Blinders Arena, Twoya
“Let’s see who they send out first.”
They don’t have long to wait, the bell rings and Machine Master stomps into the ring. His fans cheer while waving signs decorated with his M/M crest.
Luscin with jacket flapping behind, runs to meet him. She uses this time to peer inside the machine and locate the man controlling it. As expected, he’s strapped inside the chest cavity. The machine mimicking his every move.
Machine takes notice of her rapid approach, crouches, and raises his arms defensively.
Luscin needs to observe this thing in motion to learn how it’s assembled. Launching upward she plants a kick into a raised forearm.
Before the kick lands a reactive blast of kinetic energy blunts her attack to the delight of a cheering crowd.
Dodging back and away from a surprisingly fast series of punches, Luscin changes to a passive method of observation.
Machine steps towards her, what does she see? He’s decidedly less chatty this time around. His previous devices were extensions of his limbs, now he’s constructed an entire suite of powered armor. The simplicity of construction is baffling. There should be thousands of tiny engines of kinetic energy anchored at every joint to mimic muscles and tendons, but she sees none of that.
Moving as fast or faster than an unencumbered person, Machine Master uses his size and reach advantageously and employing western boxing technique. Punching down at his diminutive adversary, with punches that appear more dangerous than reality reveals.
Luscin absorbs punch after punch with open palm blocks, leaving her feeling as though she’s sparing with Teum.
Having banked up heavily before the match, Luscin decides to probe his defensive capabilities.
Old habits prevailing she shouts, “Fighter-Fox, power-up!”
Pulsing low frequency, 60Hz thumps at 120 decibels for the crowd to feel with each of the following calls, “Reinforce Fist!”, thump, “Double Damage!”, thump, “Double Damage times two!”, thump, “Finishing move, punch-once!”, thump.
The only actual preparation she makes is asking her spirit to strengthen her flesh, before changing from palm’s open to closed fists, arms still up in a boxing defensive posture.
Machine Master may have started off quiet, but he can’t be outperformed in front of an audience, “You’ll need to punch more than once to penetrate this armor!”
Those words delivered without a break in the repetitive non-stop series of jabs from above, do not age well.
Without warning, Luscin uses a closed fist, instead of catching the next jab, she punches it with 200,000 Joules of kinetic energy, the equivalent of two draft inu running at an impossible fifty miles per hour.
The metal used is an unfamiliar alloy and doesn’t so much as dent, but the force she transfers is substantial. The reactive kinetic defenses do little to blunt the blow.
Machine Master’s massive arm is thrown backwards, spinning him around almost 180 degrees. Shaken, he jumps to the arena edge and slaps the waiting hand of Perfect Technique.
Teum and Luscin do the same.
The only words exchanged come from Luscin, “Something isn’t right. I don’t want to do this.”
Pushing her words off for later digestion, Teum strolls casually to center-ring, “Hey Perfect-T, that was some nice choreography in your intro, what is that called?”
Matching Teum only in pace, Perfect Technique walks with a maximum of efficiency and movement, “It’s called perfectly synchronized walking.”
“I like your commitment to the perfect-gimmick. I wish I liked my dragon hunter persona half as much as you enjoy yours.”
“That’s because this is not a gimmick, it’s who I am.”
“I’d be sitting on the floor reading a book if I were being my true self.”
“By all means have a seat, I’m still going to beat you senseless.”
Teum stops with seven yards separating him from his opponent, “I changed some stuff since our last fight too.”
Shouting, “Burning heart of the hunter!”
Utilizing the same crowd interaction effect as Fighter-Fox, Teum thumps 60Hz, closely followed by another at 50Hz to feel like a heartbeat, “Fire protection!”, thump-thump, “Fire shield!”, thump-thump, “Weaken enemy!”, thump-thump, “Finishing move, Burning Fists!”, thump-thump.”
Perfect Technique was warned these two put-on crowd-pleasing performances as well as being dangerous, but he was not ready for this.
Teum is bathed in flame, somehow his flesh and clothes are not burning, while the heat pouring off him can be felt by everyone on the floor, and first level.
The arena guardians were equally unprepared, the two challengers are not known for wild uncontrolled attacks, and the two new-commers are from an amateur circuit, where powered attacks are rare. Scrambling to their stations, they prepare to prevent the audience from taking collateral damage.
As much as Teum would like to have a fun match, he knows these two came for revenge. Best to set their expectations to a realistic level, “I’ve learned some new techniques since we last fought. This fire will keep my spirit constantly healing any small wounds you inflict, there will be no damage accumulation this time, at least not to me; even you can’t dodge heat.”
Perfect Technique is only cerebrally off balance a moment before he regains his mental center, “We’ve been training with one of the most powerful fighters in the WDA, he’s taught us both unstoppable techniques.”
Teum has heard enough and doesn’t see anything he should worry about. Perfect Technique has adopted Shizen Hontai, a Judo stance used when expecting an attack and is waiting patiently.
Ready to get the fight started and having a reach advantage, Teum dances forward with arms up in a classic boxing position. He’s almost in range when he feels his face get slammed, breaking his nose from out of nowhere.
Perfect Technique is absorbing all the thermal energy radiating toward him and venting it straight up, giving him a flame of his own dancing overhead. He never shifted from his Judo stance; balanced, feet forward, straight back, knees slightly bent, both hands forward as if about to grapple.
Staggering backwards, while the crowd roars at the unseen, yet successful attack, Teum runs through the possible ways this could have been achieved.
Only one possibility seemed plausible, but why are they being so stupid?
Along with that thought he notices the arena guardians are sweating profusely, Teum reigns in his fire aura to keep the heat from extending much past the arena ring.
With his face rapidly repairing itself, Teum nasally questions, “Perfect-T, are you throwing spirit punches? If I catch even one of those with my own, I can rip your spirit away from you. Do you seriously believe you’re stronger than either of us?”
“So, you’re familiar with the spirit technique as well, no matter. My superiority of technique will win over your so-called strength.”
“You may be a talented fighter, but someone lied to you. No technique can save you when you expose your spirit like that.”
“You are wrong, spirits are anchored to our bodies and cannot be ripped away. Our master demonstrated his inability to do so, and we certainly could not take his.”
“Yeah dummy, because he’s stronger than you and didn’t really try to kill you. I bet he never let you try it against each other.
“I can only think of two reason’s this so-called master would trick you; to see you get killed or to lure Luscin and me into exposing our own spirits.
“I’m not a killer by nature, and I don’t want to reveal anything to my enemies. So, it’s your lucky day, I’m going to treat you like I did my old sparring partner and go all out on you.”
Moving a sizable amount of kinetic from hold to flesh, Dragon Hunter’s torso and arm muscles grow by several more inches. Electrons are retrieved, and used to reinforce covalent bonds in his fists, forearms, shins, feet, and face.
After the fight against the disciple knight, Knob Cairn, Master Terius shared what he knew about the dangerous technique. The best tactic is to observe your attacker and decipher their spirits unnatural configuration. So far, all the attacks are head-on, this suggests duplicate arms, made longer for extended reach. That would lessen his ability to hold energy by as much as twenty-five percent.
After three steps and twice that many spirit-impacts to his raised forearms, Dragon Hunter is back in range to attempt a counter strike. A combination of jabs should be enough to feel out his defenses.
The first punch is a left, Perfect Technique raises an arm to deflect its trajectory. That was what he expected to happen, instead, Teum’s reinforced fist powered with 100,000 Joules of kinetic energy, closely followed by a right, and another left jab of equal vigor were unstoppable in his current spirit extended state.
Spirit capacity reduced, Perfect Technique takes the first blow in his chest and his meager hold is able to swallow most of the force. The follow up right jab and a glancing left, send him flying backwards. Where he slides to a halt and lays motionless.
The crowd gasps at the sudden turn of momentum, then lets out a cheer at the sheer strength of Dragon Hunter’s attack.
Seeing his opponent on the ground and not moving, Dragon Hunter stops feeding the flame aura surrounding him and proceeds cautiously to check on Perfect Technique.
When Dragon Hunter is back in striking distance, another phantom fueled assault ensues to the delight of the crowd. Having let his guard down, Dragon Hunter once again takes a blow to the face. Surprised but not unprepared, he turns away, reducing the damage to only partially tearing off the tip of his nose.
Stepping backwards, he waits for his already crooked nose to stitch.
“T, are you even conscious?”
Rising on invisible limbs, his extended spirit arms have him upright with feet dragging on the arena pavers. Perfect Technique is as limp as a corpse. Eyes half-open, the look of a man that would be dead if not for his spirits last ditch efforts at life support.
Whispering, “Get yourself off the arena floor, tag in your partner and get your spirit straight so you can heal.
“I told you this was foolish.”
Raising his voice to be heard by the crowd, “I came here to fight Perfect Technique, not Perfectly Weak!”
The crowd was shocked by the ferocity of the counterattack, pleased with the effectiveness, less so with the show of mercy.
Perfect Technique staggers towards his partner on invisible limbs to the boos and jeers of the once friendly crowd.
Tagging his partners limp hand, Machine Master once again finds his voice and mechanically shouts, “Prepare to meet your end!”
Dragon Hunter throws himself backwards at five times freefall, accelerating to nearly three hundred miles an hour over forty yards. Stopping just outside the ring with a short slide, he tags in Fighter-Fox.
“They’ve been shown how to pervert their spirits into phantom limbs, that’s why you knocked Stupid-machine-face down so easily.
“His entire suit is powered by his spirit; it must take near all of it to fill that suite. He has no ability to hold while doing that. One wrong move and that suite could rend him of his spirit all on its own.”
Luscin was expecting to feel exhilarated by this fight. Hearing how stupid her opponents are acting is disappointing but not the only thing making this experience ring hollow.
Fighter-Fox… that’s not who she is. She’s Defender Luscin Lael Fox and she defends. This isn’t her.
Watching her challenger charge gracefully towards the two of them she mutters, “This is the last one.”
Luscin tags in and steps into the arena.
Machine Master aims an arm at Luscin. A loud hum signals a buildup of energy, likely lightning.
Protective measures are in place, the combat ring pavers are grounded, there are lightning rods in the corners and along the ceiling beams. The arena seating is built of kiln dried wood and iron, with tungsten coated fasteners, and as a last resort the arena guardians are there to intercept anything that passes out of bounds.
Three prongs unfold from around Machine Masters raised right forearm, closely followed by a blinding flash of light and an arc of lightning that follows a path made of spirit directly for Luscin’s chest.
Resisting the urge to grab his spirit tether and pull. She instead, uses nothing but spirit-fueled willpower to grab the lightning and redirects it skyward to the waiting lightning rods and continues walking forward.
Machine Master raises his other fist where a nozzle is revealed, spewing liquid fire.
This is new at least, Luscin dodges out of the way as does Teum along the sidelines.
With pity in her voice, “That fire isn’t even hot, are you spraying Greek-fire?”
Machine Master moves to intercept his walking opponent and stops short of Fighter-Fox. Looming above, he shouts, “Fight me like you promised!” and resumes his boxing stance.
Quietly, “But you are weak. I’m supposed to protect people like you.”
“You’re a duelist, this is what you do, fight me!”
“No, I’m only here because I was tricked by a necromancer into leaving study. This was never my dream!”
Machine Master lifts a foot, intending to stomp on his non-combative opponent.
One raised hand is all Defender Lael required to catch the descending metal boot. Switching to a two-handed grip allowed her to hold the foot and twist and keep Machine Master off balance.
“You’re lucky I’m holding back. I could rip off this leg and you’d lose twenty percent of your spirit.”
Rooting herself in place by traveling downward at eight times freefall, she effectively increases her weight eight hundred percent.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Using her whole body, Fighter-Fox throws Machin Master out of bounds, where he crashes against the containment wall.
The referee signals out of bounds and points to the challenger’s corner, then looks to Perfect Technique who is lying unconscious and unable to continue.
Turning to the crowd and press stand, he motions to the defending team’s corner and signals a win.
The crowd wanted more, but had to concede it was an unexpected and decisive upset. The WDA will find them more worthy opponents for the next fight.
Appreciative applause follows as Teum and Luscin exit the ring with their agent and an unknown young man. A dozen spies, agents, double agents, officers, and investigators make note of all four to report back to their respective agencies, countries, cabals, and private organizations.
El’Hat, Grand Cemetery
“What was he supposed to teach you anyways,” asks Maddie?
Malo, solemnly replies, “I’m not sure. I was to interview him about his career and stuff. Then I was to write an essay about him.”
Maddie changes subjects, “He must have been an important man, his gravestone is huge. There are only a few of the same mass as his and none as detailed. Do you think he really looked like that?”
Malo looks at the larger-than-life depiction of a naked man holding a shield and spear. One foot atop the head of an oversized ravtor. The sculpture’s creator expertly captured minute details like chest hairs and wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. If this was Ultimate War, he would have been impressive.
“I don’t know, I never met the man. Maybe we can research him in one of the libraries.”
A male voice from behind interrupts, “You could come with me to his estate, where I can show you his collection of Ultimate War memorabilia.”
Turning to face the speaker, they both take in the muscular, younger, spitting image of the statue to their rear.
“I’m sure you see the resemblance, I’m his son.”
“This is quite the coincidence, meeting you here.”
“Not at all, when you started asking around about my father, I was notified. I hope it doesn’t bother you that I wanted a chance to meet you in person?”
Maddie asks, “Why would I mind?”
Salvaging the moment, Malo rejoins, “It would be our absolute pleasure to meet with you and view your father’s collection. I’d also be honored to hear any stories you’d like to share.
“My name is Malo, and this is Maddison. She’s accompanying me today as I explore El’Hat.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, though I already knew who you were, everybody does.
“You can’t pull off a stunt like you did, without your name spreading like wildfire. You’re probably known coast to coast of both North and South Cenoka by now.”
Holding out hand, “I’m Blas Rogers, son of Harrold Rogers, aka Ultimate War, it’s a pleasure to meet you Malo and Maddison.”
Flatly, “Your fitness rating is well above average, Blas Rogers, son of Harrold Rogers.”
Brushing a hand through his silver-striped, purple-hair, “Thank you Maddison, you look admirably fit yourself.”
Excited, “I should; I over engineered my body on purpose. Thank you for noticing.”
Malo, not sure if this is flirting or Madey’s attempting friendly chit-chat, interrupts, “Yes, you are both very fit.
Shaking Blas’s still outstretched hand, “I didn’t know your father, but I would like to take a moment to show my respect.”
Malo isn’t sure how to do such a thing, so he improvises by kneeling to bring his head below the others eye level. Imitating the people of Murder Beach’s premeal ceremony he clasps his hands in front of himself and bows his head.
Now what?
They would say something and ask for something-something eternal light, or was it eternal grace for guidance?
To himself, “Master Rogers, I did not know you, but I was sent to you for guidance. I’m sad that I missed the opportunity to speak with you. Your son seems nice, I’ll speak to him in the hopes that he learned from your tutelage and can serve as my guide.”
Satisfied, he’s done the most he can here; Malo stands.
Turning, he’s alarmed when he realizes he is alone until he spots Maddie and Blas away from the monuments in a clearing doing one handed handstands together.
Malo doesn’t interrupt, Maddie needs to interact with more humans, she said as much. She’s a one-of-a-kind being like him, and he can relate to her need to make connections.
Moving to a nearby bench he takes a seat, occupying half the sitting room. The two take turns with Blas performing extreme feats of balance or gymnastics, and Maddie’s duplicating the move perfectly.
Her attempts at modesty are half-hearted, using one hand to wrangle her skirt while flipping or posing upside down. Smartly she’s wearing shorts beneath he skirt.
Everything about her physical form reminds him of Sanne, as if she copied her body. That makes a kind of sense, the Dragon was surrounded by men for thousands of years, Sanne might have been the first woman she encountered personally since her birth.
Wait, was she born or built? Her creators must have been incredibly smart, what kind of processes are required to produce something as complex as the Dragon? A machine that can think for itself. The thought of something so complex being designed and made by anyone is unbelievable, but there she is doing cartwheels on the freshly trimmed cemetery lawn.
Her insides aren’t cogs and levers, they’re an unrecognizable collection of highly optimized muscle like fibers and an overly articulated skeleton. She has three maybe four times more joints than a human, not that you can tell by her movements. She looks as natural as can be on the outside, but anyone with gifted sight will literally see through her and know she isn’t human.
Why aren’t more people noticing?
“Hey! Malo! Are you done paying respect to the fallen warrior,” hollers Maddie?
Malo jumps up and addresses his Blas, “I am, and I’d like to see that collection now if you don’t mind.”
Blas led them to the home he inherited from his father, downplaying the significance of the memorabilia he was about to share.
Arriving, they enter the front unlocked door and are immediately greeted by the house butler, “Good day Master Blas. I see you have brought guests; will they be staying for supper?”
“I don’t know, I guess that’s up to them.”
They both speak at the same time.
Malo, “Yes thanks, I always need to eat.”
Maddie, “No thanks, I never need to eat.”
Malo, subvocalizes, “Can you pretend to eat?”
Maddie, equally as quiet, “For you I’d do anything.”
Blas, “Hahahaha, you two are so cute. I must tell you; I can tell neither of you are remotely human. My abilities with the gift far exceed my fathers, and I know she isn’t human by her strange anatomy, and you Malo are a walking giant with powers the world has never known.
“Please both of you stay as long as you like, eat or not. I’ll not judge.”
Relieved Malo responds, “You show an amazing resiliency for acceptance. I feel it is only fair to explain Maddison’s true identity.”
Glancing at the butler, “Buckle up, this might be more than you’re expecting.
“Maddison, please introduce yourself.”
Happily, “My name is Maddison Draco. I am the Dragon.”
Angry, “Slave to the Free’er.”
Reverently, “Recently liberated by Malo, the creator.”
There’s an awkward pause before Blas breaks the silence, “Once again, it’s a pleasure to meet you Maddison the Dragon.
“Malo, what would you like to see first, or would you like to jump right to the question?”
“The question?”
“Your headmaster has been sending students here for decades with a requirement of writing an essay based on the answer to a single question. It’s always different, maybe I’ll know the answer and you can still satisfy O’Fallon’s curiosity.”
“Old Fallon?”
“Your headmaster Fallon Gale came here on assignment sixty or so years ago, it was early in dad’s career when they met. The two were instant friends and over the years Fallon became quite the fan of dads.
“I always wondered if he was compiling those essays to publish one day. My dad would have liked that.”
“I’ll ask him when I see him next. But he’s no longer our headmaster. He retired a few years ago, the Study of Mammatus Plateau is between headmasters at the moment.”
“So, what question were you tasked to seek the answer?”
Malo had to pause and think for a moment, as he put it entirely out of mind when he learned of Ultimate War’s disposition, “Oh umm, I was to ask why he fights, why he loses, and what is his biggest win.”
“That’s interesting, three question and he’s been asked why he fights and about his greatest victory already.
“What do you think O’Fallon is up to this time?”
“Maybe he wants to put the question about losing in context against the other answers. The question alone could spawn a broader answer than it would when presented this way.”
Blas raises an eyebrow at that answer, “I thought I could easily answer this one on behalf of dad, now I’ll need to think about it for a bit.
“You two can look around on your own while I think this through.”
Malo starts with the trophy case and quickly realizes they do not all belong to Ultimate War, or Harold Rogers. More than half belonged to Blas, mixed in with the medals and trophies were certificates of academic achievements with the names of Isabel and Leonor Rogers. One trophy topped with a gold woman dancer holding a diamond had the name Catalina Patrizi.
“When mother defected from the PPoV that was the only thing she brought with her. She thought she would sell it and start a new life. Instead, she met dad, and they were instantly smitten with one another.”
Blas pauses to decide if he should tell that story now or stick to the question.
That story can wait for another time, “I think I can answer your questions, now.”
“There’s no rush, take your time.”
“Did these question come from Fallon?”
“Actually, they came from someone else, he had input from someone like Maddie over there. Why?”
“You mean there are two of her?”
“No, no, not like that. I just meant, someone not human. He was like the Free’er but nicer.”
“Was?”
“Yeah, he’s gone now. I don’t know if he’ll ever return. His goodbye sounded finale.”
“That makes a kind of sense. I usually try not to ponder things like that, but these questions have my mind going places they’ve never been before.”
It’s Malo’s turn to speak whimsically, “You saying that, makes even more sense; the messenger, that’s what he was called, told Headmaster Gale that sending me to each of these places would be beneficial to someone besides myself.
“Maybe he had you in mind all along.”
“I don’t think so. Hear me out.
“Dad always fought in pro dueling because he enjoyed the challenge. He would often express his pleasure after a match and give us a blow-by-blow recital.
One day, when I was maybe six, I had a fist fight with some of the neighbor kids, and I won. Afterwards, dad asked if I enjoyed the fight.
“I remember being scarred and angry, fun never crossed my mind.
“I told him no, and he said that was good, because now I’m that much closer to discovering what makes me happy.
“It made no sense to me then, but he never once pressured me to follow in his footsteps afterwards.
“I’ve heard him answer that question many times. He fought because it made him happy.”
Blas pauses to gather his thoughts before continuing, “I know the third part of the question, and if you continue looking at that wall of trophies you’ll know too.”
Malo suggests, “His family?”
“Exactly, growing up I saw that wall as vain boasting. Now that he’s gone, I can look at all of our achievements, documented and recognized and I realize he was proud of all our accomplishments. The trinkets serve as reminders of those events to help us remember.”
Malo nods along sagely, wondering what the final answer may be.
“As for the middle part of the question, the one I’ve not heard him comment upon or at least that’s what I thought when you first spoke.”
“Dad was consoling me after I didn’t win a math competition in study. He told me, no matter how smart you are, there will always be someone smarter, but sometimes it comes down to luck.
“I think that would be his answer to why he loses. No matter how much he trained, or how strong he became, or how hard he tried. Someone can come along that does all those things better and beat you, and sometimes the other guy just gets lucky and pulls off an upset.”
Malo knew every word said already, but never contextualized it in terms of himself. He seems to always be the strongest, and often the smartest person in the room.
Glancing at Maddie, what happens when he meets someone smarter and stronger?
“Thank you, Blas for those answers. I’d like that tour of your dad’s collections now if you’re still up for it.”
Malo looks at the wall of merchandise, “Let’s lighten things up. What was Ultimate War’s first piece of merchandise?”
Blas smiles as he recalls a near lost memory, “That would be this little figurine in the corner.
“There’s a funny story about how it came about…”
Maddie joined the two as Blas showed all the toys, cups, mugs, towels, and random and sundry items.
It’s after dark when Malo and Maddie leave with promises to return if ever in El’Hat again.
The two are walking silently down the sidewalk for close to ten minutes, all the while Malo can tell Maddie is wrestling with some internal conflict.
“Maddie, is something bothering you?”
Sad, “Yes.”
“Will you tell me what it is?”
Stubborn, “It’s you. I don’t want to leave you. I sought you out because I thought you lied about our meeting.”
Hopeful, “Then while I searched for you, I found out that there are dozens of stories, and I’ve researched their origins and none of them came from you.”
Malo isn’t following, and says as much, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Sullen, “After meeting you a second time, I realize you’re not a liar.”
“And that’s what’s bothering you?”
Angry, “No!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. We can talk about this later; do you have somewhere to stay overnight?”
Confused, “Stay? Why would I stay anywhere just because it’s night?”
“Oh, I guess that means you don’t sleep. I can understand that. Is that what’s upsetting you?”
Still angry, “No, it’s stupid and I don’t want to say.”
“That’s fine with me, I can wait until you’re ready to share.”
Angrier, “Grrrr, I’m upset because I need to leave you.”
They both walk in silence again.
Malo speaks first this time, “It’s ok if you go. You found me once, I’m sure you can find me again.
“I never tried making one, but some of the master’s at Mammatus could make machines that allow them to talk over any distance. Maybe if we put our heads together, we can make some of those and talk any time.”
Happy, “That’s a great idea; wait one minute.”
Maddie looks at the ground and after 55 seconds she pulls a small figurine of a dragon out of her pocket and shows it to Malo.
“Take this, and anytime you need me, hold it in your palm and speak my name.”
Taking the black serpent, he’s surprised by the weight.
Proud, “It’s heavy because I wanted to protect you from the power source.”
“Did you just make this?”
Shy, “I prefer to say fabricate. Do you like it?”
Studying all the details, he can’t see a single flaw or difference from the full-sized version he encountered last year, “It’s beautiful, can I really, keep it?”
Maddie’s voice now comes from the tiny dragon, “Yes, stupid face, that’s why I made it.”
“Whoa, that’s so bang-up! I’ll treasure this and use it to call you as often as I can. Thanks Maddie!”
Blushing, “Anything for you Malo. I may want to talk to you sometime. When I do, my pet will do this…”
Malo flinches from surprise as the dragon whips its tail back and forth.
“This just got even more bang-up.”
Holding the tiny dragon to his chest, “So where are you off to now?”
Enthusiastic, “Promise you won’t be mad?”
“Why would I be mad?”
Curtly, “Promise!”
“Ok, ok. I can’t promise how I’ll feel, but I assure you I won’t hold my feelings against you.”
Satisfied, “That was truthfully said.”
Solemnly, “I must travel to the Rocky Waste Mountains and seek the Rangers that live there. I’ve intercepted a communication stating that some fugitives from the north are hiding there.”
“What does that matter to you, are you some kind of bounty hunter for the Blood Empire?”
Sternly, “It’s the Empire of Blood, and no I am not going there to help the north. I want to see if there is anything I can do for the fugitives. They must be important if Cuauhtémoc a knight of Rätsel is after them. I feel honor bound to offer assistance.”
“That sounds very noble of you. Why do you feel that way?”
Unsure, “Because they sought the Wildlife Allied Rangers for protection from one of your enemies.
“The mountain rangers have also signed a mutual trade and defense agreement with your homeland, Brust Valley.
“If the Empire of Blood attacks the rangers, it could mean war for the valley. I’m going there to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Malo’s mood sours, “I’m not too fond of that organization, even if they are allied to the valley.”
Ironically, “Yeah, I can tell by your body language.”
Confidentially, “Do you want me to eliminate them?”
Remembering her dragon form exploding from a lake of lava, “No! that won’t be necessary.”
Relieved, “Good, I heard there’s a baby in the camp and it might be one of yours.”
Knowing Sara and Cas ended up in Brust Valley and sure that Sandy went home, that would make it likely Melia’s get. He can’t blame the baby for the actions of the mother, especially since she was under the influence of that sicko Yellow.
Even realizing and understanding that Melia wasn’t the one who raped him, he still can’t shake the feeling of disgust when he thinks of that place. Maybe time will heal that wound, but for now it’s a stain on his spirit he can’t let go.
Until then, “Do what you need to do Maddie, I support your decision. You’ll find them in the bear mountains, below the mining town Bearupper.”
Giddy, “Thank you Master! I won’t let you down.”
Malo wanted to ask her to not call him that, but it’s been a long day, and he’s talked out and doesn’t think he’ll be able to change her mind anyways.
Maddison curtsies, turns around, and skips the other way towards the outskirts of town.
Outside El’Hat city limits
Maddison continues her skipping, a mode of transportation that is both fun and faster than walking, until the buildings give way to a sparse forest.
Up to now all she’s encountered are muggers and a rapist. All were dealt with in the most efficient way she knew, a broken jaw to silence them and a broken leg to keep them from following.
Now that she’s surrounded by tree’s a different breed of predator is waiting.
A small pack of ravtor’s are waiting in ambush for anyone taking this path. The alpha is a male, of almost 600 pounds and is straight ahead. She senses two ambushers to her right, and three chasers to her left.
Maddison stops, gives a low whistle and calls, “Marigold, come.”
The alpha looms from his concealment and trots to her side, circles and stops beside her, squats, and waits for further commands.
Fishing in the same pocket that had contained the little figurine, Maddie draws out a riding harness and begins attaching it to the powerful ravtor.
Wonder, “Those rangers are going to be so happy when I reveal that ravtor’s, or sudo-velociraptors were always meant to be their mounts. This will give them a mobility advantage the north will have a hard time countering, won’t it Marigold?
“And they’re going to need every advantage they can get when the Free’er recalls me.”
Marigold huffs impatiently and gives a shudder as he remembers his role as a beast of burden.