La Dolce Vita
By Seniya
E is for Empathy
Part 3
"Empathy is the love fire of sweet remembrance and shared understanding." John Eaton
In the quiet recess of the sunset, the fleeting sun's rays held the door open for the entrance of the twilight, while trouble brewed.
You couldn't see this trouble – couldn't even smell it as it heated up over the flames of time. The rank steam evaporated and climbed steadily upwards, heating the evening breeze, becoming so unbearable that even the night balked.
Eric wasn't one to ask for help. A stubborn kind of boy, and more than a little bit of a glory hog, he preferred to suffer through the difficulty of every puzzle all by himself, if only to savour the inevitable victory – again by himself.
However, this time – with a hot-headed half dragon creature loose in Heatherfield (with an infamously short fuse), he supposed he could live with a half-credit.
And that was why Eric had run to the Silver Dragon, a full two hours after closing time: to ask for help.
He had hoped Hay Lin would have opened the door, she was much kinder, and had a more than obvious crush on him – but fate would not be kind tonight and it was the Lin matriarch who answered his prolonged knocking.
"Closed!" She snapped, once her narrowed eyes saw who had darkened her door.
"Y-Yan Lin ... Jesus that's my foot!" He had pushed the same time that she had shoved and the end result, just as all laws of motion conclude, the greater force won out – and poor Eric was trapped with his good shoe in between two planks of wood and a very mean old lady.
She shoved a good two more times before finally allowing him inside.
Eric, whimpering with both injured pride and toes, stumbled into the sticky heat of the Silver Dragon's main dining room, mentally cursing Yan Lin to damnation as he hobbled.
"You're an evil old lady, d'you know that?" An evil old witch who never bothered to use the air conditioning after six o'clock – a fact that caused a tsunami of heat to wash over Eric as he struggled to recover among the linoleum floors and wrought iron tables.
"Yet, you're always here." Through the dim light from the tacky paper lanterns tacked onto the ceilings and walls, he could see every harsh line on the old woman's face. Her skin seemed parchment thin, although none the weaker for it.
"I need your help." Eric bit out, the words sounded nasty on his tongue, so much so that he attempted to absorb some of the Lysol that obnoxiously floated through the heavy air to melt the taste away.
"Eric, I am a very busy woman ..."
"I know rolling dumplings must take up an immense amount of your time ..." The slap came before he could react, and suddenly he had ringing ears as well as throbbing toes to contend with "...look it's important."
Yan Lin snorted, "What?" She raised her voice to a nasal girlish squeal, "Kappas?"
Now that was a low blow. It took Eric a while to regain his composure and even then he thought about storming outside. She knew that his failure to find any evidence of Kappa habitation in Heatherfield was a sensitive topic!
"I've found a half-dragon fire breathing mad-woman."
He watched as she blinked. Once. Twice.
"Eric, go home."
"I'm serious! You know about the fire at the school yesterday?" And then he proceeded to rattle off the entire long winded explanation that involved his broken compass, broken pride and now (potentially) broken foot.
Yan Lin frowned, but something in the boy's story had clicked. She briefly remembered Hay Lin and her talkative water friend chattering on about finding a fire guardian. It had been during the lunch time grind ... she couldn't remember specifics.
And the girls had been gone for more than half an hour – would be gone for another hour still.
Shit.
The things she did for the good of the universe. "All right, Eric. Where is the fire-breather?"
Cedric wasn't human.
In his short life, he had used that statement as a defence, as a threat and as an opening line for battle.
So save your sympathy, because it wasn't as though he minded.
People, even Meridian people, expected things from humans – a link to Earth, perhaps goodness, empathy ... all those fragments of humanity that Cedric had never been taught to understand. He hadn't been born. He'd been made. A reality that stemmed from the desires of his master's own twisted fantasies.
He was half serpent, half man.
He had no memories, no desires and no fears. He only did as he was told.
He kept Meridian obedient. And he hadn't received a single complaint from his Master so far.
The soldiers of Meridian's Army were quite frankly the dregs of society. Bottom feeders, and psychopaths – Cedric had raided the old prisons to find officers during his first week as captain.
Now, it was lunch, which translated to a gruesome two hour fest that often ended up in bloody brawls in the castle's foyer.
The multitude of mile long tables that had once lined the entry hall had long been reduced to splinters and fire wood. There were no chairs or benches, and the tapestries on the walls were bloodied and torn.
The soldiers ate on the floor. They fought on the floor. They mated, shat and slept on that floor. Really, the floor was the centre of their community, not that the beasts saw in that way.
The castle's lone chef worked for Phobos, and was literally kept under lock and key to satisfy the King's fickle palate. As a result, the army kept themselves fed through raids on the villages and the nearby farms.
Today's lunch time feast consisted of fresh Hoogong meat – Hoogongs were the army's preferred method of transportation, which meant one thing, Cedric knew as he examined the bloody flesh.
The imbeciles had raided the stables for lunch.
"You foolsss!" He hissed, kicking the first soldier he came across squarely in the jaw. The burly man howled in pain but didn't dare react – had any other soldier struck him, he'd be dead but now, but not Cedric.
"I s-supposse that I'll be riding you into the village tonight!" He was in a foul mood. Who wouldn't be, after being told he would have to maintain a human form for Hades knew how long.
But he couldn't really feel anything but the mere edge of discontent, so great was his compulsion to obey.
"You foolssss do not think!" With a swipe of his might tail he caused one of the last tables to crumble. Some of the men edged away, while others stayed still wishing in that moment to appear invincible – because perhaps Cedric noticed.
He didn't.
The rant continued and more splinters and shattered rock fell in his wake ... and perhaps would have continued, had a particular intrusion not occurred at precisely that time.
A giant of a man, all muscles, sinew and a flash of bright orange hair rushed through the chaos to stand before the irate leader of the army. Many a man would tremble, but not Baldorn.
He'd travelled for hours to get to this fortress, and there was barely enough time to sit, stretch and speak before he'd be forced to leave again (lest someone recognise his absence). "My Lord."
The rough baritone was muted by the sound of unbridled rage, but not quelled all together. "Baldorn," Wide yellow eyes narrowed on the subject, "Good newssss I hope."
"The guardians of the veil. They are coming. They may be here ... even as I speak."
The words caused a myriad of reactions from the soldiers, from shock to confusion – but one was prominent, nearly tangible: excitement.
Cedric grinned, a gruesome sight as one can imagine, watching those thin reptilian lips curve upwards in a way too heinous to be human. Not as though he'd mind.
He wasn't human, after all.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
It had not been difficult to get rid of Eric. Yan Lin would be the first to tell anyone who wasn't lucid enough to notice – she was as old as ass. More than eight decades of knowledge, wisdom and wit was whittled into her being, even if it wasn't always obvious.
Not that it had been difficult to outsmart Eric, a quick tap to the brachial plexus (look it up) and he was out like the Red Sox.
The Cooks lived in a large, upper middle class type of house. It was new, less than 10 years old, but designed to look like something from the middle of the Victorian era. They were strange beings the Cooks, Yan Lin had always thought – a pretentious lot who flaunted their money and education with a self-righteous kind of zeal.
Still, if their youngest suddenly had some sort of value to her ... well, she had certainly learnt how to schmooze in those eighty plus years.
Yan Lin, a first for her, walked up the narrow walkway and knocked on the front door. The parents weren't home, the oldest boy was off at Brown or Howard or Yale or something ... so that meant ...
"Mrs Lin." Taranee didn't even have the tact to look surprised. "I guess that little monkey told."
"You'll learn never to tell him anything." Yan Lin watched her carefully, right age ... slightly higher energy level than normal. She was hiding it ... someone had taught her how to hide it. "Enough small talk. I suppose you may have noticed that you've been bursting into flame, well, let me ..."
"Combustion." She looked contrite.
"No." Yan Lin never liked to be interrupted. "You are, in fact ..."
"I know what I am." And then quite suddenly, the old woman found herself shocked.
"What are you?" She fought to regain her composure. It was strange to be standing there on the too neat porch in the middle of a perfectly manicured front lawn in the "nice" part of town talking about mythology.
The sprinklers from the neighbours hissed in the distance and there was the sound of footsteps pounding the sidewalk as someone went for their evening jog.
"Cut the crap Yan Lin. I know what you are too."
"Do you?" Her lips tightened though, and she was certain that those brown eyes noticed.
"Guardian of Air. Circa 1940. Yeah, I'm researched." Taranee folded her arms across her front and leaned against the doorway. She looked positively smug.
Yan Lin, to her credit, managed to feign nonchalance, "how can you possibly know?"
The girl shrugged, clicked her tongue but didn't open her mouth.
"Why won't you say how you came about this research?" She couldn't exactly let this bit of information go.
"Wikipedia, google ... you know how it goes."
"It doesn't go like that."
Through the sweet night air, too sweet to be summer, too salty to be autumn – Taranee sighed. "I was umm ... told you might come. I'm not expected to be a part of your band of merry Sailor Scouts. The problems in Meridian aren't ... what I mean to say is ... now that the Blade of Kandrakar has been removed ... there are bigger fish to fry."
"You're not making any sense." But it was a familiar topic. Her mind raced – because she knew that she'd heard it all before.
"That sword is crucial. Crucial to the very fibre of our existence and ..."
"Stop." Yan Lin said. There was a certain edge of pride in her voice because she had always known that although the arthritis, high blood pressure and liver spots may claim otherwise – her mind wasn't that old.
"What ..."
"I've heard this speech before. Oracle, circa 1946. That's the thing about immortal beings, their mantras never change. Halinor, you dried out whore. Where are you?" That bit she spoke louder, but really it was unnecessary. If it was who she thought it was ... there was no doubt that she had been listening in from the very start.
Taranee began to panic. "H-How do you ..."
"Lesson one child. I am as old as fuck." She was truly proud of it. "And somewhere along this life of mine, I did actually learn everything."
"Yan Lin. There's no need to be rude." There was a slight pop, a ripple in the very fabric, essence and sanctity of time – and suddenly there were three persons standing on that front porch in the nice part of town. "I wish I could say you'd aged well but ..."
"Well, we can't all hold ourselves together with black magic and duck tape." Yan Lin quipped. She wasn't happy to see her old colleague. Things were complicated between the remaining three old guardians – how couldn't they be? But there was something in Halinor's faded ice blonde hair and dusty blue eyes that made Yan's chest ache with nostalgia.
"Taranee go inside." Halinor, former guardian of fire and new advisor to the Oracle on the Council of Kandrakar (thank you very much), was dressed in immaculate white robes, embroidered around the edges with beautiful gold thread. "Yan Lin," She watched Yan Lin's attire of soup covered apron and thick red sweatpants with obvious distaste. "You won't bother her again."
Yan Lin didn't miss a beat. Having Halinor here added a completely different flavour to the stew (as it were). "What does the Oracle want with one particular guardian?"
Taranee had obeyed, obviously sensing tension – she rushed inside to go back to her room.
The door clicked shut and there was the meticulous thump of feet before Halinor decided to speak. "You act like I'll tell you."
"All right then, tell me this, what have you been filling her head with about Meridian? The guardians protect the veil. The veil disintegrates when either side goes out of control! How can you have her spewing trash about the blade?"
"Trash?" If she could sound upset, she would have. However, the blonde was the epitome of the ice princess. "May I remind you that the heart of Kandrakar is the single most powerful magical entity in the Universe."
This was really too much, thought Yan Lin. "Guardians guard the veil! Do you hear the name? Guard-ian? Do you think that was an over sight?"
"If you would open your eyes you would realise that the blade is in danger!" Halinor edged closer, she acted as though if anyone who overheard would think this was anything but the ramblings of two senile old women. "That little girl you have toting that sword around in a guitar case! She went to Nerissa. Nerissa brought her to Mount Thanos! Do you understand what that means?"
"I am training Will." She understood. Yan Lin understood better than she would ever let on. "She is improving ..."
"Improving? Do you remember how Nerissa was?" Yan Lin smirked when she heard that, as if she could forget. "No one has ever wielded that blade like her!"
"Nerissa was obsessed!" She argued. "You cannot compare Wilhelmina ..."
"Exactly! Obsessed and you're crazy if you think 64 years locked away has changed how she feels."
The last sentence hung in the air for a few long moments.
"We've never had a situation like this." Halinor finally explained. "The way the guardians operate has to be changed. We are leaving you with four. That is more than enough. Taranee will be trained for special circumstances."
"Why did you pick her?" She was upset about this. They needed five. "Why didn't you just train Will to protect herself?"
"Taranee is the strongest. Besides, I understand fire."
And that was all. There's a feeling one gets when everything to be said has been said and it's all over. Well, almost everything. "How can you do it Halinor?" Yan Lin found the audacity to ask.
"Do what?"
"Work with them, knowing what they did to us." It was really that simple in her mind. Here it was, sixty years of hurt and blame and betrayal, unravelling in a single question.
"Nerissa did what she did," Halinor was always much too cold for someone meant to hold fire. "And you're already banished for saying things like that, so perhaps you should stop."
And then she was gone.
Yan Lin stayed on the porch, considering her options. She could snatch the girl – she did need her – convince her to play both sides – the Oracle couldn't force her to not help Meridian. Despite what he might think.
Yan Lin didn't though. She never did anything but leave the nice part of town after thinking for a long time about what Halinor had said about Nerissa.
She hated to admit it. But if Nerissa was still around, then Taranee needed to stay just where she was.
No one wanted that bitch back.
Author: Well sorry for the delay but it is nice and long with a bunch of revelations. Taranee's purpose in my story isn't really to be one of the original guardians, she's being trained for something greater and will only make cameos for a bit. I actually decided to do this because I was just tired of writing entrances for the guardians. Also, the whole Nerissa/Oracle arc is more my focus – I have this whole conspiracy thing worked out, I love it.
Besides they all have sooo many personalities I wanted to establish some of the girls' other traits before I brought in hers.
If you recall long ago in chapter 2 or 3, there was a man called Baldorn that I think a few of you picked up was a little off. Yes, he's a spy. Muhahaha and in the next chapter F is for Friend, the guardians will be attacked. Yay battle time.
I do love this story. Sometimes I get so excited thinking about what I wanna write for it. So just bear with me, it's not dead, just stagnant sometimes.
Reviews are always appreciated.