CHAPTER 6- GONE AGAIN
“Gone again!” Deniz snarled.
He stomped around the sand as Busco pulled the curtain close on his sleeping cabin.
“Oi, you! Where's your mate gone? He's supposed to be covering a shift, right bloody now!”
Busco shrugged, the gleaming sunlight jabbing at his eyes.
“I haven't seen him.”
Deniz snorted heavily, and waddled off along the beach.
“Probably off chasing a butterfly, or somethin'.” He grumbled.
Probably asleep in the sun, more like.
Busco breathed out his anxious thoughts. From within the cabin, feral snores poured out.
From along the shoreline, he could see the river elemental woman, Ruroro carrying a covered basket, smiling in the sun. The humidity was heavy on Busco, the palms of the sun were pressing into his shoulders, and his brief excursion into daylight had already elicited sweat on his brow.
“Good morning!” She called out happily.
Busco grunted and nodded, suspicious of her good mood.
“How are you?” She asked, one hand shielding her eyes from the solar glare. Her teal body was glistening.
“Fine.” Busco said, still defensive, looking back towards his hut, hoping to scurry away.
She emitted a strong smell of salt from her cradled basket. He looked at it curiously, though the concentration began to make his head throb. She noticed, and smiled at him, pulling away at the white towel that laid over its contents.
“I've just been gathering materials. Foraging, I suppose you'd call it.” She chuckled to herself, as she revealed a damp clod of indigo seaweed.
“I've read it's supposed to be very healthy, and tasty too. There might be some medical benefits to it, as well.”
Busco grimaced, the thought of damp sea vegetation made his stomach roll.
“Right.” He managed to say, wishing this encounter would end.
For the second time, Deniz popped his head around the corner, and snarled in disappointment.
“Hel's daemons, I thought I heard Shajaestan.” He grumbled.
“What are you up to, Deniz?” Ruroro asked playfully.
Busco was astonished to see Deniz had blushed under his furred cheeks. The great, intimidating Gorillon relaxed his shoulders, and scratched at one arm bashfully.
“Just looking for another one of scallywag workers, is all. You seen Shajaestan, the western boy? Always goofing around with that stupid grin on 'is face?”
“I don't know him.” Ruroro said, shaking her head. “If I do see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him.”
Deniz grumbled, struggling not to look her in her eyes, and when he did, he smiled, revealing an arsenal of sharp teeth. Ruroro was not intimidated though, smiling right through the large foreman. Busco shifted awkwardly, desperate to get away from the two of them.
“Y'know, I'm going to try one of my old recipes for sea-weed snacks later today. If you boys get hungry, you should drop by and try some. Hopefully, they should be good.”
She smiled at Busco again, who was still fighting his revulsion.
“Thank you.” Deniz said, smiling in a vain attempt at appearing smooth. “That would be lovely.”
Busco felt a snort escape him, not expecting to see the great Gorillon melt in the palm of her hand. Deniz slowly turned his head to meet Busco's gaze, teeth still bared, but no longer smiling. Quickly, Busco took this as his time to escape, and pulled himself into the darkness of the cabin. There was a strange, fetid smell in the air, a mix of wet clothes and alcohol induced flatulence. The rhythmic snoring was briefly interrupted as Khol smacked his lips, and turned, the hammock struggling under his great weight.
“Hey, come on.” Busco said. “Time to get up, Master's expecting us.”
Khol murmured but did not budge, not until Busco put a heavy hand on his friends side and shook him. Khol splutted, looking around in a deep state of drowsy confusion.
“Busco?” He croaked.
“Come on, time to get ready. Master Gybalt will want to leave soon.”
Khol slowly pushed himself up onto his hands, the rough-spun sheet falling from his shoulders, exposing his massive hairy chest. He groaned and placed a hand on his head.
“Oh, I don't feel well. Busco, I think I'm coming down with something.”
He threw himself backwards into his net, causing the beams that held him aloft to scream, he pulled the blanket around him like a cocoon.
“Oh no, I really don't feel well Busco. Please, get some help, I might have to go back to the city.”
Busco sighed.
“You're not coming down with anything, you big muss.”
“How do you know? What if it's some jungle disease? From the water? From the food? Oh X above, what if it's fatal?”
He tossed and turned, groaning in a fit of melodrama. Busco watched exhaustedly, sighing.
“You're not dying Khol.” He said impatiently. “You just drank too much Ship-shine last night. It's what they call a hangover.”
Khol stopped moving, staring at the ceiling.
“A hang-over?” He blinked confusedly, turning to look at Khol directly. “How do I get rid of it?”
Busco shrugged.
“I have no idea. Just get dressed, I'm going to meet them now, and get some breakfast.”
“Wait, Busco! How long will it last?”
“I have no idea. Come on, don't take too long.”
Busco found Master Gybalt and Sir Douglas sitting by a large boulder before the stretch of jungle. As always, the grounds were a hive of movement. Builders had begun their work already, the smell of sharp sawdust and cut grass battled with the thick jungle air. There was also a smell of cooked meat and fish, from a tent were the Crustacead chef was diligently pouring thick stews of different kinds into tin bowls, but the smell only served to make matters within his stomach much worse.
He approached his two mentors who wolfishly devoured the contents of their bowls. Sir Douglas noticed him first, and choked down a mouthful.
“Ah, he survived.” He said with a grin, squinting in the sunlight.
Master Gybalt continued to spoon the stew into his mouth, only look at Busco from over the bowl.
“How's your head?” He asked with a full mouth.
Busco smiled, shrugging lightly.
“Not too bad.”
Sir Douglas chuckled as he tore a piece of a bread roll and dabbed it into his stew.
“Where's Khol?” Sir Gybalt asked.
“He's not doing as well as I am.” Busco said, smiling.
The two elder men shared a knowing smile, before retuning to their eating.
“You hungry?” Sir Douglas asked, reaching behind himself. “We saved you both a bowl of fish stew. Should still be warm.”
He held it aloft, a golden, thick liquid with white chunks of fish in it, with red pepper flakes and onion, with a chunky bread roll by its side. The smell hit him instantly, and he waved his hand at it.
“I can't stand fish.” He said, nauseated.
“You ever try it?” Sir Douglas asked, putting it back down beside him.
“Once, when I was little.”
“Not fish like this, you haven't.” Master Gybalt said.
“It's nothing like in the hatcheries at Skalett. This is fresh, from the river and sea.” Sir Douglas said, spooning the last of it into his roll. “It's incredible.”
Master Gybalt murmured in reciprocation, frowning at the culinary pleasure.
“No, I'm good, thank you Sir.”
Sir Douglas shrugged, picking up the bread roll and tossing it to Busco.
“Here, you eat that. I'll have your stew.” Sir Douglas said, pouring it into his tin bowl.
Master Gybalt noticed and held his bowl towards him, and Sir Douglas poured some out for him too. Busco sat heavily on the ground, softened by rain throughout the night, feeling more at ease closer to the earth. He bit into the roll, the outside was crisp and the inside was soft, a delight by itself.
“Did you get Khol up?” Master Gybalt asked.
“I tried to.” Busco said with a mouth full of bread. “I think he's coming.”
Sir Douglas chuckled.
“I knew this would happen.”
Master Gybalt nodded, fighting against a smile.
“I was hoping to be on the trail back to the castle by now, but if our sweet minotaur is feeling a bit tender, I can think of something to occupy our time while we wait for him.”
Sir Douglas smiled, looking directly at the confused Busco.
“We were talking.” Master Gybalt said. “If the opportunity for more wild animals, or any other danger presents itself, it would be a good time for you to learn how to defend yourself.”
Busco shrugged.
“I thought I was already okay at it. I hit that mountain hunter, didn't I?”
“You did.” Sir Douglas said carefully. “But you're still not trained in combat. You can never be skilled enough in that regard, Busco.”
Busco scratched at his head, the thought of too much moving only serving to spin his head more.
Master Gybalt placed his bowl by his side.
“Remember what I suggested yesterday?” He said, grinning.
The two combatants had moved away from the busy parts of the clearing and onto a hill, still in eyesight of the site. Sir Douglas had his sword within his sheath, and removed his cloak and shirt, revealing his bare chest. He flexed his right hand, still bandaged. Busco watched, as he too removed his robes until he just wore his black vest and grey trousers that lay beneath.
“Is he going to be okay to spar like that, Master?”
Master Gybalt smirked.
“Fight like you mean to kill, or you won't stand a chance.” Sir Douglas said, unsheathing his sword.
“Whoa, hey, what's going on with that? We're not actually-” His words stammered as he looked between the two men who only chuckled.
“Don;t worry you won't be hurt.” Sir Douglas said.
“Not physically, anyway.” Master Gybalt added, still smirking. “Turn the other-way and take ten paces, Busco. The duel will start on my command.”
Busco gulped, watching Sir Douglas move towards him, twirling the blade deftly in his hand. He met Busco's eyes with an unfamiliar look, one of pure focus and will. He was not the same man he had been travelling with.
“Good luck.” He said coolly.
Busco nodded, and spun on his bare heel. The ten steps away were laborious, each foot on earht sounded like a heartbeat within a colossal beast. As he stopped, he took a moment to watch the way the ocean curved around the shoreline, the clearing and beach-head were hidden, and somewhere over there was a city, the largest city in the world, as far as anyone knew. He turned to see the two men were watching him.
“Get ready Busco.” Master Gybalt called out.
Breathing out as if out of automation, Busco dropped to his stance, his arms tensed, ready, his feet dug into the cool soil, ready. Master Gybalt continued to watch his pupil, who remained tense, sweat beading over his body.
“Begin.”
In between the beats of a hummingbird's wings, Sir Douglas had moved, bounding towards him, his sword kept low and to his side. Busco barely had a second to realise what was happening, before half of the distance had been covered by the striking attack dog. Out of instinct, Busco called upon his muscles to bind with that of the earth's. He pulled upwards, haphazardly, not knowing what would come out. A jutting of earth emerged, a saw shape with jagged teeth, but it was already behind Sir Douglas, who was now only a few steps away. Busco called upon the energy in his other arm, pushing it upwards, and a tall spike appeared, again from behind his attacked. By now, it was too late.
The sword was arced high in a curved motion, glinting in the sun, and with barely a grunt, it was sent towards Busco's head. He dodged it, adrenaline piloting his body, energy and lightning mixing in his veins. Again, the blade came for him, as Sir Douglas readjusted its trajectory before it hit the ground, this time aiming for Busco's waist. Busco pushed himself downwards, forwards-rolling away from the Old Dog, but he could get no distance. Again the blade came towards his head. Busco pushed upwards again, another dirt spike rose somewhere on the hill.
“Pay attention to what's around you, Busco.” Master Gybalt called out.
What the Hel does that mean?
He felt his body lose control, no longer commanded by himself, but by some other pilot. Sir Douglas brought the sword, barely missing Busco's throat. He tried to step backwards, to gain some semblance of control, but he stumbled over the emerged dirt from before, landing heavily on his back. Suddenly, the shining point of the blade was at his throat again, and the cold look of his killer was above him.
“I win.” He said softly, letting his eyes relax. He offered a hand, and pulled Busco up.
“Again.” Master Gybalt said.
Busco panted, rubbing at his thighs, as Sir Douglas walked towards his starting point.
“I hope you can make me sweat as much as you are this time, Quinn.” He teased.
Busco winced, and stomped back towards the starting point.
The round was even shorter this time.
Frustration overtook Busco, as he blindly hurled spike and ball at Sir Douglas, determined to get him before he could get anyway close, but the old paladin was too evasive. Busco was so prepared for a long distance attack, he hadn't let himself think about what to do in close quarters this time. Sir Douglas came in this time with his shoulder, knocking the wind out of the Nocterran student, and again onto his back.
“Again.” Master Gybalt said.
Frustrated, Busco pounded onto the earth, willing it to behave under his control as he wished.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“You're not thinking, Busco. You're giving in to adrenaline and fear. Those who stay alive in combat, are those who can keep their wits about them.” Sir Douglas said, walking once more to his starting position.
Busco could hear a thunderous clomping up the hill, as an exhausted Khol finally appeared, immediately blurting into some sort of apology, which Master Gybalt tried to gesture away, and beckoned him to watch.
Sir Douglas resumed his stance, and pointed the blade at Busco, before returning it to his side.
“Oh my X!” Khol shouted in complete dismay. “What are they doing?!”
Master Gybalt hushed him harshly.
“Just watch.” He hissed. “No distractions Busco. Begin.”
Busco let the air escape him. Sir Douglas did not move so suddenly this time, stepping move erratically, hopping from one foot to the other. Busco watched him, aware of the game he was playing. He breathed in, the smell of soil reaching deep into his body.
Quickly, without hesitation, Busco pushed his fist forwards, this time, aiming where Sir Douglas was going, rather than where he was. A large mound of earth pushed itself up, and Sir Douglas stepped onto it, the momentum carryign his foot through it, but throwing off his rhythm.
“Good!” Master Gybalt called out. “Anticipate his movements.”
Sir Douglas had lost speed, but it was no time to celebrate yet. Busco twisted his whole body, feeling not just the energy connect to his hands, but to his wrists and triceps. He gestured like a scythe, feeling the power build, snapping his arm forward like a whip. The mound was much larger this time, bending upwards like a snake, catapulting itself directly towards Sir Douglas's face. With a roar of exhaustion, he pushed his sword through the earth, dashing it into pieces. Busco felt his heart quicken, but he kept himself in control.
Feeling the earth under the soles of his feet he pushed down with them, roaring himself. Using both of his arms, he grasped as if holding an invisible boulder, feeling the energy link his body to different nodes, and to the earth itself. Roaring, louder, and fiercer, he pushed upwards, and the earth beneath Sir Douglas shifted, upheaving, launching into the air. He heard Khol gasp, bringing his concentration back, and the earth began to sift and fall. His arms burned, and Sir Douglas had moved, coming from his right, the sword beginning to curve into attack formation. Busco swiftly moved his open palm towards the earth before it returning to the hilltop ground, feeling it curve and tighten into a ball, and dragging it towards them. Sir Douglas was forced to swing his sword towards it, and it exploded on his wrist, and the old knight winced in agony.
This was his moment.
Busco pulled at the ground beneath Sir Douglas, pulling at it like a rug, causing him to stumble, his sword clattering to the floor. Busco pushed upwards, another mound, and Sir Douglas bounded backwards, and seeing the glint in his opponents eyes, was forced to bound back towards him, to take the fight out his eyes. Busco threw another ball, and then another, but both were smartly evaded. Sir Douglas was back within close quarters, but now, he had no sword.
He threw a couple of fists at Busco, who dodged, ducked and weaved, before sending a small, but concentrated ball upwards. It struck Sir Douglas on the chin, leaving soil and dirt in his beard, and Busco roared as he sent a fist towards Sir Douglas' face. Abruptly, he let it stop, just almost close enough to touch. Sir Douglas looked at Busco, the two men sweating heavily, the determination had not left his eyes.
Busco smiled.
“I win.” He said in between breaths.
Before the final syllable was out, Sir Douglas had moved again, positioning his foot behind Busco's legs and striking with his elbow. Once again, Busco was on his back.
“Hey! No fair, I won that one!” He called out from within the cloud of dirt.
“No.” Sir Douglas said, standing over him. “ You hesitated. I didn't.”
Solemnly, he let out a hand to let Busco up, but this time, he batted it away, pushing himself up, and stomping away.
“Hey, don't let it be personal.” Sir Douglas called back. “This is what sparring is for, for you to learn, not to win.”
Busco grabbed his robes, bitterly muttering as he forced it over his head.
“He's right Busco.” Master Gybalt said. “If you want to win every-time, I would suggest fighting a dummy. The best way to learn, however, is to take a few defeats every now and then.”
“Only a few.” Sir Douglas said, smiling as he readjusted his bandages.
“What like what you did with the paladins?” Busco said darkly, not looking at the two men, but feeling the jab had hit its mark.
“Busco, watch what you're saying.” Master Gybalt said.
“It's alright.” Sir Douglas said sadly.
Busco stormed away down the hill.
“Busco! Where are you going?” Khol called out.
“To get my things.”
He had reached the beach-head by the time the sun was highest in the sky, but he did not go to his cabin. He sat on a mound of stones hugging his knees. He could see workers cooling themselves off in the ocean. Among them, was Artifae, drifting slowly along the waves before reaching the shallows. He stepped out, shaking the sea-water from his hair, and grabbing his towel. He ruffled his hair, until the two boys met each-other's gaze, but they did not smile at each-other. A gruff shout called out for Artie, and he took his clothes and began to make his way down the shoreline. Busco rested his forehead on his arms, the heat magnifying himself, hopefully enough to immolate himself and take him away from these blasted people.
“Busco?” A voice gently called. “Are you alright?”
Slowly he rose his head, to be met with the gentle face of a desert eve.
“Yeah. Fine.” He croaked.
Slowly, Sareta dropped herself down next to him. Her hair was tied up, and her denim jacket was tied around her waist.
“Are you sure?” She asked.
Busco thought about this for a minute.
“No.” He said quietly.
“No, you're not sure, or no, you're not okay?”
“Probably a bit of both.” He chuckled.
The two sat there, quietly again, as the soft waves lolled and rolled before them. The sea breeze cut against the blaring heat.
“Is there anything you want to talk about?” She asked.
He only sighed in response.
“I don't know. Maybe.”
She smiled, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He felt his back stiffen at the touch.
“Well, I'm here if you do. I'm gonna be working with Ruroroa for a bit, so you can find me there.”
“You're really going to do that?” He asked. “How come?”
She tittered lightly, placing her hands together in front of her.
“Well, I needed some work. Apparently, I owe one of the builders fifty Legacies for staying in his cabin. I didn't think he wouldn't take a Zwipe for it.”
“A Zwipe?” Busco asked, incredulously. “You really thought they would have machines that could take Zwipe cards out here?”
“Well, yeah!” She said, embarrassed. “Everywhere in Arnesfeld and Draper's Rise takes Zwipe now, hardly anyone takes cash!”
Busco laughed, rubbing his head.
“That's why I was up there.” She continued. “The Silver Tooth, they call it. The mountain where we saw the...y'know.”
Busco nodded, trying not to think about the stench of carrion between blade-like teeth.
“Wait, you went up there to find silver?”
“Yeah.” She admitted.
“Not to find yourself, or whatever it was you said?”
“Well I mean, yeah, that too.” She laughed. “I figured if he thought I owed him fifty silver Legacies, then I could find a big chunk that would cover it, and any equipment I needed.”
“But you would need equipment to get the silver.”
“Look,” She said laughing. “It wasn't my best idea.”
Busco shared within the laugh. She had a nice sounding laugh, a lower pitch than her speaking voice, but a beautiful rhythm to it.
“I suppose it wasn't all bad though.” She said calmly.
“No?” Busco asked, still chortling.
“I got to meet you guys, at least.” She said, smiling. “This island's better having friends on it.
Busco felt heat on his cheeks, and something forming in his throat.
“Yeah.” He said quietly, looking into her eyes, the pupils and irises so much larger than a humans, easier to get lost in. “I suppose we might not have if we were still in New Peridios, huh?”
She nodded, looking down at the stones.
“We might have.” She looked back at him. “I would hope we would, anyway.”
Busco's heart began to race. His hands were suddenly very sweaty. He now knew exactly what Khol was talking about.
The waves receded through his ears, as people began moving around them.
“What's going on?” Sareta asked, looking towards the horizon.
Busco was still entranced by her, only laboriously drawing his attention back to the outside world. Some of the labourers were running towards the coast line, all of them were looking up and pointing. There was a dot within the sky. Sareta bolted upwards.
“What is that?” Busco said, standing up too.
“No, it can't be.” Sareta said, her hand became a visor her eyes, her excitement building.
The dot was getting larger.
The crowds began to point and wave, and Busco still could ascertain what the dot was, and why he should be excited and not terrified. Over the waves was a distant hum, growing in size as the dot did.
“Can you see it?” Sareta asked with a wide smile.
Busco shook his head, concentrating intently, and as it got closer, he saw it wasn#t a dot shape at all. It was oval, and it had wings.
Perhaps not wings, but fins anyway. It almost looks like a boat. A boat in the sky...
“Is that a...?”
“Yeah!” Sareta said, clambering down the stones, closer to where the tide came in. Busco hastened to follow.
“An airship?” Busco asked, feeling stupid for saying it.
“That's right! The one the government have been making to help explore the new lands!”
She suddenly turned to Busco with a concerned look.
“You didn't hear about that? It was in all the papers?” She asked.
Busco snorted.
“I'm seventeen. I don't read the newspapers.”
The hum grew louder, a consistent hammering on a drum, with a slight hissing sound. As it slowly grew larger, Busco could see it wasn't as long as The Narwhal, and it was made of sleek metal. There were four fins at the top and back, each containing a drum of its own, that when properly observed, seemed to crackle with green electricity.
It was still small when it reached the beach-head, casting a brief shadow over what was now a packed beach. The sounds of whoops and whistles was abundant, and even Busco smiled as he waved. He liked to think whoever was up there could have waved back at the ants on the shoreline.
He and Sareta laughed together, before he noticed his other travel companions also watching, Khol's mouth wide open. Busco's smile faded, and Sareta noticed, looking back to the others. She made her way back to them, beckoning Busco to follow, and he did, albeit sulkily. He dragged his legs, arriving after Sareta had already embarked in conversation with them, pointing at the dissapearing air-ship, as the humming lingered a little longer.
“Where do you think it's going?” She asked, craning her head to see more of it.
“Just seeing what's out there.” Sir Douglas said, squinting as he set his head back to study the ship.
“The newly formed New Peridios Recon Unit.” Master Gybalt said with a touch of excitement. “That's the Luxoria. I was hoping we'd be here to see her in action.”
Khol mouthed something, in complete awe.
The hum grew quieter, and the whooping subsided, but the people were still excited. Some moved to the sparring hill to get a better look, but for most, it dissapeared beyond the tree line.
“Recon unit, huh?” Busco said. “So they just scout the island out from up there?”
“It's not an island.” Master Gybalt said.
“Well, they'll know better than we do.” Sareta said.
“Let's hope it just sticks to scouting.” Sir Douglas said darkly, and Busco could see his eyes were glazed beyond a veil of something only he could see.
“Right, we better start getting ready.” Master Gybalt said quickly, moving towards his cabin.
The others followed, except Sareta who watched them, until Khol turned to her.
“Are you coming, Sareta?” The minotaur asked.
Sir Douglas watched her suspiciously, as she sadly shook her head, looking down at the shingles and sand.
“No, I'd better stay.” She said quietly.
Khol pulled a disappointed face, but followed Sir Douglas back. Only Busco lingered.
“It's a good thing you know.” He said, trying to sound chipper. “Staying with Ruroro.”
“It is?” She asked earnestly.
Busco shrugged.
“Well y'know, you were saying about finding your purpose, and she's a healer. A medic, or whatever. Maybe your purpose could be healing people.”
Sareta scoffed, rubbing her arm bashfully.
“I don't know anything about healing people, though. So far, I've just been doing her laundry.”
“She'll teach you. Everyone needs a mentor, like me and Khol. I think you'll be good at it. You've got a-”
He stopped himself, his cheeks flushing, as she watched him expectedly. The time crawled for a second, and he fought for a way to get away from those big, dark eyes of hers.
“You've got a-” He tried again, gulping heavily. “You've got a good heart, Sareta. You want to help people and prove you can look after yourself.”
She smiled, nodding slowly, her eyes glistening for a second, and Busco watched her guiltily.
“You'll be fine.” He said eventually, leaving her on the beach.
The skies opened as soon as they hit The Beaten Path, but the heat did not die. Through mud and thick humidity, they trudged through the jungle, and only once they reached the salamander creek, did it stop. The great amphibians were out in force, and Busco thought about Sareta, smiling as he remembered her reaction to them.
When the rain stopped, the mosquitoes returned, preying upon their exposed faces. The petricholor that released from the soil after the rain was refreshing, sweet, almost, and soon the animals began to return. Squawks, squeaks and rhythmic roars, and the ever persistent buzzing of flies. When the castle was once again in view, they took a quick breath to massage their blisters and sores. The sweat had left Busco's sole stinging with every step, but as he took his bare-foot to the ground, he felt a sense of reassurance. It was a soothing feeling, and he wondered why he confined his feet to boots at all, but still he returned to them.
The rain began again as they reached the castle, just as the golden curtain began to draw itself. Once again, Busco fortified the gate, but the group was on edge. In the treeline before them, he saw and heard something within the jungle. It was not the mountain hunter, but something far more delicate.
It was an empty sleep, with Busco barely sleeping before he rotated to guarding. He looked through the wall, and beyond it, to where he knew the jungle was, keeping a careful ear out in case of further noise, but there was nothing to concern him this night.
After switching with Khol, he took a final few hours of sleep before the lilac sky roused him back to consciousness. They made a small fire and broke their fast on dried meat and slightly stale bread. Sir Douglas and Master Gybalt mused upon the absence of the fresh fish stew from yesterday. Busco felt a restlessness behind him, an itching at the back of his skull. He took a big bite of bread and chewed.
“Did anyone hear anything last night?” He asked without thinking.
“No.” Khol said, swigging out of his water-skin, sun shining through droplets in his fur.
“What did you see?” Sir Douglas asked, studying him closely.
“Nothing.” Busco said, swallowing. “Just thought I heard something last night, when I was on watch.”
“Probably just an animal.” Master Gybalt remarked, buttoning up his satchel. “Jungle's probably full of them, Busco.”
“Oh X.” Khol whimpered. “You don-don-don't th-think it was anoth-another monster?”
“No.” Sir Douglas said, relaxing. “I heard something as well, it didn't sound big. Something small.”
“You think something's out there?” Master Gybalt asked.
“Someone, maybe. I heard something close to muttering.”
“What do you mean?” Busco asked, leaning in.
Master Gybalt watched his old friend closely.
“What's the plan?” He asked.
Sir Douglas shrugged.
“They haven't approached us yet. We stay behind the wall for now, we'll be fine. Might just be someone travelling through.”
“Or they were lost.” Busco added.
“Maybe.” Master Gybalt said, scratching his beard. “We might have to be careful while trying to get into the castle, then. We've come this far, I don't want anyone to interfere.”
“With Busco's barricade up, I think we'll be fine, let's just keep our wits about ourselves.”
“Agreed.” Master Gybalt said, standing up slowly, massaging his thighs as he did.
Busco took a deep breath, looking up at the foreboding castle above them. With so much anxiety surrounding them, he hadn't taken time to recognise the great yellow fortress stnaidng in front of a pale sky. The group doused their flame, leaving a thin trail of smoke that drifted past their ankles, as they stood before the huge doors.
“Right.” Master Gybalt said, stretching his arms forward. “Ideas?”
He looked from Khol, who rubbed his neck nervously, and back to a stoic Busco.
“I could try burrowing a tunnel under it.” He mused.
“I don't like the sound of that.” Sir Douglas answered. “That's too much of a risk.”
“Agreed.” Master Gybalt said, looking up as he rubbed his chin.
“Khol?” Busco asked, his cheeks heating.
“I-I-I-I can't do anything, I don't know.”
“It's okay, relax.” Sir Douglas said. “We're just coming up with ideas.”
Master Gybalt kept a patient stare on Khol, who continued to squirm.
“I-I-I-I c-c-c-could try to open the d-d-doors again?”
Master Gybalt shook his head.
“As far as I see it, we need to do something about the seal, which I suspect might be on the other-side of that door. Furthermore, we need to ascertain how far up or down the barrier goes.”
“Another reason why we shouldn't go tunnelling underneath.” Sir Douglas added.
Master Gybalt stepped backwards, and down the stone steps to get a better look at the castle. He squinted in the morning light. The sun was not quite visible through the silver shrouds of cloud, but its light was still perforating. Busco swayed, feeling the heat even when shaded.
“There's a window.” Master Gybalt said, pointing upwards. “Right there.”
The others joined him, craning their heads to see it. Busco and Khol, being the tallest out of the four, still struggled to see anything except a reflected gleam.
“You want to try and climb it?” Sir Douglas asked.
“No.” Master Gybalt answered ponderously. “Although it would certainly help if we could see inside. If I get a clear view, I may even be able to use my Spatia magic to get ourselves in.”
He pulled the sleeves of his robe down to expose his forearms that had begun to wrinkle, but were still strong. The Viosta crystal in its brass cage along his wrist winked at Busco in the day-light.
“Do you think you could get us up there, Busco?” He asked, still looking upwards.
“Me?” Busco said, taken aback. “How would I do that?”
“Create a platform for us, from the earth.”
Busco thought for a second, staring at the grey ground. He remembered the strength it took just to fling a large clump of dirt, let along to lift one with a bloody great minotaur on top of it.
“I don't know if I can.” He said sadly.
“Can you get just me up there?” Master Gybalt asked, stretching his left arm along his sternum.
“I can try.” He said, gulping.
Khol and Sir Douglas backed off, and Master Gybalt poised himself. Busco inhaled for four, and exhaled for four, striking the pose of the Hran'thru. His concentration was solely on the ground beneath Master Gybalt. In his mind, he mapped out a circle, and listened to what it told him. He braced himself, his hands tensing. He felt the earth in front of him as if he was holding it.
“Take your time now.” Sir Douglas said quietly.
Sweat began to bead down Busco's forehead, irritating his eyes with its saline quality. Clenching his teeth, he pushed down his fist, roaring as if striking an enemy. The ground beneath Master Gybalt broke, shards of it flinging towards the air, and Master Gybalt was gone, launched into the air like a child on a rogue sea-saw, but only up to the height of the archway before the doors.
Oh no, not enough!
Before Gybalt began to fall back to earth, his forearm was pointed at the ledge like a weapon. With a brief crackle of blue energy and a hiss of air, he had vanished, reappearing directly in front of the window. Busco and the others watched with great smiles as Gybalt steadied himself, before giving a thumbs up.
“Good work, Busco.” He called down.
“What do you see?” Sir Douglas called up.
“I can see through the window.” His voice was nearly taken by the wind, and they watched as he struggled to keep his balance. “It's empty, we should be able to get inside.”
“How?” They all asked.
“Get ready.” He called down, aiming his fist at them.
“Hold on a second-” Sir Douglas tried to say before the blue blast came for them.
Busco felt himself flinch as the cyan fist of energy came hurtling towards them. It was cold, moving like hundreds of strips of wind tearing at him, but there was heat and light within it. For a brief second the sounds of carving metal shrieked within his ears, before suddenly snuffling itself out. The blue began to dissipate like a doused flame, oxygen returning to greet them, and they three were in the foyer of the castle.
The air was stale and musty, like an attic or an old bookshop, but more suffocating. The inside was surprisingly large, with great stone pillars. Walls hung with tattered banners of red and gold, and before them was a set of steps that led upwards. There was another brief shriek, as Master Gybalt appeared beside them. He dusted off his robes, and turned away from the steps, heading for the door.
“Well, here we are.” He said.
Sir Douglas continued to study the hall, his fingers tickling the edge of his sword, but Khol and Busco walked hurriedly to follow their master.
For an abandoned castle, it was decidedly clean. There was no rot on the door, or dust to speak of. Master Gybalt stood before the doors, placed in between them was a grey stone, with curling brown runes carved on top of it. Behind it, the doors shimmered slightly when Busco stared too closely.
“I thought as much.” Master Gybalt said quietly, reaching his hand towards the stone shaped object.
“Wait a second-” Sir Douglas called out, quickly strolling towards them.
Master Gybalt gently touched the object, pulling at it until it came clear, the sound of its departure echoing slightly. He held it as if it were a baby bird, before watching it slowly crumble and break apart. The shimmering beyond it disappeared.
“That should do it.” Master Gybalt said, letting the crumbling shards hit the floor.
“What is it?” Busco asked.
“Old spells. Arcane runes, placed on to an object. Clay I think.”
Master Gybalt rubbed some of the dust together on his fingers, leaving a muddy brown stain.
“That was what c-c-caused the barrier?” Khol asked.
Master Gybalt nodded.
“We should be free to leave now.” He said, breathing deeply. “Well, we're here. Finally. Let's have a look.”
Sir Douglas withdrew his sword, its shining swipe ringing lightly in the great halls of the castle.
Busco lingered as the others turned to leave. The doors were closed up tightly, no air seemed to be coming in. He waited for a second, straining to hear if anything, or anyone, might be outside. Finally he followed the others, who had begun to ascend the stairs. Khol's hooves clopped against the stone, though the scrapings of leather boot where much softer. It was not a second floor the stairs led to, but a raised part of the hall. Indeed, there were no balconies above them, giving the impression it was all one story. There were two doors opposite the main set, presumably to the two towers that watched over their camp within the courtyard.
Busco felt a writhing in his chest, an anxious presence that would not vanish. At the top of the stairs, the room continued, stretching towards another set of doors. More banners hung limply above. There was nothing here, except a sword buried into a plinth ahead of them.
“What is that?” Master Gybalt asked.
Sir Douglas frowned, his sword only slightly raised. He carefully walked towards it. It was a longsword, albeit a demented visage of one. Surrounding it on the floor, the stones were neatly arranged into a series of stacking circles, each with a different rune in an ancient language. Busco felt compelled to follow him, but Master Gybalt stayed him with a hand, fifteen feet or so away from it.
“Wait.” He said coolly.
Sir Douglas crouched as he appeared, not daring to touch it or the stone rings that enveloped themselves around it.
“Runes.” He said distastefully. “Stay away from it, don't even think about touching it.”
Busco gulped as he studied it. There was a malevolence to it, a forbidding warning that hung in the air. It appeared black at first, but the blade was red. It was coated in a strange material, almost organic, that dripped in furious spikes towards the hilt. Embedded within said hilt, was an orb. More than that, Busco saw, it was a clock. Within the orb were two stationary hands, a large red one, and a small black one.
“What is that?” Busco asked quietly.
“I don't know.” Master Gybalt said, taking a slow step towards Sir Douglas. “He's right though, keep away from it. We'll see if we can find anymore clues about it, but we don't know what kind of properties it may contain.”
“I don't like this.” Sir Douglas said, standing, his fist tightening around his sword.
“This is what we're here for, Sir Douglas.” Gybalt said calmly, walking past the knight and the sword, and towards the set of doors at the back. The room grew lighter as the sun revealed itself through the windows at the top. Busco reached his head upwards, and saw the timber supporting the old stones.
They're yellow on the outside, grey on the inside. What kind of place is this?
Master Gybalt pushed the doors open, revealing a spiralled staircase, and three sets of doors below.
“I'll take the stairs.” Master Gybalt said. “Busco, you can come with me. You two, take a look through these doors, see what you can find.”
The other three nodded, their conscious thoughts overriding anything they might think to say. Master Gybalt took the steps slowly, and Busco followed, his legs beginning to ache under the cumulative strain of the week's hiking. The more steps they traversed, the darker it got, and they reached the unseen second floor. Similarly, it had three doors, one left, one right, and one reaching to the back of the castle, the third spire.
Master Gybalt gave a curious look to his student, then set his eye on the middle door. He gestured with his head for Busco to follow, and the Nocterran steeled himself. Slowly, Gybalt pushed against the brass ring, and the door creaked in agony. Immediately, there was a thick, sour smell that hit them. Busco winced, pulling his sleeve over his nose and mouth. The air was heavy with dust, but a slither of light poured through a small circular window at the very top. His eyes began to adjust, as he saw he was within a study of some sort. To the sides were crooked bookshelves, stacked with scrolls and pages that toppled to the floor. Ahead of them, directly under the window, was a casket.
“Wait.” Master Gybalt said, ushering with his hand once again.
Gingerly he stepped forwards, his right hand raised and his body poised. It was made of an ornate stone, the same colour as the walls outside. It was carved with decals and various sentences in what seemed to be Universal, but the words were unclear. The stone lid was not on top, but to the side, askew. Busco took a careful step forwards, and even as he did, the smell intensified.
Master Gybalt leant in to see, and recoiled, looking sourly at Busco.
“You don't want to see.” He said.
Busco steeled himself, and nodded. With every second,t he smell grew more and more putrid.
“Who was he?”
“Let's try and see.” Master Gybalt said, leaning on the stone casket as he lowered his ageing knees, and began to read the hieroglyphics indented into stone.
Busco felt his legs moving, slowly, compelled towards the grave of the ancient dead. Master Gybalt gave him a quick warning look, but did not say anything. Slowly, Busco peered his head over. The casket was relatively cushioned along the sides, but they had begun to fray and decay. The body itself, was clad in chain-mail and a red and gold tunic. It was almost a skeleton, but tight brown, leathery skin still hung to it. On its head, was a silver circlet, with a gleaming pink jewel. Clasped tightly in its hands, was a dusty sword, and in the other, a decomposing book. Busco held a stare with the eyeless corpse as long as he could, but the smell drove him away. He stepped back coughing and gagging, as Master Gybalt shook his head.
“Did you see the book, Master?” He said in between wheezes.
“The what?”
“In his hands.” Busco said hoarsely. “There's a book inside.”
Master Gybalt stood slowly, and looked inside with a grimace. He looked back to Busco and then back to the corpse, rolling his sleeve up further. He reached in, and slowly took the book, whose fingers remained tightly wrapped around it. He gently shook them off, and Busco shuddered at the clatter of the skeletal bones falling back onto its chest. He studied it carefully, some pages threatening to fall out of it. It was a small book, leather-bound, and coated with dust. Master Gybalt carefully brushed the dust off of it, flipping it to the very front. He strained his eyes within the dim light, walking away from the casket as Busco watched carefully.
Gybalt began to mutter quietly, flicking through some old pages with ease, and others very delicately.
“What does it say?” Busco asked eagerly.
Master Gybalt slowly rolled his head in between his shoulders.
“This appears to be Lord Oster, of the line Morrow.” He said, looking back at the casket.
“And this is his castle?”
“One would assume, yes.” Master Gybalt replied, still straining to read.
“Is it all in Universal?”
“Mostly.” He said, moving the book back a bit before returning it in front of his eyes. “There are some words I don't understand, but I think I can get the just of most of it.”
“Does it say anything about the sword?”
Master Gybalt shook his head.
“We should get this back to the scribes at the academy. They'll go crazy for this.”
Busco smiled, though a thousand thoughts still presented themselves as knives within his forehead.
“Wait.” Master Gybalt said, reading one page, then turning to the one behind it again.
Busco watched patiently.
“The Sword of Seconds...?” He murmured with an alarmed look in his eyes.
“The one downstairs?” Busco asked quietly, but his master continued to read, and as he reached the end, he held it before him, contemplating the information he had just absorbed.
“'Tis the last days of Aerth.” Master Gybalt said, reading again. “'Let this be the lastest record of Oster, last of the line of Morrow. The tide of the Daem crash against our're doors. The Sword, devoted by the life of mine friend-'Ah, I can't read that bit. The hand-writing here is elclectic, shall we say. Let's skim this bit...'The Sword of Seconds, that terrible weap, the blade that should not be, I bid it to it's resting place beneath the halls of my fatherers. I take thee away from our fair Aerth, let this castle remain free from the touch of the Daem. I protect thee, and yet, my body fails. With my lastest breath, I take the Sword from mortal hands. Let no Daem touch it, let no man touch thee. With this, I save the Aerth. I will not be remembered.”
A silence fell upon them both, drifting debris floating between them. Busco frowned, trying to let the information sink in, but it strained itself within. Before he could open his mouth, he saw the fear build in his master's eyes. There was a creaking noise from within the castle, a groaning of stone and wood.
“We have to find Sir Douglas.” He said, clasping the book, and quickly pushing past Busco. “Now.”
The two moved past the door, and into the dark hall. Busco gave one last look to the casket and the long lost lord. Their boots hammered against the steps as Gybalt called out for the knight. They heard the shuffling from within one of the doors. Stumbling outwards, Khol ducked his head under the doorway.
“Master?” Khol asked, concerned.
“Where's Sir Douglas?” He asked quickly.
“Behind me.”
Master Gybalt needed only a second to comprehend, and moved towards the door in the hall, where the sword lay waiting. The grey light had returned, spilling itself into the empty hall.
Only, it wasn't empty. Standing before the Sword of Seconds, was Sareta Chebe.
“Sareta.” Busco breathed.
She was silent, staring as if in a trance.
“Stop!” Gybalt yelled, unveiling his bracelet once more.
She slowly reached her hand out, flinching at the sound of his voice. She looked up, confused and almost tearful. Her gaze went straight behind the hastening master mage, and straight into Busco's.
“Busco?” She said, little more than a whisper.
“Sareta.” Busco said, stepping forwards. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” She said, swallowing. “To make sure you were all okay.”
“We are. We're all okay-”
“Step back.” Master Gybalt called out harshly, his hand aimed towards her.
“Sareta, step away from the sword. Please.” Busco pleaded.
She did not take her eyes off of the sword. It captivated her in a way that was beyond dream-like.
“I stayed away this time. So no-one got hurt. Sir Aeinon told me I needed a weapon. I needed to protect myself, and everyone else. Never again.”
She took her eyes off of the sword, setting them deep into Busco's.
“I won't let it happen again.” She said, summoning all of her strength.
She wrapped her hand around the Sword of Seconds, and the screaming began.