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Chapter Thirteen Xellos would have rather enjoyed playing chess, he supposed, if he didn't find it so consistently easy and predictable. There were only so many moves one could make, limited even more by the opposition's character. And there was no real stake to it. They were simply inanimate pawns on a wooden board. But when it came to lesser beings -- lesser, sentient beings -- then things were different. All of creation was nothing more than a gigantic chess board, and the inhabitants therein were the pawns, the rooks, the knights, and the bishops. Every so often, he would encounter those worthy enough to be a king and queen. That was when the games began, and Filia was a marvelous queen. She held a power over him -- it was only a fool who did acknowledge potential threats to his position -- but he was confident in his ability to maneuver her over the board, so to speak. Valgaav was his king, and he simply had to ensure that events unfolded as he chose in order to properly checkmate him. Once he did, the queen would be his, and his alone. Filia fascinated him like nothing else had for a very long time. At first, he desired to kill her. Namagomi -- raw garbage? How dare that impudent whelp forget her place in the food chain? But as their time together increased, so did her appeal. He marveled over how she was able to goad him, to get under his skin like no one else. When they stood side by side to defeat that upstart, he wanted nothing more than to possesses her, body and soul, and make her his. Such a lovely Golden trophy, his queen. At first, he had been furious that Lord Beastmaster had rescinded her orders to destroy Valgaav, thereby preventing him from killing him outright. Although no longer a Mazoku, he was still a worthy foe as Ancient Dragons were the most powerful of the draconian race. But once the initial fury abated, he saw the potential in such a situation. It made the game that much more interesting, and a challenge indeed, to manipulate the two dragons with nothing more than his wit. Once he won, he would be the clear victor, as he did not have to resort to petty violence to remove the opposition. No, he wanted the opposition to remove itself, to bow out, to admit defeat. That did not mean that Xellos had any qualms against employing violent means should it become necessary for the manipulation of his little chess pieces, but no, he would not attack Valgaav. In fact, with the progression of time, watching the two of them growing closer and closer still, Xellos decided he would much rather leave the former Mazoku half-breed alive. Whatever came between Filia and Valgaav would be his own fault. Xellos would see to it. And he could live with the knowledge that all he lost was his own responsibility. In such an instance, death would be a release, not a punishment. Xellos had no intention of releasing him. It had been far too long since he had such a rousing game of chess. His powerful queen moved in whichever way he dictated for her, and it was only a matter of time before he would checkmate the king. Such a game was not won, however, from impetuous behavior or unclear thinking. He moved along silently, observing from the astral realm as he followed them to the marketplace. His dragon walked side by side, even hand in hand, with that interloper as they set about their business, and they smiled at one another. It was such a fetching picture, he supposed, and downright cloying, rather like the stench of decay. It galled him somewhat to see the former half-breed touching his belongings in such a familiar manner. No matter. He would pay for it eventually, and the interest rate would be a killer. Several plans were starting to formulate in his mind, but still, he stayed his hand. Nothing yet was clear enough to justify movement, and acting rashly could throw the game into their favor. He had to bide his time, and suffer the outrage of leaving her with that upstart just a while longer. He could do it, after all. Such was the way of a master of manipulation. Nothing was ever too high a price to pay for his victory, not when he was not the one who would ultimately pick up the bill. Valgaav's temper would be his undoing. From his observations, Xellos knew that his little dragon was frightened of him then. All the better. It was simply a matter of finding the right ways to provoke Valgaav into action, and to take such a course that his actions would drive Filia away, preferably straight into Xellos' own arms. It could be done. It would be a rather tricky coup d'éclat, given her own determination to loathe the very sound of his name, but not beyond the realms of being viable. And Valgaav, the dear lad, was being gracious enough to provide Xellos with potential. He had observed the dragon suffering from flashbacks and nightmares, and had fed on the rage and aggression which simmered just below the surface. It would only be a matter of time before it boiled over and exploded. If Filia happened to be in the way of such an explosion, all the better. As he watched them, Valgaav came to a halt in the middle of the market square and looked around, eyes narrowed slightly, scanning his surroundings as he drew Filia closer to his side. Xellos smiled darkly, sensing his emotions. So you know I'm here somewhere, watching you. Pity you can't see me, Valgaav. I can see you just fine, he thought. Xellos toyed with the notion of letting them perhaps catch a glimpse of his presence, but decided against it. Better to let the perceived threat remain obscure and uncertain. Filia was trying to get his attention, clearly asking what was the matter, and from the brief exchange they had, followed by Filia's eyes fearfully casting glances around the marketplace, Xellos supposed they spoke of his presence. Valgaav radiated aggression, and he was pleased. The dragon was beginning to learn his role, and soon, he would be acting out his part as expertly as Filia did hers. Once that was the case, then Xellos' triumph would be as good as a promise. "Valgaav, the windows and doors have not unbolted themselves since you last checked them ten minutes ago." He looked over to the fireplace, where Filia was sitting curled up on a chair, mending one of Jillas' shirts. "He was out there today, Filia. I know I felt him." Her blue eyes looked darker in the shadows as she watched him, her hands growing still. She had not sensed Xellos' nearness earlier that day, and she had said she believed him, but now... He wasn't so certain. "I'm not making this up, Filia," he said, and added, "nor am I crazy." Valgaav just wished he could be a little more certain on that last one. Sane people didn't see timeworn memories of murders long past as clear as day, vivid enough to touch, nor did they hear utterances and screams that had not been given voice in millennia. At least, he didn't think so. "I know that," Filia said patiently, watching him. "It's just...these precautions, they won't stop him, you know." "I know!" he snapped, and immediately regretted his harsh tone. "It just makes me feel like I'm actually doing something other than just sitting here waiting." Exasperated, he raked a hand through his hair. "Bet you tomorrow's profits that I'm doing exactly what he wants me to do, though." "Why don't you come sit down and relax, then?" Filia suggested. He hesitated, then flopped down on the couch with a sigh, covering his eyes with his forearm. "If I thought for even a moment that there was someplace I could take all of you that you'd be safe, that he couldn't get to you, we'd leave tonight." "I know." "There's spells and wards, but even those won't work for all time." He sat up again, elbows on his knees, restless. "I'd give almost anything to be a Mazoku again. At least then, I'd know for sure I could take him on." He saw Filia blanch slightly, and shook his head. "Don't worry. There's only one Mazoku lord I would have trusted that much, and he's dead now." "What was he like?" Filia asked softly. "Gaav?" He hesitated. "Keep in mind, he was still Mazoku. But even by those standards, to my opinion at least, he was the decent sort. I hated him at first, the first hundred years or so. Hated what I'd allowed myself to become, like it was betraying my people. And for that, I hated him." "What changed?" "I did, I guess. He was trapped in a form with a human soul, so, that gave him a different edge than most. He wasn't one of the good guys, but compared to the rest of the lot..." Valgaav trailed off and shrugged. "We were a lot alike. Neither of us were fully Mazoku in nature, and both of us were on the run. He from the other Mazoku lords, and I from..." He shuddered as he closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath. He wouldn't think about that, not them, not now. He wouldn't tell her that once the Golden dragons of her sect found out that he had survived after all, and was a Mazoku, they had tried to hunt him down. Filia was quiet; they both were. "So he was a good man to you, then?" she asked softly. Valgaav considered his answer, then nodded. "Yeah. He was." He hung his head, resting it in his hands as he recalled Gaav's face. He would have offered up almost anyone as a sacrifice to L-sama in exchange for getting him back again. Anyone but the three he lived with, Jillas, Gravos, and Filia. So many things would have been different, if he had not been killed. "I'm sorry he's gone," Filia said quietly. "Why?" "You obviously cared about him." He made a facial shrug, sighing heavily as he leaned back on the couch, suddenly feeling drained. "Just like everyone else." Filia put her sewing down and sat beside him on the couch. Valgaav slipped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek against it. "I'm not letting it happen again. Not so as long as I still breathe, if there's any way possible to stop it from happening again, I'm gonna do it." At first, she didn't speak, choosing instead to drape an arm over him in a tight half-hug. "We'll manage." "I wish we could stop just managing, and..." He sighed. "I don't know. Is it too much to ask for just a little peace? Apparently." Even to his own ears, his tone was bitter. Filia looked up at him, brushing an aqua lock out of his eyes. "Then, I suppose, if the world won't give us peace, we'll just have to figure out how to make our own." He smiled slightly at that, kissing her softly. "But that can keep for tomorrow. It gets late." "That it does." She laid her head on his shoulder, obviously in no hurry to stand. "Are you turning in?" "In a while. I keep first watch." "I feel guilty, that I sleep through the night while the rest of you don't." "No reason to be. It kind of defeats the purpose if the one to be guarded is the only one awake." "Hopefully he'll grow bored and leave us alone. Or maybe he'll get to be too busy with another task." "Hopefully." "Good night, Valgaav." "Rest well, Filia." He quirked a small smile as she remained seated, her head laying against his shoulder. "Are you going to bed?" "I probably should." She nuzzled his shoulder. "But the fire's warm, and so are you. I'll get up. Just, give me a push to get me moving?" He chuckled, turning his head to look down at her. "If you want, you can stay out here. I'll take the floor or the chair." "Couldn't do that to you." With some degree of effort, she pushed herself back up into a sitting position, moving her feet onto the floor. "I'm not done with Jillas' shirt." "I'll take care of it." "You can sew?" Her expression was dubious as she looked to him. "What? You don't think I can?" "Well..." "I can figure it out. It'll give me something to do besides stalk around and drive myself mad." Filia smiled sleepily, standing up. He rested a hand against her back to help her steady herself. "If you really want to..." The rest of her words were obscured by a yawn. "Funny how sitting still for a few minutes makes you realize how tired you are. Good night, Valgaav." "Good night, Filia." Val veered to the south as he drew closer to the temple, dodging a blast from an attacking Golden as he drew in a deep breath, preparing himself to launch one of his own as another flew into his path. The ultrasonic screech that was his breath weapon hit true, and the Golden reeled, bleeding heavily from massive internal hemorrhaging as it plummeted to the ground below. Jatlini clung to him the best he could as Val held his younger brother securely to his chest, thankful now that Jatlini hadn't transformed. Barely older than a hatchling, his brother would never have been able to keep up with Val, let alone dodge the attacks. Diving closer to the ground as he neared the hatchery, the first thing he noticed was that the outer wall had been ripped away. Growling at the intrusion, not wanting to think of what the Goldens would do to the eggs, he landed, setting Jatlini down. "Go hide over there," he ordered, pointing to a pile of rubble with his talon. "I'm supposed to stay with you!" Val forced his brother to let go of his arm. "You can't. Not now. I don't know if there's anyone in there, or what it's like in there. If it's safe, I'll come get you, I promise. Now get over there and hide before anyone sees us!" He lingered for a few moments, watching the skies and their surroundings warily, waiting until he was sure Jatlini was hidden. His heart pounding, he stepped over the rubble of the destroyed outer wall, hoping that the interior of the hatchery hadn't yet been breached. The way down into the deeper areas of the hatchery was confusing, and deliberately so, all the better to keep the eggs hidden and secure. He hesitated, uncertain of where to go. Only female dragons were allowed past the outer walls, but at this juncture, he really didn't care about the rules. There was too much commotion going on outside for him to hear anything further within the hatchery, and he decided to just pick a hall and see how far it took him. Val didn't have to travel a significant distance before encountering his first gristly indication that he was very likely heading the right way. Gritting his teeth, he turned his gaze from the humanoid Ancient skewered face-first to the wall. An attack from behind. Bastards... He didn't know what he'd do if Caitarina was dead. It wasn't an option. It just wasn't. She'd be okay. He'd get to her in time. Picking up his pace, Val ran down the corridors, following the indicators of blood, death, and other signs of destruction that periodically informed him he was on the right track. He was close enough now that he could hear fighting. That was good. Fighting meant there were still Ancients alive in there. Shifting down to his humanoid form, he slowed down and cautiously peeked around the corner, holding his breath, hoping his heart wasn't as loud as it felt, pounding in his chest. There were five of them, four in humanoid bodies, one still a dragon, battering away at the door. From the looks of things, he doubted it would hold out much longer. There had to be another way in, and if there was another way in, there was a way for them to get out. No, they wouldn't leave. Not if they couldn't take the eggs. He wouldn't leave them to be captured or destroyed by the Goldens. No, he'd find a way in, and help whoever was left inside protect them. Jatlini crossed his mind and he hesitated, wondering if he should go back for his younger brother. No, if Jat stayed hidden like he was told, he'd be safer out there than he would be in the hatchery with Val. Inching back from the corner, he started to look for an alternate route, either a back way in, or maybe some ventilation shafts large enough for him to crawl through. As he walked around a corner, his heart leapt into his throat and he jumped back, biting his lip, hoping the two Golden sentries, patrolling the halls in humanoid form, hadn't heard or seen him. When nothing happened after several seconds, he cautiously peeked around the corner again. They were further down, and still had yet to turn around. A crazy plan came to mind and before he could talk himself out of it, he started stalking up behind them, the adrenaline making him feel slightly lightheaded. It was hard, keeping a balance between moving too slowly, and staying silent. A few feet away, he suddenly shifted into his dragon form as the guards spun around, and attacked before they could do likewise. He slapped his paw into one of them, cuffing the sentry upside the head with enough force that his head ripped from his shoulders. At the same time, he snapped his jaws over the head of the second guard, giving him a quick shake, and felt a pop as the guard's neck broke. Spitting out the body, he looked around, growling low as his tail twitched in nervous agitation. When he looked back to the bodies and shifted into his humanoid form, he felt ill. As he relieved the guards of their weapons, he noticed his hands were trembling uncontrollably, and pressed them to his mouth as he tried to quell the nervous sickness. Crouching down, Val squeezed his eyes shut tightly, repeating over and over to himself like a mantra that it would have either have been them, or him, trying not to think about the fact that he'd just taken a life, two lives. He'd attacked Goldens outside on the way there, but he never actually saw them die. He'd just taken two lives by his own hand. Feeling suddenly furious at himself for being affected, Val gasped in a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his eyes roughly. The Goldens were trying to kill them. It didn't matter. Their lives weren't worth anything. He had to believe that. No, he couldn't. It would mean he wasn't any better than them. He had to kill them. There wasn't any choice. The Goldens weren't leaving them any choice. The shrill scream of a female snapped him out of it, and he was already breaking into a run as he stood, weapons in hand. As he reached the doors again, he saw that the Goldens had succeeded in breaking through, and there were more of them now. It was too crowded to change into his dragon form, so he merely dove into the melee, swinging one of the stolen halberds at a Golden, screaming. They weren't expecting an attack from the rear, and he managed to take down two before they diverted some of their strength to driving him back. Or at least, that was what they were trying to do. They weren't the ones defending their home, nor were they driven by adrenaline-fueled rage. Between the Ancients defending the eggs within the hatchery, and his unexpected attack on their flank, he was able to make it closer to the doors. A few of the Goldens managed to fight their way into the inner rooms, and roars shook the walls, cracking the masonry as ultrasonic energies impacted. Then the wall beside him caved in, the ceiling crumbling, as a dragon crashed through it from within. He just had to glimpse the dark fur to know it was an Ancient as he quickly dove out of the way, slamming the halberd into a Golden, knocking the unfortunate guard into the rubble's path. Val spared a glance over his shoulder at the destruction behind him to get his bearings, then froze. "Caitarina!" Valgaav fought off the blankets, sitting up quickly, trembling from the nightmare. Running his hands through his hair as he hung his head, he found it sweat-soaked and damp, as were his clothes. He swallowed hard, pressing his hands over his mouth as he stared at the low embers in the fireplace, trying to steady his nerves. He hadn't needed sleep as a Mazoku, once his mind and body adapted to it. He could sleep, but it wasn't required. Now that it was... Why did they have to come back to haunt him? They were dead. Remembering them wouldn't change a damned thing. "Lord Valgaav?" Gravos asked quietly from the doorway. "I'm all right, Gravos." Valgaav stood, drawing in a deep breath. He tried not to shiver as the cold sweat coating him began to evaporate. "How's it been tonight?" "Quiet." "What time is it anyway?" "Third hour. I just started my watch. Want me to make you some tea or something?" "I'm all right. I'm not sure if I'll be staying up or not." After stepping outside to splash cold well water on his face, washing off the sweat, trying to wash away the dreams, Valgaav started to return to the living room to attempt sleep again, but hesitated in the hall. Changing course, he walked to Filia's door, opening it silently, stepping into her room. He had to see her with his own eyes, to know she was safe, alive, and well. Filia was sleeping soundly, one arm over her pillow, one under it, hugging it to her as she curled around the pillow slightly. He hadn't been able to protect anyone else he'd cared about. Not his parents, not his siblings, not Caitarina, not Gaav. That was going to change with Filia. It had to. Gently, he brushed her hair away from her face, gazing at her peaceful expression, and she stirred slightly, nuzzling her pillow, still lost in dreams. Valgaav watched her sleeping for a few minutes longer before quietly slipping out of her room. |
to be continued...
Chapter Fourteen