by S. J. Wist
“Wraiths?” Sybl asked in worry, remembering the ones she had seen in the realm of death.
“Damek’s presence has made a gap of opportunity for them, as there are not as many Sentry around as there should be to keep them in the shadows.”
Sybl pulled free her festra and held it at the ready.
“Be careful, they are very fast.”
The first wraith emerged from the shadows, and as fast as the wind it came for her. Xirel cut it in two with his sword, as Sybl spun around in time to behead another. “Holy cheese, you aren’t kidding. Will a Nova help for this?”
“Yes, and we could use a few Sentry to come back,” Xirel said as another wraith cut his leg. He retaliated by cutting the solid shadow’s arm off, and then kicked it away from them.
Sybl regained her focus as she remembered her song of death. She began to hum and then sang, and the dark creatures screamed in pain as if her voice were acid burning them from the inside-out. The blades of her festra danced in tune with her voice against their attackers, until the demons retreated to the larger shadows they had come from. She let out a breath of relief at that.
Xirel sheathed his blade once he was certain that they were gone, and looked at Sybl. “You remind me of how I saw you on the battlefield in your past life.”
“Huh?” Sybl didn’t remember a thing until now. She was simply defending herself. “Maybe those memories just needed the right circumstances to heal.”
“I am happy that we can dance in battle together now, instead of against one another,” Xirel added. “But how positively rude of them to ruin our walk through the park.”
Sybl smiled as she caught the rest of her breath, grateful that she didn’t have to take on the wraiths alone. They sat down on the grass together then and waited for Luna to return.
31: COLD NIGHTMARES
The harsh snowstorm forced Cirrus to the ground on reaching the Suzerain Continent. It was impossible to track anything by his normal senses, as the Animus Threads of the world no longer led or vibrated in any direction with most of them frozen solid.
‘Did you think that I would allow you to return to my Continent?’
Cirrus looked around for Tenu as the ice shook. Then the shadow of the sea serpent passed under him. He really didn’t want another obstacle to fight through.
‘You allowed one of Aragmoth’s Fay to die and the loss of another will be the final draw of Thread on this world. His mere breath freezes the souls out of the eminor and Ancients.’
“If you’re not going to help, then get out of the way,” Cirrus said, as the sea serpent passed under him again.
‘Yes, I will help. By sending you to a quicker death.’
Cirrus turned and looked at the ice as it suddenly cracked and Tenu’s serpent crawled out from the water. He didn’t remember the black snake being so immense before. “Dammit. I don’t have time for this.”
Blood hit the snow as Cirrus went straight for its throat. It whipped its head and nearly threw his grip on it off, before he expanded bigger and brought the full fury of his weight down on it. The ice cracked, and both of them fell through and into the freezing water. Cirrus released the serpent as it tried to drag him deep enough to drown, and swam back to the surface. But Tenu grabbed his tail and pulled him back.
‘You will not escape my wrath so easily, dragon.’
Cirrus struggled to try and get free, before swimming down and sending his claws for her black eyes. But it was impossible to fight, let alone move in the icy water that didn’t slow Tenu in the slightest. He grew weaker as his blood left his body from numb wounds he couldn’t feel. He prayed that Sybl would find a way to make it, as he lost consciousness and blacked out.
Kenshe finally broke through the ice with his claws, and Gwa crawled in and swam after the dragoon as Tenu’s serpent swam away to whatever her attention was drawn to now. Gwa feared he wouldn’t reach Cirrus in time, but his perfect eyesight saw the dragoon, and he quickly caught him between his talons. He swam back to the surface, and the hole Kenshe kept open. Then he set the dragoon down on the ice where the phelan dragged Cirrus away by his shoulder. Then Kenshe grabbed Gwa by his neck feathers and hauled him out of the water.
Kenshe shook his fur out in relief. Then he looked at Cirrus as he sensed he was coming back around. “What did you do to piss her off so bad?”
“I think I will…just stop talking to females…altogether from now on,” Cirrus panted from where he lay on the ice.
“Do that,” Gwa coughed. “Because I’m not doing that again. That water is bloody cold, and Kenshe you smell bad enough to wake the dead even when frozen.”
“You aren’t exactly a flower garden yourself.”
Cirrus just blocked out their bickering as he tried to figure out what they would do next. The ice shook again, and he looked into the distance as Moon emerged from the ice. The Eminor had consumed the estus form of the sea serpent and doubled his size.
“You realize this will send the Atrum’s entire army down on us?” Gwa said.
“Might I make a suggestion?” Kenshe asked.
“We’re listening,” Cirrus replied.
“We can’t fly or travel the land or Keol in this. We’ll freeze to death before we get anywhere near Helios. We should take a train.”
“A train? Will it even travel in this?” Cirrus asked.
“The Keol is currently as hot as a sun—I’m willing to bet the tracks aren’t frozen,” Kenshe added.
Cirrus sighed as he didn’t have an argument against the idea. “Train it is then.”
Kenshe scratched his chin where the start to a beard had started to grow, before he looked at Gwa who was laughing at him, despite the pain in his face that hurt him more as he did. “What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking that the best place to start with trains would be with your father’s Runners, and since we have you, with Prisca.”
The color drained from Kenshe’s face.
“I don’t think even Cirrus can mess up this girlfriend,” Gwa added with a snicker.
“Girlfriend?” Cirrus asked, confused. Kenshe was only fourteen or fifteen now. Clearly something else wasn’t being said as Kenshe wrestled Gwa down in an angry flurry of snow and feathers.
32: KENSHE AND PRISCA
Cirrus stopped walking through the streets when Kenshe did, not being able to distinguish any of the haphazard houses from each other. Most of the Harbor was hiding in their homes, using what firewood and burnable things they could find to stay warm. The snow blocked off most entrances to the buildings, but they weren’t the only ones outside. He looked up to a closed window, where what looked like an ayame child was humming to the silent snow around her.
“Like I said earlier, Gwa is a complete idiot. As you can see for yourself, she’s only nine years old.” Kenshe looked up to the little girl, and it wasn’t until he spoke to her that she took more interest in them. “Prisca.”
“Kenshe? Is that you?” she asked as her eyes grew wider.
Kenshe smiled in turn, and Cirrus panicked when she jumped from the high window, landing on her feet with the agility of a cat. Then she ran to get a closer look at Kenshe. “I knew you were gorgeous!” Then the small girl hugged Kenshe as if her life depended on him.
Cirrus remained quiet, fearing his curse with talking to females could make this simple find and retrieve into a complete mess.
“Who is this guy?” Prisca asked, looking at Cirrus. “What a weird eye color.” Without warning, she grabbed Cirrus’ long, blond hair and yanked him down to her level to get a better look. She may have been just a little over a third his height, but she had a mean grip. “I like his hair. You will be in my Pack too.”
Cirrus gulped, and Kenshe tried not to laugh out loud. “It’s the sign of a good Novaist—eh, Caller,” he quickly corrected to the phelan words, “when they can see what they want in the future at such a young age.”
Prisca finished braiding a few strands of Cirrus’ hair while
humming, before finally releasing him.
“Is your dad around?” Kenshe asked.
“He’s inside. Come come,” Prisca urged, and caught Kenshe’s hand to pull him inside.
Cirrus gave a precautionary look around and followed after the little ayame and Kenshe. He entered the two floor house and looked at the old, grayed wood walls that made the place feel more like a shack. The decaying support beams looked like they could give out at any moment.
“I’ll go get him. Oh, before I do, you remember his condition, right?” Prisca asked Kenshe.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I’ll be right back,” Prisca said and ran off from the kitchen to head upstairs.
Cirrus looked at Kenshe with his curiosity drawn to the ‘condition’ they seemed to only know, as he sat down at the small table.
“Tank doesn’t talk anymore. Supposedly he lost his voice to the Black Death on the Torian Continent, when Simera took Serena from them.”
Cirrus remembered the day. He was still young, but he was there when Simera made the split decision that he wanted Serena, and that meant taking her from Hain and his Pack. Only now did it occur to him how many memories Hain had blocked from where their paths had crossed in the past. Cirrus regretted coming along, fearing this phelan would recognize him, and it would ignite a fight. Is it an injury that can be healed or…?
“No one is sure. He won’t have Urio or any Sano so much as look at him. I think it was his pride that was actually taken, but I guess he hides it with the loss of his voice. Older phelan get strange sometimes in ways I don’t yet understand,” Kenshe finished with a shrug.
Cirrus and Kenshe waited it out in relative silence then, until a footstep shook the ceiling overhead. The next one shook the entire house. He looked at Kenshe with concern. Just how big is this guy?
Kenshe didn’t answer, only nodded in the direction of the stairs.
Cirrus thought that the stairs would cave in and snap from the giant phelan somnus who descended them. His dark hair was tied back in all its dry curls, and his dull red eyes gave him the appearance that he was at least a hundred years old. He stared at Cirrus for a while, before looking at Kenshe. Both of them looked to talk it out by psi, before Tank looked back at Cirrus with furrowed eyebrows. Cirrus got to his feet, not wanting to be caught sitting down if this got ugly. By Aragmoth’s grace alone, he wasn’t still the scrawniness of his last encounter with this phelan.
“So this…is where Fate comes around?”
Cirrus didn’t get the chance to answer, as Tank grabbed his neck and lifted him off of the ground by it. His strength and speed was uncanny.
“He’s the Fay’s Bond,” Kenshe said, trying to calm Tank down.
“I should break his neck,” Tank stated. “Which is undeserving considering the pain…you left me and the rest of my Pack in.” But Tank didn’t snap his neck and only set him back down.
Cirrus coughed and then rubbed his neck to make sure it was still there.
“Your kind is nothing less than a blight on this world.” Tank then looked at Kenshe.
“We need a good Runner to help escort a train to the town of Helios,” Kenshe said.
‘Helios? What would you want there?’
“We need a Gate to get to Earth,” Kenshe replied.
Tank nodded in understanding. “I will see Serena’s daughter. I wish to ask the Caelestis what draws her to the side of the dragons like it did her mother.” ‘Prisca pack some of our clothes together. We’re going on a train ride.’
“Yay!” she jumped up in excitement and ran upstairs.
“Is it safe to bring a child along with us?” Kenshe asked in concern.
‘My daughter is safer with me then staying home alone.’
“And I can Call!” Prisca hollered from upstairs.
‘And she can Call, a bit.’ “I am sorry about what happened to Hain. Your father was the best of us,” Tank continued in words.
“Thanks,” Kenshe replied, not wanting to go further into the topic of his father. “He died saving Sybl, and I like to think that it will count in the afterlife for him.”
Tank looked briefly at the floor. ‘Your father may have been a mercenary, as we all were back then, but he was a saint compared to the others I have seen.’
Prisca came nearly tumbling down the stairs with the loaded bag on her back. The little girl set the bag down, then leaned against it to catch her breath.
Tank went over to his daughter and picked up the bag as if it were a mere lunchbox to his size, and then went to get his sword that hung over the fireplace. ‘Will there be any chance of seeing the Black Death during this?’ he asked, looking at Cirrus.
“Unless Earth has miraculously allowed him to fly around, not likely,” Cirrus answered. He didn’t add anything about Simera being his father and he was unsure if Kenshe already had.
‘Is that what happened to that wretched bastard?’ Tank said with an amused laugh in his psi. ‘I suppose there is a place for everything, even diabolical creatures such as that one. If they managed to imprison him, I suppose it’s a more fitting punishment than death. Best to keep his soul where it can’t harm anyone else.’
Kenshe picked up Prisca and set her over his head and onto his shoulders. Prisca clung cheerfully onto his messy hair, and he ducked through the doorway out.
Cirrus and Tank had another stare down, and Tank could likely see just by his eyes alone whose son he was, but he said nothing more. He got the sickening feeling that this was going to be the most stressful ride of his life. Cirrus left the house to find Kenshe waiting for him with a questioning look in his eyes. “What?”
“I think I figured out your curse when it comes to females.”
“Really?” Cirrus asked, without enthusiasm.
“If Prisca here thinks you’re pretty, that means that you’re likely prettier than the majority of females. They don’t like losing along those lines.”
Cirrus only let out a long sigh, as he didn’t know how ‘pretty’ he might stay if Tank got a hold of him again.
33: TOY TRAINS
When Kenshe, Tank, Prisca and Cirrus reached the center of the Harbor where the train station was, they were greeted by unfriendly and distrustful looks. Urio was shouting orders and already assembling a train on his own accord.
Cirrus eyed the locomotive like it was his own personal toy train set that he had just received as a gift. It was the ultimate attention-getter as the whole station froze when he somned into his dragon form, fearing that he would take to the tons of metal like a toy.
Kenshe only shook his head. “Are you having fun?”
“I didn’t touch it,” Cirrus countered, shrinking slightly smaller in size, but still taller than the locomotive, as his light blue eyes peered just over its top. He looked around the station as Feryl and Urio had managed to round up some workers rather quickly. Urio was clearly the right choice to get things organized and done.
“Ah, Tank!” Urio said, giving his old friend a hug. “And you brought my favorite Caller as well!” He picked up Prisca, and she giggled as she was tucked under his arm like an extra part.
“Is this all we need?” Cirrus asked.
“We still have to hire some Runners,” Urio answered.
“Should I prepare to push it too?” Cirrus replied, not understanding what the old phelan was talking about in its entirety yet.
Urio laughed. “You hear that Feryl? Looks like you’re pushing this hunk of junk.”
“Hey, it works!” Feryl countered with a shout, wiping a line of black grease across his sweaty forehead as he walked over to them. It matched his black and white streaked hair rather well. “And it’s the only one I could acquire with the pickings you gave me to bribe with.” Then he looked at the dragon stalking his train. “Runners are phelan who escort trains to their destination. There are a lot of angry spirits, griffins and a bit of everything that tends to want a bite out of trains on the Suzerain Continent. They carry supplies and importa
nt people who would rather not use their own four legs. Now with the guarantee all the rogue spirits out there are angry, we need to be prepared.”
“Kenshe is a natural Runner, just like his father was. So that gives us three,” Urio added.
“You’re a Runner?” Cirrus asked Feryl.
“Yeah, I’m not too old yet.” He looked at Urio then. “You coming along?”
“I am, but I can’t be a Runner anymore. Don’t have that kind of stamina left in me.”
