"Y'really think y'can take a slinker, Captain?" Zarilyna asked in astonishment.
Flikk nodded absently as he folded his wings back along his side and swept his gaze over the cleared space between Akelara and the forest. Supposedly, there had been sightings of one in this area, hence Zarilyna's watch.
"Capt'n Vikktor, get that hairbrained partner of yers off these walls," he heard Zarilyna hiss in protest as Vikktor landed on the wall between them. "He's gunna get that pretty little hide a'his torn t'shreds."
"Have some faith," Vikktor muttered back.
"Hard t'have faith when th'last time I saw you, he fell flat on his muzzle every time he took a step."
A flash of movement distracted his attention from the two bickering mercenaries, and he focused his gaze on that area, waiting. His body stilled into motionlessness. Even the near-constant ripple of lightning down his nerves settled, poised, waiting.
There, again.
That was all he needed. With a heave, he launched himself from the wall and snapped his wings open. The world crystallized, information coming hard and fast into his mind - branches swaying, unimportant, wind; rustle of leaves, unimportant, small animal; flutter of wings, semi-important, birds escaping. He turned his attention to where the birds had risen from, caught a flash of steel-gray hide, altered his course through the air.
Behind him, he heard Zarilyna yelp and Vikktor curse, both of them scrambling to follow him. They wouldn't arrive in time.
They really are fast, Flikk thought absently, as he pulled his wings close to his side and crashed through the tree cover, branches and twigs clawing at his hide as he passed. The creature below him looked up in surprise, moving at what seemed a normal speed, even with the battlemind washing away time.
It reared up to meet him, sunlight shining dully off its matte hide and reflecting brilliant rainbows off the dark crystal on its forehead. With a flick of his tail and a small shift in his wings, Flikk altered his fall at the last second, to come crashing down on the creature's back.
A shriek of anguish filled the air as Flikk clamped his jaws around the back of the creature's neck and heaved upwards with all his strength. Bones grated under his feet as he adjusted, freeing his right paw long enough to unsheath Amira and drag the blade across the creature's throat. Blood gushed out as he severed the artery, but he didn't let go, couldn't let go, not if he wanted to remain safe. It thrashed and writhed despite the wound, claws scrabbling against the forest floor, jaws flexing in desire to bite. He heard the tail thrashing behind him, but paid it no mind... until, that is, the barbed tip dug into his back mere inches from his spine.
Flikk shuddered, but didn't let go. They didn't warn me about a tail-barb! part of his mind wailed, even as he acknowledged the pain, accepted it, shunted it to the side. He used his own tail to knock the barb out and away.
Later, he wouldn't be able to say what warned him, but his instincts suddenly screamed for him to move and, stunned by the sheer force of it, Flikk leapt blindly. Wings flaring as much as possible in the confined space, he spun about on his hind legs as soon as he landed and opened his jaws, a stream of blue lightning pouring forth.
The lightning danced across the coppery-colored hide of a second one, discharging harmlessly into the air as the creature shook itself. A small part of him noted that blue was slowly creeping in the darkness of the crystal on this beast's forehead, like dye swirling into water.
Flikk didn't get more than that brief moment to contemplate it. It coiled its body atop the corpse of its partner and leapt after him, claws trailing droplets of blood and something that Flikk took to be venom. He didn't want to find out.
He ducked behind a tree and danced out the other side, blade extended to score along the creature's prominent ribs as it passed by through the air. It whipped its head around and he jerked back, deadly teeth snapping closed over the spot his paw had been moments before. On three legs, using his wings and tail to counterbalance, Flikk ducked and danced through the tree cover, fighting a running battle.
The sword was slowing him down. The effort of keeping himself balanced on one front leg was exhausting, and his left foreleg was beginning to ache. Claws reached for him from the left and he tried to pivot out of the way, already knowing he was too late. The tips sunk into his hide just behind his ribs, and Flikk could feel the paw flex, driving the claws deeper even as his motion pulled him out of range at last, four jagged lines of pain flaring along his side. He sent another blast of lightning in the creature's direction, the smell of scorched wood reaching his nostrils moments later.
Can't fight like that here, might set the forest on fire, Flikk realized. Need to fight smarter. Can't rely on Vikktor being able to keep up. He'd caught glimpses of Vikktor trying to get in position, but every time he did, the creature dodged in an unexpected direction, throwing Vikktor off again.
Awkwardly, he transferred the sword from his paw to his tail, coiling the tip tightly about the hilt, and set his right paw back on the ground. Coordination would be a problem, and perhaps all he had achieved was to free up his paw, but something was better than nothing. You have claws, just like it. Use them.
A flash of copper out of the corner of his eye sent Flikk crow-hopping to one side, the creature soaring past him. For one brief moment their eyes met, sky blue to poison green, bare inches between the tips of their muzzles. It was like staring into a vat of boiling oil, all swirling heat and shimmering rainbows skating across the surface. Time froze.
It was intelligent. It knew, and its eyes laughed at his growing exhaustion. It would enjoy telling its master of the bright blue one, who slew one of their number and was destroyed in turn. It gloated in the knowledge of its victory, at its coming promotion, and it wanted him to know.
The moment shattered. Time started again. It lashed its tail and Flikk reared back, away from the lethal barb. The barb passed in front of his muzzle, and instincts kicked in. He bit, just below the barb, and pulled, feeling bones grate against his teeth. Tendons parted under his teeth, ligaments snapped as he worried at it, trying to sever tip from tail.
It howled in rage and practically doubled back upon itself, lunging for Flikk's side.
Shit! Bad decision! Flikk released the tail and jerked backwards, his own tail lashing out in reaction. His tail slammed into the creature's neck, jerking its head violently to the side. Luck caused Amira to whip through the air and cut a bloody line across the creature's face.
They collided and went tumbling to the forest floor in a tangle of limbs and teeth and claws. In desperation, Flikk latched onto the underside of the creature's neck before it could recover from the blow. His claws bit into the flesh of its neck and tore through muscle, clipping bone. It retaliated by sinking its front claws deep into his chest and pulling him close, hind legs coming up to rip into his vulnerable stomach.
He writhed, feeling the first blow cut deep gouges into his flesh, and clamped his jaws down harder. Flikk struck with his tail, tried to angle the blows by feel alone to bring his sword into play, felt the creature shiver in agony as the sword laid open its side.
Suddenly, it was ripped away from him, blood pouring into his mouth as the motion caused him to rip its throat open. He spat out the chunk of flesh and scrambled awkwardly to his feet, trying to discern what had happened.
It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. Vikktor stood over the crumpled body of the creature, his claws hooked deep within its bony chest, the flesh around the wound burnt and blackened from his aura. He'd finally caught up.
"Damn, sorry Flikk." Vikktor growled, as he turned his attention from the beast and to Flikk. "Didn't mean to let it work you over like that."
Flikk just grunted and glanced around, eyeing the torn up ground and spilt blood. His mouth tasted brakish, and he spat again, trying to rid himself of the taste of its blood.
"Here, come one, we're not too far from Akelara," Vikktor moved up to his uninjured side, and carefully pressed against Flikk's side, offering his support.
Flikk felt a tired, wry smile curl the corners of his mouth, then started limping slowly in the direction that Vikktor had indicated, leaning heavily against his partner. With the adrenaline slowly draining from his body, his limbs were becoming heavy, and a small voice of panic was starting to uncurl from the back of his mind.
By the time Zarilyna and Haart met up with them, Flikk was shaking in reaction.
You leapt from a wall taller than the highest point of any castle you've ever stormed! the little voice screamed. You bit both of those creatures! You ripped one's throat out with your teeth!
Haart bit back a curse and hurried to Flikk's side, the glow of magic already gathering about him.
"Tolja y'd get torn to shreds!" Zarilyna scolded. "Didja even get one?"
"Two," Flikk said softly, trying not to remember the feel of flesh giving way under his teeth, of blood flooding his mouth. "Steel-gray and copper. Back there. You didn't warn me about the tail barb."
He had the dubious pleasure of watching Zarilyna's eyes completely dialate in shock.
"We didn't think... damn, two? Th'bastards're huntin' in pairs now?" Zarilyna muttered as she gave him another once over. "An'... never said anything, cause they never used 'em. Didn't think about it."
Flikk shook his head. He wanted back in the Clan, wanted his bed, wanted rest. Haart's spells rippled through his body, knitting flesh back together and pushing venom from his system, leaving him more exhausted than seconds before. He hated healing spells, hated the way they itched and wriggled under his skin, hated the way they drained his energy.
"Don't worry about it," Flikk mouthed the words, too tired to put conviction into them.
"Zarilyna, get some of the boys to drag those corpses in. I want everyone to get a good look at what we're fighting," Vikktor ordered. "Maybe the damn Myrsilk can tell us what these things are, then."
"Yessir," Zarilyna responded. She turned around and launched herself into the air, taking the quickest way into the Clan.
"Y'know, it always struck me. Why do flying creatures build a wall about their den?" Vikktor mused as he watched Zarilyna cross the wall.
Flikk shrugged, then winced as half-Healed wounds split open again and Haart growled a protest. "Things like those... creatures?"
"Human influence?" Haart added.
Flikk shook his head, "Humans didn't enter the equation until wall-building was well established in Myrsilk culture."
"Well, then, racial memory of some past enemy. Maybe an egg-stealer," Haart replied after a moment of thought.
"Guess we'll never know," Vikktor said with a sigh.
"It doesn't really matter, you know," Flikk reminded Vikktor. "At the very least, it keeps ground-bound creatures restricted to certain entrance points."
He could tell that answer didn't satisfy Vikktor. The man was always curious about why, especially when contradictions appeared. The question had probably been gnawing at Vikktor's mind ever since they first came to Akelara, four years ago.
"There, you'll hold together, Captain." Haart finally ceased his casting and settled back on his haunches. "Try not to get ripped apart in the next few days."
Flikk nodded, noting once more the gray cast to Haart's hide. "You should get rest too."
Haart grimaced, then shrugged, "I'll try, but..."
"Akelara has healers as well, do they not?"
Reluctantly, Haart nodded, "Yes."
"Then we'll use them for a while," Flikk said with finality. "I will not have our only Healer kill himself."
Vikktor suddenly chuckled, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "You want the Myrsilk to see."
"I want the Myrsilk to understand," Flikk muttered as they began walking again, "But that's as unlikely as getting them to care about mercenaries."
"Kerkael isn't bad," Haart broke in.
It took Flikk a moment to connect the name to a face. He'd only dealt with Kerkael and Selverat a few times, but he had to admit, Haart was right. They weren't bad sorts, for a Myrsilk and his former Knight bond.
"He's our intermediary, now," Haart added, "Essryl finally got too annoyed with Kinai, most of the others were worthless, and Revent was getting annoyed with us constantly coming to him with our complaints."
Kerkael and Selverat were their intermediaries now? Flikk vaguely recalled that those two had plenty of other duties assigned to them. "How's it working?"
Haart didn't answer as they waited for the small door in the Clan gate to open for them. He was silent through the whole trek across the green, then through the halls to their barracks. Flikk was beginning to worry that even Kerkael and Selverat weren't capable of working with them, long term.
Finally, Haart spoke, a bit of smile in his voice, "Take a look for yourself."
The wash of noise that swept over him as Haart shoved the door open was wonderfully, deafeningly familiar. All had been serious when he and Vikktor had returned, tension leading to sparks of anger that would flare into brief brawls before dying back again. The company had been on the verge of shattering.
It wasn't now, though. As he and Vikktor stepped in together, still in their dragon forms, the company rose from their seats, a cheer ripping from their throats. Flikk ducked his head, acknowledging the excitement, then settled on his haunches to look the company over.
To his surprise, Selverat was standing there as well, a tankard of ale in his left hand, a relieved smile on his face. He set the tankard down on the table and hurried over, weaving through the boistrous mercenaries. To Flikk's bemusement, Selverat was included in the revelry. The poor man was slapped on the back, hugged, and generally shoved about so many times before he got to Flikk that it was astonishing he wasn't black and blue.
More astonishing yet, the man returned the attention just as readily.
"You're wasted on the knights and warriors," Flikk rumbled as Selverat finally made it to him.
Selverat laughed, clapping his hands together once then spreading them out to encompass the entire room. "So I've been told, Captain! Though I can see why few Myrsilk or their bonds can deal with you. They're a bit... stodgy compared to your crew."
"Just a bit," Flikk agreed. "Do you need something?"
Selverat ran his hand through his hair, a small, wry smile on his face as he answered, "An end to war, a pretty wench at my side, a peaceful retirement, and a good night's sleep."
Vikktor roared in laughter at Selverat's answer, and even Flikk had to chuckle a bit.
"How about that I can provide you?" Flikk shot back.
Selverat's expression turned serious. "What can you tell me about those creatures? Zarilyna told me you fought and killed two."
Flikk frowned and glanced at Vikktor, only to see Vikktor's expression troubled as well. The implications of Selverat's words weren't lost on either of them.
"Are you telling me," Flikk began cautiously, "That no one's been able to kill one?"
"I'm telling you that by the time we've managed to kill one, it's usually in so many pieces we can't tell what's what anymore," Selverat responded darkly. "The best way we've found to kill them is to throw as many conflicting spells at it as possible. They seem to absorb magic, and if you make it absorb, say, fire and water, it eventually... well... explodes."
"You make them explode." Flikk couldn't believe his ears. It sounded like some bad joke. Make something eat so much it explodes. Except... Selverat didn't seem to be joking.
"We make them explode," Selverat agreed. "It takes a lot, and the energy discharge can be deadly if you aren't prepared, but... we can't keep up with them, Captain. Some of us can't even keep track of them when they move."
Vikktor shook his head in disbelief. "Well, some of the boys are bringing the corpses back, so you can study them to your heart's content."
Selverat shivered and glanced away. "Not my heart's content. Kerkael gets the shivers any time these critters come up. I think most of the Myrsilk do, actually. Ultyn had a panic attack when he came face to face with one, went straight into the Void without a destination in mind. He's lucky he came out at all, much less in one piece. Nope, I'll take shadowbeasts any day."
Flikk's stomach felt like lead. The Myrsilk were that terrified of these creatures? Why? It wasn't like the creatures were of a size to really threaten them, and if just throwing magic at it could kill it, why were they terrified?
Why do they build walls? Why do they have Kouletti or Ayshur? Flikk thought. Why do they fear? What do they fear?
The answer was staring him straight in the face, and he could tell that Vikktor had made the same connection.
"Instincts," Vikktor whispered in awe. "The mighty fear their past."
"Eh? What was that?" Selverat asked, pulling his attention back to the two Captains.
Vikktor shook his head and grinned, "Just finding answers to life's little questions, don't mind us."
Flikk snorted in amusement, then slowly stood up and started making his way through the mass of mercenaries. Behind him, Flikk heard Vikktor saying a cheerful farewell to Selverat then move to catch back up. As soon as they were through the common room and into the hall that led to their private quarters, Flikk shifted back to his anthro form.
Vikktor caught him as his legs gave way and asked softly, "How're you holding up?"
"Bed," Flikk sighed, as he rested his head against Vikktor's shoulder. Here, where no one was watching, he could let his exhaustion show. Here, without witnesses, he could stop forcing himself, and just let the great lummox carry him through the hall and into his room.
The bed was sinfully soft, and Flikk gratefully burrowed into the blankets, his eyes sliding closed.
"Thanks, Vik," he breathed, sleep closing in.
The last thing he heard was Vikktor's soft chuckle, followed by, "Not a problem, Blue. Not a problem."
Knowing that these creatures were probably something out of the past and doing something about it were two completely different things, Flikk reflected. Sketches and sheets of notes covered the table in front of him and in front of both Zarilyna and Haart. Those mercenaries not on watch duty were also seated around them, passing around copies of what was scattered across the table and murmuring amongst themselves.
"So, did we get any useful information out of this?" Flikk finally asked, as he looked up from yet another incomprehensible anatomy sketch.
Zarilyna shook her head, an annoyed look on her face. Haart, however, tapped a claw on one of the sheets of notes.
"Albino Peace thinks she can give us immunity to the venom they have in their claws, and partial immunity to the poison in their fangs." Haart said.
"Good." Flikk replied with a shiver, "One taste of that venom was about the most I could take."
"Trust me," Kinai growled, rubbing at a new scar along his shoulder, "It don't get better the more y'do it. Just be glad Haart got his jollies in on me, that venom's like a nasty trip gone nastier."
Haart shot a glare at Kinai, then pointedly turned his attention back to the sheets in front of him.
"We know th' big-boys're terrified a'even th'sight of these critter's bodies," Seagahn spoke up. "When me'n Taisthen brought those things in, they cleared out right quick."
Flikk glanced at Taisthen and recieved a nod of agreement from the silent mercenary. "Alright, so we can't rely on the Myrsilk to help us with this. Everyone has their fears, and this is apparently a racial one for them."
"Kerkael and some of the guards weren't too bothered," Rohir's soft voice broke in.
"True," Seagahn admitted with a grunt. "Don't think they'd go outta their way t'fight one, but they'd stand an' fight if it came to it. Well, they have stood an' fought."
"Get me a list of those you'd trust at your back if it came down to it," Flikk ordered.
Seagahn gave a sloppy salute, "Yessir. C'mon Taisthen, Rohir, les git Captain his list."
As the three mercenaries left, Flikk glanced around the gathering again, searching for any other hint that someone had managed to pull something out of the incomprehensible sketches and notes. Haart was nodding to himself, calmly flicking between various anatomy sketches that had been provided, while Zarilyna was frowning in concentration as she read carefully through one of notes of information that had been gathered. The rest of the mercenaries were whispering amongst themselves, trying to make sense of things that referenced a completely different culture and mindset.
He wished them luck.
The door opening drew the attention of the mostly silent gathering, and Flikk sensed an air of relief at the distraction. Flikk echoed that relief, especially when he saw Vikktor walk in, dripping from the rain. His relief, however, was short lived, replaced by confusion as Vikktor chivvied a small, white furred feline into the room in front of him.
"C'mon, c'mon, you're not scared a'me, are you? We're not kids, we don't give a rat's ass what you look like," Vikktor was saying as he shooed the feline into the room and closed the door behind him. "There! Geez. Guys, this is Ansel. Ansel, meet the off duty Devyrs. Only one of import is the blue princess up there at the head of the table, that's Flikk."
Zarilyna snorted, and Flikk heard her mutter in amusemnt, "An' people call me insensitive?" before she shouted, "That better not be an opinion on our skills, Cap'n!"
"Course not!" Vikktor roared back, "Jes statin' the obvious, dearest."
Flikk sighed and rolled his eyes. Trust Vikktor to introduce him as a 'princess', and trust Zarilyna to start an insult war. Before it could go any further, Flikk rose to his feet and gestured Zarilyna to silence.
"Taking more lost children under your wing, Vikktor?" Flikk asked, as he studied Ansel out of the corner of his eye. The cat (boy?) was practically hiding behind Vikktor's legs, his eyes wild, looking for any route of escape. Time to nip this problem in the bud before it exploded in his face. "Kirada, could you take Ansel to the kitchen and see if he's hungry?"
"Of course, Captain," Kirada rose from her seat and glided across the room to kneel in front of Ansel. Whatever she said, it must have worked, for Ansel peeled himself away from Vikktor's legs and attached himself to Kirada as she left for the kitchen.
Vikktor, now free of his burr, crossed the room and tossed an arm over Flikk's shoulders, pulling him into a very wet hug. "Thanks for that. Didn't expect the kid to go so terrified at the sight of y'all."
Flikk shoved Vikktor away with an annoyed grunt and brushed futilely at his clothes. At least it was only water. "Where'd you find him? I didn't think the Clan had any little lost souls for you to adopt." He paused, another thought occurring to him, "How old is he anyway?"
"Some older kids decided, since they couldn't go outside, picking on the little shapeshifter was the order of the day," Vikktor growled. "They'd cornered him in an empty room and were starting to beat him up. And he's thirteen, if you must know."
Flikk scowled. He knew it was the nature of children, but he'd almost come to believe that here, at least, in such a mixed group with so few children, that sort of thing wouldn't happen. And thirteen? Dear heavens above, cat or not, the boy looks barely ten. Maybe because he was terrified?
"Don't worry about it," Vikktor said as he gave Flikk a playful shove. "I taught them a lesson."
"You realize you just made it harder for Ansel," Flikk responded coldly. One part of his approved of what Vikktor had done - he'd have intervened as well - but another part was cursing his partner for bringing Ansel here.
Vikktor shook his head and replied, "No harder than he has it already."
"Explain."
"He's a shifter who can't shift at will," Vikktor answered. "He's stuck as that cat during the day, and human at night."
Flikk winced at the thought. Stuck as a beast during the time when everyone was awake, only allowed to be human during the night... no wonder bored kids found him an easy target. "Fine, he can stay."
Vikktor pulled him into another enthusiastic, wet hug, "Thanks, sunshine! I'm going to go see how he's doing."
I wish he wouldn't do that, Flikk mentally grumbled as he turned to follow Vikktor, intent on changing his clothes and getting the bear some dry ones. And if his thoughts no longer had the heat to them that they'd had years ago, no one needed to know.
Ansel became a fixture around the base, tucked under a table, or in a corner, or (occasionally) on top of a table. His wariness with the mercenaries slowly evaporated as weeks turned into months and the mercenaries did what they did best. They accepted.
Flikk watched with amusement as Kjalmir, Seagahn, and Kinai attempted to teach Ansel the finer points of cheating at cards. The boy was wearing borrowed clothes, having forced a shift into his human form to play with the three mercenaries, and was currently fumbling the 'ace up the sleeve' trick. It was cute, especially since his first impression, that Ansel looked much younger than he was, had held up upon seeing the boy's human form.
"He's nice," Tajakith spoke up from his seat at Flikk's side, having followed Flikk's gaze. "A bit shy, but nice."
He hummed a wordless agreement and went back to eating. Kelthin had impressed on him the neccessity of eating more, because no matter how much the Clan trained, how many traps they devised, Flikk was still the only one capable of keeping up with the creatures, the 'slinkers', that Koshi Keidai had been plaguing them with. Over a year of constant battle and constant Healing was draining.
And even with all the Healing in the world, Flikk was beginning to feel the effects. Vikktor had even noticed, commenting about how skinny he was becoming, like a slinker himself.
'You're all tendons and bone, these days,' Vikktor had said, taking advantage of Flikk's distraction to run a hand over his ribs. 'Are you trying to out-do the slinkers?'
Flikk shivered again at the memory, still feeling Vikktor's warm hand gliding over his side. Why had Vikktor suddenly become more intent on touching him? It went beyond simply trying to get a rise out him, these days.
"Flikk?" Tajakith asked, distracting him from his thoughts.
"Just thinking."
Tajakith looked up at him, blue eyes probing. A hint of worry showed on his youthful face, coupled with a growing frustration at his inability to do anything meaningful in the fighting.
He's grown up hard and fast, Flikk thought with resignation. War is no place for children, but we keep involving them in it. I wish we could have just left him at the Abstract Destiny.
But they couldn't have, and Flikk knew that. Tajakith was his responsibility and, more importantly, Tajakith wouldn't have let them. He was bound and determined to be a Devyr, and that meant becoming part of the team.
"It's nothing important," Flikk attempted to reassure Tajakith. "I'm just thinking about Vikktor."
A flicker of amusement crossed Tajakith's face. "The man is becoming quite a mother-hen, isn't he?"
"Just a bit," Flikk agreed, exasperated. "I'm not about to disappear."
Tajakith looked like he wanted to disagree with that statement, but instead spoke with all seriousness, "You've been coming back more and more injured these past few weeks. We're all worried about you."
Flikk paused, frozen by Tajakith's words. Am I chasing death again? he wondered. I thought I'd... accepted her death. Suddenly, the food in front of him didn't look as appetizing, but he forced himself to continue eating. To not eat would be to confirm that he was indeed chasing death again, looking for an end to his life. That terrified him. His lack of conviction terrified him more. Was he, or wasn't he?
He couldn't eat any more. Not without throwing up.
If anything, the worry in Tajakith's eyes grew as Flikk shoved the plate away from him and stood.
"I need to rest," Flikk mumbled, waving away Tajakith's silent question. "You're right, I've been doing too much."
Before anyone else could protest, Flikk turned and walked back through the halls and to his room, restraining himself from running by force of will alone. A commander couldn't run. Not even when they wanted to with all their heart.
With the solid door between him and the rest, Flikk dared to relax his control. He tore off the ever-present cape and bandanna and tossed them over the back of a convenient chair as he crossed the room to his chest of effects. The hinges creaked as he pushed the lid open, dust drifting into the air as he dug through the things in it. A spare set of armor. His spare whetstone and polishing cloth. A few sets of clothes that were neither uniforms nor his standard attire.
Finally, he reached the bottom and pulled out the box he was after. Back in went the other things, carefully packed in place, before Flikk closed the lid of the chest, grabbed the box, and went to sit on his bed.
These hinges, at least, moved without protest, despite the years it had been since he'd last opened it. Almost reverently, Flikk lifted the items free.
Two pieces of stone, fragments of the tablets that had recorded the names of the great, both with his name and star engraved on them. The arguments, he recalled, had been long and hard - destroy the tablet, or leave it to stand testimony to their efforts. Neither Ranus nor Calon wanted their names known to all. They wanted a chance to finally be selfish, to do something solely for themselves, Flikk recalled. His fingers traced over the lettering.
He wondered if Vikktor had kept his.
He set the stones aside, pulled out the twisted remnants of the last skybreaker. Amira's pride and joy. The last thing she did. She'd never even seen them used, seen the sky shatter into a million deadly fragments of light, each falling to earth to strike friend and foe alike. A double-edged sword. The memory still made Flikk swallow against his dry throat, made a point on his right shoulder burn in remembered agony, made him glad the skybreakers were broken, the plans destroyed.
We'd not have won, but for these, Flikk reminded himself, as he set the skybreaker down. But I still wonder if we were right to do so. Kaedar was such a cold man, nothing like Amira. She wouldn't have used them again, after she saw what they did. He used them at every opportunity.
Flikk's hand hesitated over the frame with a collection of pressed flowers, tempted to just leave it be. Memories swam in those faded petals, memories of the cities he had secretly plucked them from, of nights he had spent carefully pressing and preserving them, away from Vikktor's prying eyes. Finally, with a decisive motion, he grabbed the frame and set it up on the dresser. Vikktor could say what he wanted.
Underneath the frame was what he had been after. Flikk pulled the hawk-shaped pendant free of its box and held it up, watching the way the sky blue stone at the center caught the light. Faded writing covered the back, but he didn't need to read it to know what it said.
Flikk, may you always fly free. Amira
Vikktor caught him like that, absorbed in memories, fingers tracing over faded writing.
"Damn," Vikktor muttered. "Flikk, yo, Blue-boy, you home?"
"Am I chasing her again?"
That shut Vikktor up like nothing else Flikk could have said. Flikk managed to tear his eyes away from the pendant to stare up at Vikktor, who was looking at the collection of items like one would look at a wasp.
"When did you get these back?" Vikktor finally asked.
He weighed his options. Say nothing and have Vikktor badger him about it, attempt to lie and possibly break Vikktor's trust, or tell the truth, sick as it was. The silence stretched between them, until something in Flikk finally broke and he looked away, saying, "When we first settled here and took the contract."
"Four years ago. And you didn't tell me."
"I don't need to tell you everything!" Flikk growled, rising to his feet and stalking towards his partner. "You're not my mother, to tell me what I can and cannot do!"
Vikktor didn't back down. "Why do you ask if you're chasing her again."
"Tajakith mentioned that they're getting worried. That I've been coming back more and more injured. Kelthin berated me for not eating enough. Selesst has ordered me to rest, not train." Flikk responded, stopping a few feet from Vikktor and tilting his head up to meet the other's gaze. "What does that remind you of?"
"It reminds me of times when you've been pushed past your limit," Vikktor growled. "Which you've done. Are you dreaming of her?"
He ran a hand through his hair, then slid his fingers partially up his golden horns. It grounded him, touching that too-obvious difference between this Flikk and that Flikk. Sometimes this life felt far too much like a dream.
"No."
A flicker of relief crossed Vikktor's face, and Flikk scowled in disgust and looked away. Was he that predictable?
Vikktor grabbed Flikk's chin and forced him to meet his gaze.
"Stop doubting yourself," Vikktor growled. "You're past your limit, and that's why you're questioning yourself right now. Some rest, some food, and you'll be back to your normal prissy self."
Flikk snarled and jerked his chin free of Vikktor's grasp, though his heart wasn't in the protest. Vikktor's reassurance was... welcome. If the other man said he wasn't purposely chasing death, then he wasn't, and that was that. He was just overworked.
But they both knew that wasn't likely to change.
Flikk flexed his hand, checking that he had full range of motion back again. The healing spells weren't sticking as well as they had even a month ago, and things that had taken minutes or hours to heal now took days. Kelthin had been worrying at him lately, begging him to allow for a rejuvenation spell to be cast, so that his body could get some rest from the constant Healing.
But that would put me out of action for weeks, maybe a month or more, Flikk thought as he stretched his hand out, feeling the slight pull of a muscle not fully healed. Though, with the way I'm going...
He knew what he looked like, saw the gazes and worried frowns. The newest recruit, Treya, another of Vikktor's charity cases, was constantly fussing over him, in her own quiet way. He'd been finding little finger foods set out in the kitchen at all hours, a constantly changing array of offerings, where things that he didn't eat were removed, and things he ate more of were made in higher quantity.
"Paint you silver and the slinkers'll think you're one of them," Tajakith joked as he came up to Flikk, flippant words masking worry.
Flikk glanced over, then had to remember to look up to meet Tajakith's eyes, still unaccustomed to the height that the boy had gained in his week-year away. He matured well, Flikk mused as he turned his attention back to his stretches. I don't think I'll ever get used to the time-difference between worlds, though.
He could feel Tajakith's gaze boring into his back. The boy had been taking his shifts for the past week, while he recovered from yet another fight. It felt... wrong, seeing Vikktor paired with Tajakith, like he was already a ghost, and life had just moved on without him. Even the other Devyrs were beginning to treat Tajakith as a third Captain, and talk was going around of creating a third division, the Shields, with Tajakith as their Captain.
"Vikktor told me what happened last night, at the Passing Gather," Tajakith broke the silence between them.
"Nothing happened," Flikk groused. Vikktor had already approached him about going along with Treya and Ansel, trying to convince him that they'd be better with him around.
"That's not how Vikktor made it sound. If I'm to believe him, you personally told Revent where to shove his precious little prejudices about Treya."
Heat spread through Flikk's cheeks, and he coughed to cover his embarrassment. Trust Vikktor to blow a little polite conversation out of porportion. "Vikktor wasn't there."
"Selverat agreed with Vikktor," Tajakith said, amusement clear in his voice. "As did three other Myrsilk that I talked to who were there. I know you're frustrated, but was calling the leader of the Clan a 'stodgy, ignorant ratfink' really called for?"
Flikk winced and licked his lips. So maybe I went a bit overboard near the end. Revent asked for it.
"For the record, Treya's ours," Tajakith said offhandedly. "And you should be laying presents at Selverat and Kerkael's feet."
"Can we not talk about this?" Flikk finally muttered.
"Oh, sure. What would you like to talk about? The fact that I could mistake you for a slinker with wings? The fact Kelthin is practically begging all of us to keep you off the field for as long as possible? What'll it be?"
He'd had enough. He spun on his heel and glared at Tajakith, making the boy step back involuntarily. Pressing his advantage, Flikk stalked forward, his wings partially flaring from under his cape. Tajakith retreated before him, surprise and unease on his expression.
"How about none of that," Flikk snarled. "I'm tired of hearing it. From Kelthin, from Vikktor, from you, from everyone. I'm tired of this... farce! I know what I look like! I know how I feel! Stop pitying me!"
Before Tajakith had a chance to respond, Flikk bolted, too furious to be glad that it was too early for anyone but him and Tajakith to be awake. All he could think of was get away, get away, get away.
He cleared the wall easily, ignoring the startled looks from the morning guards, and bolted into the trees, no destination in mind but away. In a rage, he ripped his claws through the bark of trees as he passed, growling deep in his throat.
::Calm down.:: a voice commanded in his mind.
And just like that, a wall slammed down between his rage and his rational mind. Flikk staggered under the force, then stared about wide-eyed, fear beginning to creep its way up his spine. Just what had he stumbled across in his rage?
::Good.:: The voice continued. ::I don't enjoy conversations with enraged beasts.::
"Show yourself," Flikk growled, gathering the shards of his confidence about himself.
The voice chuckled, ::As you wish.::
He felt his eyes grow wider yet as a white and black xeno-dragon fell from the trees, accompanied by a flurry of snow. Snaedis. He'd barrelled into Snaedis' territory.
::Oh, don't be so terrified of me,:: Snaedis growled as she 'looked' down at Flikk. ::What brings you out here, alone but for your rage?::
"My rage," Flikk rasped, a small smile on his lips.
Snaedis snorted and continued to 'stare' at him, as much as a creature with no eyes could stare. Flikk was of a mind that she could do it quite disturbingly well.
Haltingly, he began to tell her everything. The war, the slinkers, his growing frustration with the way he was being treated. Silence descended upon them when he finished, and he watched Snaedis with interest as she thought it all over.
::My hive can help.:: She eventually stated.
Flikk frowned, not sure he'd heard her right. The Myrsilk had been quite clear that Snaedis did nothing unless it assisted her in the long run.
"What do you want in return?" Flikk asked.
::Shelter for those of my hive who are injured in your defense.:: came her immediate reply.
That wouldn't be the easiest thing in the world, but Flikk figured he could always open the empty rooms in the barracks for the xenos, if it came to that. "Just that?"
She nodded, ::Just that. Koshi Keidai threatens my hive as well. I have no wish to become a follower, and we will be destroyed because of that.::
Now that made more sense.
"Done then. I'll tell the Clan to--"
He never managed to finish his thought. Everything seemed to happen at once - teeth sank deep into his side, lifting him into the air and shaking him like a ragdoll; Snaedis snarled and leapt towards him; flashes of other xenos appearing from the trees. Flikk felt himself go flying through the air, instinct making him stretch his wings out to stall out his tumble, but he slammed into a tree before he could do more than extend them.
Pain flared in his head and the world went dim.
Desperately, he tried to gather his wits about him, tried to struggle to his feet, but his head swam as he moved, and his side was one giant mass of pain. Flikk took a deep breath, felt his ribs shift, and immediately went still. He couldn't help in the fight.
Eventually, the sounds of conflict faded, and Snaedis swam into focus.
::I'm sorry, Flikk. This will hurt...::
What would hurt? What was she going to do to him?
He found out moments later, as she scooped him up as carefully as she could. A cry of pain tore from his throat.
Flikk blacked out.
The darkness was comforting. No pain to bother him, no duty to constantly intrude in his small moments of relaxation, no Vikktor to--
No Vikktor?
Flikk sat up abruptly, panting, feeling a sheet slip down his body, one clawed hand clenched over his heart. Where was he? Where was he?!
He wasn't in Akelara. The place didn't feel right, or sound right. He wasn't laying on a stone slab with a bit of padding atop it, but he was laying somewhere that reminded him of an infirmary. A proper infirmary, with beds and sheets and the crisp smell of cleanliness, not just the sharp tang of magic. There was no deep, rumbling voices off in the distance, and it was that lack, more than anything, that convinced him he wasn't anywhere he knew anymore.
Flikk put his head in his hands, trying desperately to remember how he could have gotten... wherever he was. He remembered talking with Snaedis and striking a deal of mutual protection with her, but then things got... blurry. Snaedis charging at him, jaws open in an enraged hiss. (Stars, did I do something to piss her off? Flikk wondered.) Her picking him up, flashes of pain, the Clan walls looming close. (A warning? 'Don't mess with me'? Is that why I'm not at Akelara, the entire Yulaiko Hive wants my blood?) Treya tugging at his arm, saying something he couldn't hear, Vikktor charging in, like the bear he was. (Did I just show up, mauled? No wonder they'd ship me off, if that's the case!)
But try as he might, he couldn't remember anything past Vikktor picking him up. Just darkness and some pain. How badly was I hurt? I can't tell, anymore, and that frightens me...
"You're up! Good, I was beginning to wonder if you'd never wake," a voice interrupted his thoughts.
Flikk scrambled off the other side of the bed and took a defensive stance. His wings trembled in weariness and his legs were threatening to give way, but he clenched his jaw and stared across the bed at the person who'd startled him.
He didn't need to ask to know that she wasn't human, no matter what she looked like. The soft yellow skin and silver hair gave her away, but was that truly surprising? He was blue with lightning streaks these days, who was he to judge anymore?
She made a calming gesture with her hands and stopped approaching, "I'm Isaida, and you're currently in the Bonding Complex at Sanctuary, on Avengaea."
"What do you mean, you were wondering if I'd ever wake up?" Flikk asked suspiciously.
"You were under a strangely built spell, one that I've never seen before," Isaida answered him, keeping her voice calm and level. "Your body was on the edge of canabalizing your muscles for energy to support both the spell and yourself."
Flikk shifted uneasily. Kelthin had warned him that he was getting close to running out of reserves, but he hadn't realized how close. But... if it was a strange spell, that meant it wasn't a healing spell like Kelthin or Haart normally used, so... "What sort of spell?"
"A type of rejuvenation spell, designed to draw from outside sources instead of from you for the majority of its power," Isaida said. She peered more closely at him, then shook her head, "Excuse me, it's still working. How could you have so many injuries?"
He gave a mirthless laugh, finally giving in to his weariness and slumping against the bed, putting his head down between his arms. "I'm a mercenary."
A rejuvenation spell. Kelthin had threatened to completely take him out of the action with one, and now it seemed like the man had done it. Though, if he had been unconscious, that meant Vikktor had had a hand in this as well! When he finally managed to get back, he was going to thrash Vikktor so hard...
Isaida came to his side and helped him up onto the bed, so that he could sit instead of trying to stand on unsteady legs. Her hands were as gentle as her voice, and she said, "There are two youths, who have insisted on staying here until you woke, instead of going to their rooms in the Bonding Complex. Would you like to see them?"
That had to be Ansel and Treya. Flikk gave a slight nod of acceptance, and Isaida left, giving him a few moments to himself as she went to fetch them. He used those moments to compose himself as best he could. Avengaea. A rejuvenation spell. How long was he to be trapped, away from his company and the duty he needed to perform? Tajakith wasn't entire capable of dealing with one of those things on his own. How many would die while he tried to recover?
Flikk jumped as Treya bolted into the room and threw her arms about him, clinging so tight he could feel his ribs protesting.
"Hey, hey, I'm alright," Flikk said as soothingly as he could.
"A week!" Treya mumbled into his neck, making Flikk blink in surprise, "You were unconscious for a week! And no one would say anything except 'we're doing all we can', and 'he's looking better'."
He had no way to answer that, so settled for just rubbing her back comfortingly.
::They wouldn't even let us see you, except for once a day,:: Ansel added, as he jumped up onto the foot of the bed and settled himself down. ::They made us go to classes and said to not worry.::
"Well, I'm awake now, so everything's alright, right?"
Treya merely clung tighter to him, as if she wasn't going to let go any time in the near future. Ansel rolled his eyes at the gesture, but Flikk noticed that Ansel had inched closer and set his head on Flikk's thigh. Flikk freed one hand from dealing with Treya and reached out to pet Ansel gently. Normally, the boy completely rejected such affections, saying that he wasn't a beast to be pacified by touch, but this time he leaned into Flikk's hand and gave a deep, rumbling purr.
"So, what are your classes like?" Flikk asked, figuring that was as safe a topic as any, and might serve to calm both of them down some.
::Aweful.:: Ansel answered wryly. ::They're only held during the day, so I can't take notes, and none of it's interesting enough to stick in my mind.::
"Ansel's a spoilsport," Treya muttered, unaware of Ansel's comment, "He keeps daydreaming and staring out any windows within range."
::I do not daydream!:: Ansel shot back. He lifted a paw and poked Treya in the side with it.
Treya giggled weakly, "I like it, though. So different from the learning that the Myrsilk insist on. And they don't look at me too strangely when I forget to do something society considers polite."
"Good, good. It sounds like you two have been doing just fine for yourselves," Flikk smiled down at the two. "So, now that I'm awake, will you two actually stay in the rooms you've been assigned? Isaida told me you insisted on staying here."
Treya nodded, "We will stay in the rooms we've been assigned. After all, you're our keeper."
"Let's not be too hasty, here," Isaida's voice drifted in as she came back in carrying a tray of food. "I'd like to keep Flikk around for maybe a day or two longer, to make sure he's feeling completely better."
"Awww, Isaida!" Treya lifted her head from Flikk's neck and gave the other her cutest puppy-dog eyes.
"No, and that's final, you little minx," Isaida said with a smile as she set the food down. "As for you, eat. Then we'll talk about what to do with you now that you've woken up."
Obediently, Flikk shifted Treya so that he could get at the tray and began to nibble on the food. He hadn't felt hungry until the scent of it reached his nose, but even that was nothing compared to how he felt when he began to actually eat. In no time, he had devoured the entire tray and was licking a finger to pick up the last few crumbs.
Treya, clearly, found this both amusing and heartening, because she slipped free of him with a little laugh and trotted off, to come back a moment later with another tray. She presenting it to him a little flourish that reminded him of Vikktor, and, like him, her size added an amusing touch to it, like a child playing at being a royal, intead of a hulking brute playing at being a noble.
Flikk accepted the tray with a small smile and began to eat it as well. This time, however, he managed to eat slower, tasting the food instead of simply bolting it down.
When Isaida came back to check up on him, she arched an eyebrow at the two empty trays, then gave a relieved smile. "Good! I was wondering if your appetite would be affected by the spell, but if it is, I see it's only for the better."
"You were afraid I wouldn't be able to eat?"
She shook her head, "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to eat enough. You're skin and bones, and that spell is still pulling at your strength, if slowly. I'd still like to keep you here for a day or two, to make sure, but I think you'll be able to move to the resident wing soon enough."
Flikk nodded, then finally got up the courage to ask, "How long will I be here?"
Isaida looked surprised at his question. "We're not keeping you here, outside of making sure you're actually alright. A day or two and you can make yourself at home in a real room, and I can get those two cute little worrywarts out of my hair."
"I mean on Avengaea."
If anything, her eyesbrows tried to climb into her hair. Clearly, she hadn't expected him to ask about that, either. "As I said, we're not holding you here. I had gotten the impression, however, that you were to be caretaker of those two, and they're up for bonding. If they bond, they could be here for years if they felt like it, though I assure you that, as a school, we're accustomed to handling youths of all ages."
Flikk shifted uncomfortably. How to deal with this? He doubted Akelara would allow him back immediately, especially if the rejuvenation spell was still working. And maybe... maybe he did need the rest. Seven years of war, of being on the front lines when he was supposed to be commanding, was tiring.
Eventually, he just sighed and shook his head. It was too much to deal with right now. He'd focus on getting his strength back, and then think about his options, and hope that nothing terrible happened while he was out of the fray.
"I guess I'll just have to deal with it, then," Flikk said wryly. "Thank you, Isaida."
"Of course. Just call if you need something. If I'm not around, someone else will be, and they'll take care of you." Isaida flashed him a smile, then looked at Ansel and Treya, "As for you, try not to tire him out too much, and make sure to get to your next class on time."
"Yes, Isaida," Treya said in exasperation, echoed by Ansel's similar mental comment and great sigh.
Flikk couldn't help but chuckle at their reactions. He reached out and ruffled Ansel's mane, then did similar to Treya, despite both of their protests. "So, tell me what it's like here. I might as well know what I've been gotten into, hey?"
Laying back against the headboard of the bed, he grinned as he listened to the combined mental and verbal wash of words, as both babbled out everything they could about the Bonding Complex and Avengaea itself.
He hadn't agreed to this, but he might as well enjoy it while he had it.