "You're too late. I already found him again. And I lost."
Matthew understood the words, but the meaning seemed like fog in his mind. Guy defeated Karel? It wasn't one of the possibilities he had considered at all. Largely because he hadn't considered it possible. It did occur to him that Karel might be lying though, so he searched for the clues, what might be out of place. It didn't take him long to think of one. "So how are you still alive then?"
"I ask myself the same question." Karel easily answered. "I relive the fight in my mind over and over, and always the same thing happens. He evades my strikes. He blocks the Astra Slash. Then he disarms me. Never does he strike the killing blow that should have come."
How do you beat a guy like Karel, in a real fight, not just some sparring match, without killing him? Matthew had to admit he was nearly as perplexed as Karel seemed to be. And part of him inside felt a little ill at realizing he understood Karel's point of view better then Guy's.
"Every time I think of it," the man once feared as a demon continued, "I think that perhaps I am truly dead, and this time I will recall the true events of that fight. That Guy would have struck my head from my shoulders rather then the Wo Dao from my hand. But nothing ever changes. I found him with intent to kill, but still he spared my life."
"Why?"
Karel could only give the answer Guy himself did. "Because he isn't me. Or perhaps I should say he isn't us."
Matthew wanted to argue. Wanted to claim that he was better then Karel. But he couldn't, not even to himself. I found him with intent to kill. And I wasn't even planning on offering a fair fight first.
Taking his knife from Karel's throat, Matthew put the blade away and just sat down on the ground next to the man's bedroll.
Karel sat up, but made no attempt to reach for a weapon, or even move away from the man who had just held a blade at his neck, "You have nothing to fear from me. I left the Wo Dao in his care. And…" the demon laughed a bit, still a strange sound to Matthew's ears, "to be honest I don't think I would know what to do with a blade right now even if I held one."
"Losing rattled you that hard?" Matthew snorted, "Everyone loses sometimes."
"It wasn't the what," Karel shook his head, "it was the how. Only twice did he swing his blade at me. Once a mere graze, intended not to strike but to force me to retreat. And the other at my blade instead of my body." Turning his head, he gave the spy beside him a searching look, "How do you win a battle without attacking, Matthew?"
"I…" Matthew thought about the very concept and had to shrug, "I don't know."
Karel nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "Guy does."
He's done a lot of growing up since then, hasn't he? Matthew sighed, not really wanting to think about how Guy was doing, but ever since he'd made the decision to come after Karel he hadn't been able to keep it from his mind. In an attempt to change the subject, he asked about something else he was wondering, "So what are you going to do from here?"
"I'm not sure." Karel shrugged, "I need to learn what he knows, but I don't know how. Perhaps I will simply wander until I understand why the Saint is superior to the Demon. Until I can learn that...I can only wield half of a sword."
"Maybe you should go see your sister?" Matthew wasn't sure why he suggested it, but it just seemed like the right thing to say.
Karel was quiet for a very long moment before nodding, "Maybe I should. I have spent so long avoiding her, for her sake and mine I did not wish to become close. But...perhaps it is time."
It was an odd thing, talking so easily with a man who he once thought had no emotion but bloodlust. Who did nothing but kill. For her sake and his. Where have I heard that kind of sentiment before?
Long into the night the defeated demon and the troubled assassin spoke. And when Matthew woke in the morning, Karel was already gone.
"You wouldn't happen to have a brother out in Tarmung, would you?" Matthew, in his new guise as the bounty-hunter Maxim, casually struck up a conversation with a soldier sitting alone in the tavern. A soldier with fair skin, golden eyes and black hair.
The morph looked over at the man hailing him and shrugged, "Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"
That was all the invitation Matthew needed to pull out a seat at the morph's table and plop himself down in it, "Was working over there last week, saw a guy who I swear looked just like you. Same eyes, same hair, even the same facial features." Holding his hand out to the morph, he introduced himself, "Maxim, by the way. Bounty-hunter."
The morph shook Matthew's hand, then nodded his own greeting, "James. So I have to ask, are you hunting bounties for the Prince or the King?"
He's with the prince then. Matthew had long since noted that grunts who ask that question always seem to put their side first. Making a mental note to write that information down later, he waved off the question, "Less of either one and more for the local guards, magistrates, people like that. I hunt criminals, not deserters."
"There good money in that?" James wondered aloud.
Matthew nodded, "Good enough, if you're fast and know how to bring your marks in alive." Amusingly enough, he had been doing a fair amount of completely legitimate bounty hunting work ever since adapting this guise. And as he was both fast and able to bring them in still breathing, the money was better then he expected it to be. Nowhere near his stipend from Ostia, but easily enough for a smart fighter to save up and retire early on.
"Hmm." James took a sip of his drink and considered that, "I may have to look into that myself after this bloody war is over. So..." he hesitated a minute, then asked the question Matthew was hoping to get, "Over in Tarmung you said? A man who looks like me?"
"Yeah," the spy nodded, "close enough that I thought you were him for a minute. You sound a little concerned, think there's something to it?" Normally he wouldn't push for that kind of information this soon into the conversation, but he'd discovered over the last few weeks that even the intelligent morphs weren't the sharpest knives on the rack.
"Might be," James nodded, taking the bait laid out for him, "I don't...well, this might sound crazy but I don't really remember much before about three weeks ago. Came to on the side of the road wearing half a uniform. I remember my name, and the folks here told me I had to be with the Prince's army, so I've just been going with that."
Honestly, it was so easy to get their stories out of them that Matthew was a little suspicious. It's almost like they're SUPPOSED to be willing to talk about their pasts. Or lack thereof. Still, he gave an understanding nod and offered some comforting words, "Not the first fighting man I've seen that happen to. One good crack in the wrong spot on your head can do funny things to your memory if it doesn't kill you."
"Sergeant Barnes said the same thing." James waved at the serving woman to let her know he wanted another mug, then smiled at Matthew, "Well, even if it turns out to be nothing, thanks for telling me about it. Maybe someone out that way will know where I'm from."
Matthew took that as a good opportunity to excuse himself from the conversation, easing up from the table and giving the morph a friendly nod, "Good luck with that. Anyway, I'm here on business so I ought to get to it." With that, he polished off his own drink, the cheapest and weakest ale the tavern served of course, and slid outside to go find a private place to review his notes.
Ever since he'd parted ways with Karel, Matthew had put Guy's situation out of his mind and gotten to work. Grant's notes about the morphs were fairly thorough, if scattered around the margins of the prayerbook, and Matthew was adding to them constantly. Another one who thinks he's just an amnesiac. Makes the third of those I've run into. Two others knew they weren't human, but had no idea who their creator was or what their purpose was. They just knew they were supposed to go mingle with normal people for some reason.
Finding a good secluded spot, he pulled out the book and added his own observations from today's meeting. It was tempting to stick around longer and see what this James did with the information Matthew had given him. I could find out who his officer is, then forge some orders for him to send some men to Tarmung. Follow along and see what happens when he meets the morph back there. It was a tempting plan, especially considering the morph in Tarmung knew what he was, just not what he was supposed to be doing. Spying on that meeting might unveil some fairly nice information. James's reaction upon learning what he really was could be particularly informative.
It could be information he really needed, at that. For all the intelligence he was getting on the morphs themselves, it hadn't gotten him any closer to finding where they were coming from. Every one of them had a different story about where they first gained consciousness. Which meant whoever was making them was being cautious. More evidence that it's actually not Nergal. Matthew made a note of that thought in the book, Nergal was never this careful, never covered his tracks that well. He was all about overpowering his problems, or just having minions assassinate them. This is too neatly planned, too well thought out.
Which, as far as he was concerned, made whoever this was considerably more dangerous in the larger picture then Nergal ever was. A brute, even a brute with incredible magical power, could be taken down once you knew what cards he had. Outmaneuver him to make him waste that power, or just figure out his limits and bring more force to bear yourself. Between Grant and Lord Hector they did pretty fair jobs of both.
But here Matthew was, playing chess against an opponent who's face he couldn't see, nor could he even know what pieces were on the board. The advantage here is that he may not know exactly who he's up against either. If he's assuming Grant and Hector, that may leave me some openings. I'll pull stunts neither of them would even think of.
Of course, the spy had to consider, if he knows it's me here looking for him…
Finishing with adding his notes for the day, Matthew got up and considered how best to get his hands on some official looking paper and ink. Time to forge some orders.
The orders had passed muster, possibly due to the fact that Matthew had so many wonderful examples of Grant's handwriting to study, and the local unit was sending three men to Tarmung to receive further orders from the wyvern rider Bronson there. Who was, quite conveniently, one of the contacts Matthew was able to use to get messages to Dame Vaida.
Naturally, James had quickly volunteered for the mission. Now all that was left was for Matthew to get there ahead of him to brief Bronson on what orders he needed the man to give them. Having access to some of Grant's resources is making this job a lot easier, that's for sure.
So Matthew had left town in the middle of the night to get a head start on them. The fact that nobody would think it amiss for a bounty hunter to randomly check out of the inn he was staying at that hour made him really appreciate his current disguise. Why didn't I think of this one sooner? I'm expected to be eccentric and keep strange hours. I'm supposed to ask people questions. I can slip a man some gold in broad daylight for information and nobody so much as blinks about it.
The disguise did come with it's downsides though. Aside from the physical alterations like cutting his hair down to nearly shaved bald levels and wearing some boots with inserts that made him about two inches taller then normal(as well as concealing a small knife in the heel of each one. Those things were worth every last coin he paid for them), he had to make some sacrifices to maintain the deception. Such as engaging in more strenuous and dangerous work then the commerce he'd been doing as Norris. And fending off attempts to recruit or press him into one army or the other. Thankfully there had only been one of the latter attempts, and they had relented when he pulled his sword and told them at least two of them would die first. Which he was quite glad for, as it would have been more then two and he'd really rather not kill anyone on the Prince's side if he could help it.
He stopped at that thought and mentally corrected, okay, almost anyone.
It was roughly two and a half days as the soldier marched to Tarmung, so not only did Matthew have to leave earlier, but make sure that he covered as much or more ground then they did. And do it without ever letting them catch up and see him. James might be feeling like he had gotten a sudden run of good luck right now, but if he spotted Matthew heading the same way it would doubtlessly stretch right past coincidence and into conspiracy for all but the most trusting souls.
As he made good time down the road, he heard a rustling sound up ahead. Stopping and putting his hand on his weapon, Matthew took a few more cautious steps forward to try and see what might have made that noise in the dark.
Moments later he heard it again, and this time spotted the form of a large bird launching itself out of a tree. That's normally a daytime bird. Something spooked it awake.
Slowly he drew his blade and approached the tree. Might have just been a wildcat or another bird. But it might not have been. As he got closer, he also scanned the entire nearby area for where any human shaped forms might have been concealed. He'd used the old throw a rock to startle a bird to distract someone trick more then once himself, so if that's what was going on he wasn't about to fall for it.
But once he got as close to the tree as he dared, he still couldn't see anything amiss. Sheathing his blade after a few moments, he shrugged and resumed his pace down the road. I guess sometimes it really is just a bird.
As a pair of golden eyes watched the man continue down the path, the person those eyes belonged to slowly and quietly let out the breath they had been holding. The morph had been following the trail of a bounty hunter who had been asking too many questions. Imagine it's surprise when that very same bounty hunter suddenly went back down the road toward the town it had most recently trailed the man from.
Strike now, or wait and see what he's up to? That was the question. Making a quick decision, the morph waited awhile longer to let the bounty hunter get some more distance before peeling itself up off the ground and slowly following, while thanking it's lucky stars the man hadn't noticed where it was hiding thanks to the mottled green cloak that blended so perfectly with the vegetation in the darkness. Worth every last coin I paid for it…
He arrived in Tarmung fairly late in the afternoon, but didn't wait even long enough to get himself a much belated lunch before hunting down rider Bronson to put his plot in motion.
Fortunately, the man was rarely hard to find. Not because he was particularly large or imposing, or even loud and flashy. In fact, Bronson was slim, usually quiet and a perfect gentleman(by Bernese standards at least). What made him easy to spot was his tendency to perch both himself and his wyvern on top of one of the larger buildings in town so he could keep a good eye on the place he was charged with protecting.
Noting the large shape of a wyvern sitting atop the town's church, the spy made his way over and waved to catch the attention of the man standing next to the beast.
Seeing the wave, Bronson looked down and recognized the man hailing him. Then in an impressive display of athleticism simply jumped down from the second story roof of the church, landing in an easy crouch, and walked over to the bounty hunter, "Maxim. You're back sooner then I expected, I assume you have a collection to put in?"
'Collection to put in' was the arranged code meaning 'message to send to Vaida', but Matthew couldn't quite say yes at the moment. We don't really have a code for 'I need you're help first' so let's make something up and hope he's quick enough to figure it out. Shaking his head, he tried to get his meaning across without seeming too obvious, "It's not an official bounty, but I've got something I think I can talk you into paying for. It's fairly time sensitive though, so the sooner we can negotiate a price the better."
Bronson eyed him wearily for a moment, before nodding, "I'll trust that you know better then to waste my time, so give me just a moment." Looking up, he whistled to get the attention of his mount and snapped out a command, "Ezekiel! Single patrol!"
Calling out his understanding of the order, the wyvern launched itself off the roof and began to do some slow laps of the town from the air.
Matthew watched the beast go and just shook his head, "Considering that the Prince has nearly twice as many of you wyvern riders as the king does, I'm not sure how you haven't won yet."
Bronson waved off the compliment, "We're good, but don't discount the foot. The king has a much larger mage corps as well. They can change the course of a battle just as quickly as we can. Regardless, you have an item to discuss? In private I assume?"
"Yeah, that would be best." Matthew nodded.
Bronson led the way to a guard house, where he asked the man on duty inside to give them some space and turned to his guest once they were alone, "Well, Maxim? Is this actually about a bounty or something else?"
Matthew chuckled, "I've got a report almost ready but I'll need some help to finish it. Is that man Clarence still with you? The one I asked you to keep an eye on?"
The rider nodded, "His unit's on road patrol right now. My second is in charge of the unit, so he's being monitored."
"Good enough. There's a trio of soldiers coming in, they should be here tomorrow, and I need one of them, James by name, to be put in contact with Clarence. It'll be easy to arrange as their orders are to report to you for more orders."
"I…suppose I can come with something for them to do. I don't really need any more men here at the moment though." Bronson gave the bounty hunter a measuring look before asking, "Who did these orders come from?"
The man wasn't aware of Matthew's real identity, just that he was a bounty hunter investigating something for Dame Vaida. Matthew didn't really want to clue him in too much, but figured he could pull something a bit in the middle, "They came from me. And yes, my taking this liberty will be included in my report to Dame Vaida. You can feel free to send your own report on it as well if you wish."
The simple matter-of-factness that Matthew delivered that with clearly caught Bronson by surprise. Suddenly the rider was measuring him up much more carefully and quietly asked, "Just who are you, really?"
Keeping his expression and voice completely level, Matthew responded with the line he hoped would best work on a soldier like the rider, "I'm sorry Rider, but you aren't cleared to know that."
"I...see. Can you at least tell me why those two men are so important?"
Matthew shook his head, "For your own safety as well as that of everyone under your command, no. Just believe me when I say the information gained from this is of vital importance."
The rider did not look comfortable, but eventually nodded his assent, "Then what exactly do you need?"
So he did go back to Tarmung. Just as I thought. Watching the city for a moment, the morph decided to step out of the woods and boldly as you please walk up to the guard at the gate.
The guard quickly hailed it, "Hold, traveler. I'll need your name and business before I let you in."
The morph shook its head, "I'm not actually heading in. I just wanted to know if the bounty hunter Maxim came through here?"
The guard frowned, "Maybe, maybe not. Who's asking?"
"I'm his partner." The morph easily lied, "Well, he's supposed to be here so either he already is or he will be soon. Can you tell him that I'll meet him at the northern checkpoint? I've got a lead, and I don't think it'll keep if I wait for him." Pulling a small pouch of coins out of its pocket, the morph tossed the pouch over its shoulder towards the guard as it turned to leave, "For your trouble."
Scrambling to catch the gold, the guard quickly opened the bag to see the contents then looked back up at the retreating form of the morph, "Hold on, I didn't get your…name." Sighing, the guard shrugged and made a note to pass along the message as he pocketed the money, "Yeesh, bounty hunters. No patience."
Bronson hadn't liked it, but he had made up some orders to get a wider patrol going around the town, explaining the need for a few extra soldiers. The ones already familiar with the area got assigned to the long patrol, while the new guys, as well as the ones who just got back in, were on city guard. It was a neat setup, cleanly putting the morphs James and Clarence in the same general area without being obvious about it.
Naturally it didn't take James long to seek out the man who looked like him. Nor was it hard for Matthew to quietly trail him and listen in to their conversation.
"So that's it," James finished explaining his situation to Clarence, "I've got no idea where I'm from or who I am besides my name and rank. I heard about a man here who looked enough like me to be mistaken for me and sort of hoped we were related or something."
Clarence didn't respond immediately. Matthew figured he was weighing his options, and was very interested to find out what he'd tell the man.
"I..." eventually Clarence started to speak and Matthew focused intently on what he was saying, "...can't say that I recognize you. The resemblance is impressive but I've never met you before. Sorry."
The inflections in his voice told Matthew that Clarence knew he was lying. The question is why? Orders? Or out of kindness? That...could mean a lot, depending on the answer.
"Really?" James sighed, "I see. Sorry to bother you then. I was just hoping..."
"Don't blame yourself for hoping." Clarence quickly added, "I'm sure you'll find out where you belong someday. Just don't give up hope."
Reassuring him? Matthew considered that for a moment. It sounds like he just can't bring himself to tell the guy that he's not human. Kindness. What is going ON with these morphs?
He stayed a bit longer, but the morphs didn't speak of anything else that seemed important. As he left, Matthew considered how best to interpret this new information. Not as telling as I was hoping, but Grant will want to know about this either way. This entire situation doesn't make sense. Why are they being made? What's the purpose for sending them out without clear goals like this? I just don't get it.
"Maxim. Bounty hunter." Matthew declared his name and purpose to the guard on his way out of town.
"Alright, you're good. Be careful on the road." The guard nodded routinely, then suddenly blinked and spoke up again, "Wait, Maxim? Hold on a moment sir, someone left a message here for you."
Matthew slowly turned to look at the guard, trying very hard not to betray the tension that simple statement made him feel, "Alright?" A message? Who would leave a message for me here at the gate?
The guard ducked back into the gatehouse for just a moment before coming back out with a small piece of paper, "It says here that your partner went ahead to the northern checkpoint and will meet you there."
My WHAT? Matthew clamped down on his reaction to that, and just nodded at the guard, "Alright. Did you get a name?"
The guard raised an eyebrow, "You don't know your own partner's name?"
Matthew shook his head and easily lied, "There's two people I work with sometimes, if a mark is too dangerous for any one of us alone. I'd like to know which one I'm working with this time before I get there."
It was an entirely reasonable explanation, so the guard nodded, "Ah, alright. And..." he looked over the note again and shook his head, "sorry, no mention of a name."
"Does it say whether it was a man or a woman? Any description at all?" Maybe I can at least get something out of this.
"Nothing, no."
"Great." Mathew tried one last shot, "Is the guard who took the note on duty?"
The guard shook his head again, "He left on the new long patrol just this morning."
The irony was almost enough to make Matthew laugh. Seeing nothing else he could do at the moment, he thanked the guard for the message and began heading for the northern checkpoint. So this is obviously a trap. The question is...who's springing it and can I turn it to my advantage?
Matthew was by no means making good time towards the checkpoint. The ambush could come from any point along the way, so he kept an easy pace going and left one hand on or near his sword's hilt at all times. If there was one advantage he had in this, it's that whoever was setting this for him likely didn't know exactly what they were setting a trap for. A clever enough fox can escape from the bear trap.
Of course this was one fox who was practically loaded for bear. A silver sword, a long fighting knife on his belt, a small brace of throwing knives now worn openly strapped around his thigh, and the two hidden blades in the heels of his boots. And of course the weighted sap that no self respecting bounty hunter would be caught without.
If he'd hurried, he could easily have reached the checkpoint by nightfall. But that would leave him tired from a long day of fast movement, putting him at a clear disadvantage against the ambush. It would have also left him much less likely to notice anything that might have jumped him along the way. So it was that nightfall came...and he was only a little more then halfway there.
Time to find a place to sleep. After searching through the area carefully to make sure he was alone, Matthew found a tree a bit away from the path with sturdy enough branches to hold him, and climbed on up. Taking the rope out of his pack, he whipped up a makeshift hammock to give him a bit more support then just trying to sleep on a tree branch. It was adapted from an old trick some hunters used, lashing themselves to the tree or the branch so they couldn't fall in the night. It would have been more secure then the really bad hammock he made, but Matthew wanted to be able to bolt right out of the tree without having to untie himself first. Just in case.
After tying his pack to a different tree, the spy settled in to lightly nap through the night.
He didn't pass my position, so he either didn't come or is taking it slow. Either way it meant that the morph had to backtrack towards the town, keeping an eye out for its quarry along the way.
A careful pace would have put him roughly in this area. Which is also an ideal place to bed down. As the morph carefully checked through a denser clump of trees, it began to suspect that its mark was less of a bounty hunter being used to investigate a matter, and more of a professional spy playing bounty hunter as a cover. Aside from asking enough of the right questions to get its master's attention, the man had not been the easiest person to keep tabs on and responded to some things in the same way that the morph itself would have responded. And the morph knew that it was a professional. Bounty hunter is a great cover, I have to admit. Entirely too obvious, which is why it works.
Catching sight of something just barely visible dangling from a tree, the morph froze in place and focused until it could make out the shape. It was pack, only half attached to the branch it was on. Studying it longer, the morph could guess that the straps had come loose in the night, it would have been impossible to see from this angle if it was still fully secured. Gotcha.
Matthew hadn't exactly been getting much sleep that night. Even the slightest noises were waking him out of the catnapping state he slipped into. A night bird called. The wind made some leaves move. Crickets were too loud. Everything.
So he was mostly awake when a human shaped form slowly moved into view. He snapped fully to alertness, and froze in place. But the form wasn't looking at him. It was focusing on his pack, and slowly approaching to get a better look.
He resisted the urge to smile. Gotcha.
Not daring to shift just yet, the spy waited until the figure got a little closer. Just two or three more steps. Then it would be in range, and he would have to strike before it noticed him.
The figure moved closer. One step. Two steps...three steps.
Exploding into action, Matthew kicked off of the tree trunk to launch himself out of the hammock and down at the figure below. Wordlessly he descended, managing to twist enough on the way down to deliver a hard kick to the figure on the way down, rolling backwards as soon as he fully hit the ground and pulling his long knife as he came up, ready to fight.
The morph heard the movement but not with enough time to evade the heavy kick that sent it sprawling into the brush. Definitely not just a bounty hunter.
Springing back up, it rolled back as it did so, pulling a pair of short blades to defend itself with. With the first bit of fear it felt since starting this mission, the morph noted that Maxim had moved back from the attack as well, and was crouched into a very familiar looking fighting stance. My usual tricks aren't going to work here.
Assassin, huh? Matthew took note of the stance and the weapons pulled by his opponent and could only come to one conclusion. He wasn't overly surprised, but still didn't like it. Sure he had gotten the first blow it, but it wasn't a decisive one and nobody pulled two weapons at once in a real fight unless they knew how to use them. At first he thought for a terrifying moment that it might have been Jaffar, but aside from the fact that he wouldn't have made such an amateur mistake as falling for the decoy pack trick, the person before him was considerable smaller and more slender then the Angel of Death.
Carefully observing the other assassin, Matthew called out to try and put his attacker off of their game, "Don't suppose you'd mind telling me who you're working for before I kill you?"
The figure didn't respond, but he hadn't really been expecting them to. For now he just kept his guard up and waited, baiting the attack and gambling on keeping up his track record of reacting faster then anyone he'd fought against before.
"Don't suppose you'd care to tell me who you're working for before I kill you?"
The morph blinked. Not just at the banter, but...that voice. It sounds so...familiar somehow.
Sizing its target up, the morph did not care for what it saw. He's waiting for me because he knows I'm at a disadvantage. I have to kill him to win, he only has to survive. If I don't attack he'll just run away.
Not seeing another option, it moved in.
The assassin began to move towards him and Matthew carefully watched the movements. Two ways to attack with two weapons. Either a striking blade and a parrying blade, or both striking blades. So which are you? The stance, the grip, how they approached, these all gave him clues to the answer to that question before he would have to learn it the hard way.
He had one more way to get a clue as well. Letting the assassin get just a touch closer, Matthew quickly pulled a throwing knife with his free hand and hurled it at his attacker.
Quickly the enemy pulled one of their knives down and slashed it out of the air.
One and one then. Matthew wasn't too pleased to see that. Thanks to Jaffar and Dart, he had a bit more familiarity with the full on attacking style and knew how to counter it better. Leila had known a bit about one and one though, so he quickly tried to remember what she had taught him so very long ago. Parry and counter from the striking blade's side. Don't forget to watch the parrying blade, ignore it too long and they will stab you with it. Watch for stance switches, if they're good they can change which blade is which.
Suppose I should test that one. Quickly changing strategies, Matthew drew another throwing knife and dashed forward, hurling it as he went.
Again the assassin's left hand blade parried the thrown weapon, but Matthew came in right behind, attacking from the side of the blade that wasn't used to parry. His initial slash was fast, quick enough to score a small slice along the arm, but the enemy retreated a couple of steps and easily shifted their stance, parrying Matthew's second and third slashes with the right hand blade.
Having gotten his answer, Matthew threw his momentum to the side and rolled away from the assassin, neatly dodging their counterattack.
As the morph's blade touched only air, it realized what had just happened and mentally swore. He was TESTING me! That son of a whore was just provoking me to see my style! I'm...completely outclassed here.
It wanted to run. To just abandon the mission and bolt. But it didn't think it would get a second chance to fight this Maxim on even a remotely even footing. Next time, before the morph could ambush him again, he would hunt it down first. The fight would be in a place of his choosing. And he would win.
But the Creator had made it very clear that there would be no future if this mission was failed. It had to stay and fight this out.
Desperate to win, the morph launched itself at the fake bounty hunter, both blades aiming to strike in an attempt to catch him off guard by switching styles entirely.
But this wasn't the morph's style. The blades didn't swing in at the same time, giving Maxim time to block the first one with his blade. The shock of the impact rattled the morph, causing the second blade to lose some momentum. It hit, scoring near the shoulder of his free arm, but the blow was weak. Edge instead of point, and he had his cloak to cushion the impact.
Unfortunately for the morph, the slice did not seem to steal any of Maxim's strength. And he was already both larger and stronger. With incredible speed and surprising force, he grabbed her by one arm and spun, using her own forward momentum to spin her and slam her back into a tree.
In a flash his knife was at her throat...and he stopped, eyes suddenly gone wide.
The assassin had made another amateur mistake, attacking like that when they should have waited. But his excitement at getting a clear chance to end this so quickly was short lived. For as he slammed the enemy up against a tree, her hood was shaken loose, and even in the dark he could clearly see her face.
He knew that face. He had seen it daily for years. He saw it even still in his dreams and nightmares. The hair was black instead of red, the eyes gold rather then brown, and the skin was entirely too pale. But the features were perfect. There was no mistaking it.
It was her.
No... Matthew fought the feelings welling up inside of him. NO! Not her, it's not her! Just a morph, a puppet with her face!
But for all his protests, his body wouldn't move. He couldn't strike her again. He couldn't harm someone with that face.
He could not kill the thing that looked like Leila.
His arm went slack, and the knife dropped from his hand...
She had no idea what was going on. One moment she thought she was seconds from death, the next he went slackjawed and dropped his weapon.
But something about his strange action stirred a feeling inside of her. His face? Why does that look familiar? ...nevermind that, this is my chance!
Shaking it off, she quickly took action. Dropping down and pulling out of his weakened grip, the morph swept her legs out, knocking Matthew to the ground.
Matthew hit the ground hard. Instinctively he tried to spring up and move away, but the morph was faster and stayed on him, quickly tripping him again and straddling him before he could try to roll away again.
Despite the situation, he almost laughed. She always was better at ground work then me.
He wanted to be angry. Outraged that the enemy would dare use her face. But he couldn't muster the energy. All he felt was numb. Beaten. The enemy knew who he was and sent the one thing that Matthew could never beat. He could try to escape, but what was the point? She'd find him again. And he wouldn't be any more able to kill her later then he was now. Now that he could see her, he couldn't even bring himself to strike at all. How do you win without attacking? I don't know. I'm not Guy.
The morph who looked like Leila dropped one of her knives so she could use the other hand to pin his right arm and raised her other knife high. Here it comes. Sorry Lord Hector, this was all I could do. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the final blow descending. As he waited for the strike, all he could think was, Leila's going to kill me for letting some copy of her finish me off.
She held the knife poised high, ready to plunge down into the chest of her target. One blow would finish it, her mission would be complete. Matthew was helpless, he wasn't even trying to fight back.
So why was she hesitating?
Wait...Matthew? Why had that name come into her mind? His name is Maxim, isn't it?
Looking down into the face of the man she was told to kill...she couldn't swing her weapon. She knew that she had never met this man before, but at the same time...there was something so familiar. His voice. His face. She...she had looked down into that face before. Just like this, sitting straddled across him while half pinning him to the ground. Only then...
She almost blushed. The thoughts, the feelings, something unbidden was rising inside of her. She couldn't hurt him. She felt like stabbing herself in sheer guilt from even trying to.
Slowly lowering her weapon, the morph numbly waged an inner battle between her duty and her feelings. It wasn't a very long battle, her orders were doomed from the start.
Quietly she spoke, needing answers and hoping he could help provide them, "Ma...Matthew? Is that your name?"
The killing blow he was waiting for never came. Was she toying with him? It was bad enough that he could feel her. That with his eyes closed it was all too easy to remember things he had been trying so hard not to think of ever since the dread isle. Just get it over with already.
But she didn't strike. Instead she did the last thing he ever wanted her to do. She said his name, "Ma...Matthew? Is that your name?"
The voice was perfect. She even sounded just like Leila. It was too much for him.
Anger, depression, loss and longing all mixed within him, becoming something he couldn't quite describe. Frustrated he half snapped at the morph sitting atop him, "You win, alright? You and your master both. I can't fight you. I just...can't."
All was quiet for a moment, until he heard the sound of something being dropped. He opened his eyes to see that she had let go of her weapon. Unable to stop himself, he looked up into her face.
Tears were filling her eyes as she stared down at him, and in a sobbing whisper replied, "Then we have a problem. Since...I can't fight you either."
She let her weapon go. She couldn't put a finger on what or why, but the fact was undeniable. She was in love with the man she was told to kill, and she couldn't explain how. It was something that came from a deeper part of herself then she had known existed. Memories that she had never lived through. She had existed for less then a month at this point, the Creator had told her that she was created for the express purpose of killing this man.
So why? Did he give her these memories? Did he make her love her target?
Shaking her head, she reluctantly moved off of his lap and slumped up against a tree. Looking at him slowly sitting up as well, she asked again, "You never answered my question. Are you Maxim? Or Matthew? I need to know. Please."
He looked at her. Eyes roiling with emotion, some of it clearly hatred and disgust. It hurt her so much to be looked at like that. After a moment he spoke again, "You don't already know?"
"No!" She protested, "I was told to kill a bounty hunter named Maxim. That you...he was asking too many questions. But when I saw your face I remembered a name. Matthew. I've never heard it before but I know it and I don't know why and I'm confused and I'm supposed to kill you but I can't because I think I love you and..." she started nervously laughing, "and I'm babbling."
He had no idea what to feel. It wasn't her, just a morph made in her image. But she didn't only look the part, she sounded just like Leila. She talked like Leila. She had her mannerisms, the way she slumped against the tree, the way she babbled on then called herself on it. It was just like her.
And she just said that she loved him.
Part of him wanted to close his eyes again. Pretend it was really her. Pull her into his arms, kiss her and try to sooth that gaping wound in his heart. Part of him wanted to get up and run away, get as far away from this terrible and perfect mimicry of his love as he could.
All of him wanted to violently and messily slaughter the person who made her.
"Matthew." He finally forced himself to answer, "My name is Matthew."
"Matthew." She repeated his name and it felt like someone coating a dagger with elixir before twisting it in his heart. It was the sweetest sound he could ever hear and it made him want to scream in a primal anguish.
He didn't say anything though. He didn't know what would come out if he opened his mouth again.
"You know, don't you?" She seemed more then happy to fill the silence for him, "why I feel like this? How I know you? Please, tell me. I need to know."
What do I say? How can I tell a woman that she was made in the image of my dead lover probably for the sole purpose of tormenting me? Taking a deep breath, he tried to find his voice, to tell her something at least. "You...are a morph. Do you know that much? And...what's your name? I need a different name to think of you by."
She nodded, "Yeah, I do. And...the Creator called me Lilac."
"Lilac." He said her name, almost as if experimenting with it. She couldn't help but smile as he did. Somehow it sounded a thousand times more lovely when it came from him.
"You..." he tried to continue and stopped, sighing. A few more times he opened his mouth to start, then closed it again. She didn't rush him. She needed to know, but she could tell he was trying to think of how to say it.
"You were made," Matthew finally managed to go explain, "in the image of the woman I love. Who died, killed by someone who was working for the man who made morphs."
"That would explain why you recognized me." Lilac nodded, but knew that still didn't answer her question, "but it doesn't explain why I know you."
"I can't explain that one." Matthew shook his head, "I know how you have her looks. Her voice. But...why you talk like her. Why you move and act like her. Why you feel the way she would feel. I don't know that." His voice took on a hard edge, "This creator of yours, all I can think of is that he made you like this on purpose. But how he would know what she would feel...I can't even begin to guess."
"It's something at least," Lilac found herself trying to comfort him, "somehow he gave me more then just her image. We just don't know the how." She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that. Frankly she wasn't either. But the only person who would know how was the Creator, so there wasn't any use dwelling on it.
Changing the subject slightly, she asked one question she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to, but had to ask anyway, "What was her name?"
"Leila," Matthew answered after a long moment, "her name was Leila."
She nodded. When he said that name...it stirred feelings as well. She wouldn't mind being called by that name, it felt like it belonged to her just as much as Lilac did. She had to know more. Though she could see that it would hurt him to tell her, she had to ask him. I have to know who I am.
"Tell me about her?"
Such a simple request, but it twisted that knife a few more notches. "No..." Matthew protested immediately, looking at anything but her, "please don't ask me that. You have no idea how much this hurts already. I don't want to talk about her, especially not to you."
"You aren't the only one hurting here." Lilac responded, sounding exactly like Leila when she was irritated, "unless you think that seeing the person I love looking at me like I'm some kind of demon that he doesn't know whether to kiss or stab feels like rainbows and fuzzy bunnies."
He couldn't help himself. He laughed, "Dammit you even have her sense of humor."
"Please Matthew, I have to know who I am."
"You're not..." he started, but she cut him off.
"And don't even try to say that I'm not her! Parts of me are, you keep saying it yourself." He still wasn't looking at her, but her voice sounded desperate. He could almost imagine the tears in her eyes. "I need to know how much. I need to know who she was, so I can figure out who I am."
He couldn't really argue that one. She had a right to know. A right? Matthew tried to sort out his thoughts and feelings, I'm thinking about her like she's a person. But...she's not. She's just a puppet. Right?
Forcing himself to look back at her, he saw her face. She was looking at him, waiting for him to speak, searching for something in his eyes. It wasn't the face of a puppet. Her face was expressive, alive. Not the face of one of the near mindless fighting morphs Nergal threw at them by the horde. She isn't Leila. But...she's still real.
"Alright." Matthew finally had to agree, and he tried so hard not to smile at seeing her face brighten. "But I still have a job to do. I'll tell you about Leila. But you have to tell me everything about your creator. Including where to find him, if you know."
Her face clouded for a moment. He could see her struggling with that demand, loyalty warring with curiosity. But eventually she nodded, "You rip your heart out, I betray my Creator. Sounds like a fair trade."
Matthew snickered, "Dammit woman, stop being funny."
As he started to talk, Lilac listened intently, hanging on every word. Much of what he told her, she both remembered and didn't at the same time. The events weren't real to her, she never went to Ostia, she didn't save Marquis Caelin. But the feelings were. As Matthew described Ostia it felt like home. As he spoke of Leila rescuing the Marquis she was relieved that he was safe. When he mentioned Lord Uther's death she wanted to cry.
She asked so many questions, until the sun rose and they were still talking. It was a lot to take in, but slowly it answered her biggest question. I'm not Leila. But I want the same things she wanted.
"Thank you." She smiled at Matthew, hoping he felt more at ease around her now.
"So," he asked, "did that help you decide who you are?"
"Yeah," she nodded, and slid over so she was sitting next to him. He flinched a bit as she got closer, but she couldn't blame him too much. Maybe...it'll get easier with time? "I'm Lilac, not Leila. But...I still have a lot in common with her. And..." She took the chance and slowly took Matthew's hand in hers, "I don't want to try and be her. Or take over her life. But the parts of me, the feelings that came from her, are still mine. And I don't want to just ignore them."
He squeezed her hand, and for a moment she felt hopeful. But then he pulled his hand away from her, "I...can't. I believe you, that what you feel about me is real for you. But I love Leila. Not you."
"Then get to know me." Lilac wasn't giving up that easily. "Don't think of me as a copy of her, pretend I'm...I dunno, her long lost twin sister that she never told you about."
Matthew laughed, "I think that would make it more awkward."
"Really?" she grinned, "I thought all guys had that fantasy at some point."
He chuckled again, "It wouldn't be fair to you either. If you went back to Ostia I'm not the only person who you'd make uncomfortable, maybe to the point of flat out never trusting you. That's if someone didn't decide that you were really an enemy and just using Leila's appearance to subvert me. You wouldn't be safe there."
"Will someone like me really be safe anywhere?" She countered, unwilling to let it go yet, "I don't exactly have any skills that don't involve putting myself in danger. And I think we could convince Lord Hector and the other important people after awhile. Or we could just go somewhere else. If you asked to be released, I don't think anyone would argue that you've earned it."
"It's not just that, either." Matthew wasn't letting his position go either, "I couldn't be fair to you. Even if I give you what you want, I won't see you. Just her. You deserve better then that."
"For now." Lilac pressed the point, "In time you'd see me, especially as I learn more about who I am and become less of Leila and more myself. Maybe there isn't much of me there now, but I've only been alive for a month."
"A month?" Matthew looked half stunned, then tried to recover with a joke, "Well that settles it. There's laws against that sort of thing."
Lilac laughed, "I didn't know you cared so much about the law."
With a groan, he slumped his head down in defeat, "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"Comes with being female." Even as she joked, she had to admit to herself that she wasn't entirely sure of everything she said. Can it really work? I don't know, but...I want to try.
It was morning and Matthew hadn't slept all night. He was exhausted, emotionally drained and considerably more vulnerable then he wanted her to realize. When she had taken his hand, he almost pulled her into his lap. He wanted her so very badly. Except it wasn't her he really wanted. It was a woman who looked just like her.
But Lilac was so much like her in all the right ways. He knew it was a bad idea to talk about Leila, but he hadn't been able to refuse. It just opened up all those old memories. All the reasons he loved her. So many of the qualities that made him fall in love were right here in front of him again. It was like something out of a twisted fairy tale, a very bizarre second chance at a lost love.
Which was exactly why he had to refuse her. As the night had gone on, he started to like this woman. Even if it was because of her resemblance to Leila, he liked her too much to use her like a replacement.
But she had an answer for that. Given time, would it really be Leila he saw when he looked at her? Or was that part of what scared him, the idea that he could ever come to love someone else?
Looking to the sky, Matthew thought about the woman he had loved. Leila. What would you want me to do?
He knew her well enough that when he honestly thought about it, it didn't take him long to realize the answer. First, finish the mission. Then...she'd want someone to make sure Lilac was taken care of. It's not her fault she was made like that. And... he had to come face to face with the one fact he had been avoiding since Valor. She would want me to move on and try to be happy.
Perhaps the exhaustion was the only thing that let him make the decision he came to, but he made it all the same. "I get the feeling that I won't win any more arguments with you then I ever did with her."
"Probably less if I have anything to say about it," Lilac quipped and smiled.
"Alright, against my better judgment, I'll give you a chance. I can't just leave you on your own without any friends or contacts, so I'd need to stick with you for a bit anyway. But..."
Lilac took his hand again, and this time he didn't pull it away, "If it doesn't stop being too painful for you, or if you decide you don't like the person I become, then I'll go."
"That isn't what I was going to say, but thanks." Matthew had to smile. He was already seeing some differences. Leila liked to play coy, while Lilac was much more expressive and forward. "What I was going to say, was that the mission still comes first. I need to know everything you know about your creator. Does he have a name? Is he a human or a morph? Why is he making all these morphs and sending them out to do mundane things? Where is he making them at?"
Lilac nodded, "Right. He...well, I don't know him as anything other then the Creator. If he has a name, he didn't give it to me. I...think he is a morph. He has golden eyes at least, and I know what our physical traits are. I don't know why he made anyone other then me, the only mission I was told about was my own. And...I was made and sent out from a place called Fallen Giant Pass. I don't know if he's still there, though."
Matthew took all that in and tried to give it some thought. But his thoughts kept turning back to her, "You don't have a problem telling me all of that? You do know I might kill him, right? You aren't magically loyal to him or anything like that?"
She shook her head, "I...feel a bit awkward betraying the man who gave me life, but other then that, no. And I'm more then a little upset with him for making me like this then telling me to kill you or be terminated if I fail. But...he is still the person who created me, so if you can settle things with something besides killing him I'd feel a lot better." Then she shrugged, "But if it comes down to you or him, do what you have to."
The mere thought that this creator had threatened to destroy Lilac if she didn't kill him only made Matthew want to messily end him more. But he clamped that down and nodded, "If he has something to say, I'll listen. I need answers from him anyway. But if he turns out to be the second coming of Nergal, then I'm taking him down."
"I hope you aren't planning on going anywhere today though." Lilac moved in closer and leaned up against his side, pulling her large cloak over the both of them, "We were up all night, you need to get some rest."
He wanted to hold her tightly and pull away all at once. Instead he settled for only putting one arm around her and nodding, "Yeah."
As he leaned back and felt her warmth beside him, Matthew did something he very rarely found cause to do. He prayed. St. Elimine in heaven, please let her be innocent and not some kind of horrible trap. I don't know if morphs are people to you but...please look after her if something happens to me. And tell Leila I may be longer then I thought I would be.
Elimine didn't answer of course. He imagined she rarely if ever did. But still, for once, he felt better for the asking.
Author's note: So here is what I think may be my longest chapter yet and it's the second of a two parter. I've realized a few things with this chapter though. Mainly that Karel is possibly the third most important character in the story, driving a large part of the development for both Guy(planned) and Matthew(unplanned). Secondly that the story is occassionally going to go where it feels like going regardless of what my original intent may have been. Whether that's for good or ill...well, I guess time will tell, hmm? Thirdly that I apparently find writing much easier when I'm not at home on my own computer, but using a laptop in some public place. Which would explain why this one is up early!
Also, if any of you saw this coming and figured out who the morph was before I started using "she" instead of "it" then give yourself a cookie and get the hell out of my head.