Greetings!
Boy, this one took me forever, didn't it? I wish I could say that the next
one will be faster, but things have been piling up in RL. If I don't deal
with them soon, they will fall on top of me, and I could hurt my typing
hand. ^_^
Anyway, we all know what comes next, right? This is where I throw away my
last shreds of dignity and downright PLEAD for C&C. Trust me, if I have to
pick between self-respect and getting a response from you people, my
self-respect goes out the window. It's fun, and easy! Just click that
"Reply" button, or copy my address from the "Cc:" line of this very message.
Why, I even mention my e-mail address in the opening of the fic itself. It's
not just there to take up space, people : drop me a line!
<whew!> Anyway, now that that ugly bit of business is over with, I'd
better tell you all where to find earlier chapters of my fic. 'Cause if I
don't, Latin D will yell at me. ^_^
Anyway, my fic is located at
http://dataraven_659.tripod.com/roninsummer.html
and at
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Underworld/4709/roninsummer1.html
And I WILL put Dark Crusade up there, some day. Until I do, you'll have to
ask for them from me personally, or go to Crossover Corner,
which is at http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/Shores/5533/index.html
(thanks Joy! ^_^). It's even got a bunch of other really wonderful crossover
stories of all shapes and sizes. ^_~
Now, all that is aside and over with, so let's get on with the story!
_______________________________________________________
Say Bye to Slow Internet!
http://www.home.com/xinbox/signup.html
-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
OBLIGATORY LEGAL DISCLAIMER : Some of these guys aren't mine. The
Sailor Senshi belong to DIC and Kodansha, while the Yoroiden are owned
by Sunrise and Graz Entertainment. Okay? So don't bother suing me. I'm
a student.
RONIN SUMMER : DARK CRUSADE
A Sailor Moon / Yoroiden Samurai Troopers cross-over
by Morgan Hudson (dataraven_659@excite.com)
Chapter Seven : A Brief Calm
Kujuurou Sasaki stared at his reflection. It was not an ugly
face, in fact a face that many might have called handsome. He wasn't
a bishounen, by any stretch of the imagination, but his rugged
features were far from unpleasant. A scar in the shape of a cross
graced his left cheek, nearly bisecting his eye, but its mark had been
on him for so long that he usually didn't even notice it. His eyes
were green, and had that same strange, piercing quality shared in the
gaze of all Masho. Perhaps, he reflected, it was part of having served
Arago, and surrendered their souls to the Demon Lord for so long.
Perhaps it was just the result of four hundred and fifty long, hard
years.
He was not a vain man, and it had literally been years since
he bothered examining his own features. Why bother, when he was
ageless? His reflection, now that he had met it once again, was no
different than it had been five years ago. Or fifty years ago, for
that matter. This was different, however. He was meeting his Empress
again, and even before she had proposed to him, that had always been
a reason to shine his claws.
He exhaled, and the fog of his breath distorted the man staring
back at him from the surface of the blade. The ragged edge of his torn
cape served well enough as a cloth, the silken fabric gliding over the
almost slippery metal of the claw. It was usually one of three, locked
into the armoured end of his metal gauntlet and each the length of a
small sword. At the moment, it was one of two, the middle blade having
been snapped off at its mid-point. That fact alone would have
distressed Kujuurou Sasaki, were he the kind of man to got distressed.
The man most called Anubis knew he was not. He had always been
the kind of man who got angry, instead. And, he thought with a wolfish
smile as he slipped through the shadows of the forest, at least he had
held his own against his opponent, and the other half of that claw was
currently lodged in the man's right kidney. His armour would return to
him whole and unmarred, when next he called it, but that pain should
stay with Thraw for some days yet to come.
Thraw had been a big man, and even tougher than he had looked.
Anubis made a note of that for next time, and began planning ways to
make the big man more his size. Perhaps it was the wolf in him, but
he had always been fond of hamstrings... one strike was all it took
to end a fight, if that strike was well-placed and well-timed, and it
would leave the prey alive. Not that he intended that as a mercy.
Anubis smiled again. Quite the opposite, actually.
The last bushes parted, and he hung in their shadows for a
moment, savouring the presence of his Empress. Her perfume, even from
across the clearing, tantalised his sensitive nose and filled with a
sense of calm. Lilacs, he reflected, with a slight hint of honeysuckle,
blending with a scent that was uniquely her own and had nothing to do
with perfume. There was a trace of fear in that scent, he noted, and,
in case it was for him, he decided he had waited long enough. His
invisibility dropped from him like an old cloak he had grown weary of,
and he took the last step into the clearing.
Kayura lunged across the space between them with a speed and
surety even he would have been hard pressed to match, and latched onto
him as if their armour had become magnetised. He stumbled back ever
so slightly, then wrapped his arms around her. Kayura buried her head
between the curved blades on his chestplate and tightened her grip
around his waist.
"Go ahead," Kayura mumbled into his chest, "say it and get it
over with, Kujuurou Sasaki. You know you want to. I messed up."
Inwardly, she sighed. Anubis was always bothering her about being too
careless, warning her that she took too many risks, and then she had
gone and proven him right on every single count. This was going to be
the lecture to end all lectures, and if she had to receive an official
brow-beating in front of her own people, she wanted it over as soon as
possible.
"Welcome back," he said gruffly, and released her. Turning to
his left, he stared at the upside-down helmet of Jirougorou Kuroda.
The head within the helmet was also upside-down, which made sense,
as the man in question was hanging from a tree branch by his feet.
"Congratulations, Rajura. Your plan went off without a hitch."
"Of course it did." The Masho of Deception almost looked
confused for a moment, his one blue eye widening slightly. "You mean,"
he asked in an exaggerated tone of shock, "you actually thought it
might not?"
"It was a wonderful plan," Kayura admitted, then levelled a
somewhat less than friendly glare in Rajura's direction. "I was
especially surprised," she said coldly, "to learn that I had managed
to call in my blood marker on Setsuna Meioh without even being present
or aware."
Rajura shrugged. "It is amazing," he said evasively, "the
conclusions some people reach when given incomplete information. I
merely reminded her that the debt existed, and said that you were
in trouble. Our dear pet Setsuna knew full well I had no power over
that marker. Whatever assumptions she decided to reach are her own
problem."
"My God," Haruka Ten'ou said, as she and her two team-mates
entered the clearing. "Is there ANY blood left in your ice water, or
did you just switch over completely?" Standing slightly behind the
tall blonde Senshi, Michiru Kaioh nodded and placed her hands of the
shoulders of Hotaru Tomoe, who was currently an exact double of Empress
Kayura. The trio had arrived just barely in time to hear the last of
what Rajura had to say, and clearly didn't like it.
"Setsuna," Rajura called into the underbrush, "your little
dog is yapping at me. I suggest you muzzle her, before I am forced to
put her to heel."
Dressed in the black and white fuku of Sailor Pluto, Setsuna
Meioh stepped gracefully into the clearing. The filtered sunlight of
midday cut through the omnipresent shade of the tree canopy in shafts,
some of which caught and reflected from the golden tiara she wore.
With an almost reflexive gesture, she lifted one arm and brushed back
her long emerald tresses, causing the thick mane to sway behind her,
billowing like a cape in the slight breeze that swirled between the
trees.
"I suppose I had better intrude," she said calmly, walking
past Rajura as he dangled from the tree branch above her with almost
total indifference. "After all," she tossed over her shoulder as she
walked towards the other Outer Senshi, "I would hate to see a repeat
of what happened in 1569."
Rajura fell out of the tree. With a loud thump, his armoured
form slammed into the ground head first, then toppled onto his back.
Laying on a bed of dead pine needles, the Spider Masho shakily pushed
himself onto his elbows. "I really, truly am ashamed for you," he said
after catching his breath. "Naming a random year and expecting me to
confess to some unspecified event? A child wouldn't fall for that
kind of trick. I have absolutely no idea what you refer to."
"Really?" Setsuna glanced back at the shaken Masho of
Deception and grinned wickedly. "I suppose then, that the name Hanako
would mean nothing to you."
"Absolutely nothing," Rajura spat between his clenched teeth,
standing and reaching behind him with one hand to detach the weapon
he wore on his back. Consisting of six interconnected scythes, it
had the advantage of making him look even more like a spider than
usual. "And, as it means nothing, let us never speak it again."
Sailor Pluto shrugged and turned her back on him once more.
"Very well. We shall never speak of Hanako again... since she so
obviously means nothing to you."
Rajura growled, and moved as though he would strike at her
with the gleaming blades of his scythes. Anubis reached for the no
dachi sword strapped across his shoulders, raising his claw and
stepping forward to intercept what was almost definitely going to be
a murder attempt. Abruptly, and with no warning, Rajura suddenly
stopped in his tracks and lowered the weapon. To everyone's surprise,
he began to chuckle as he pulled off his purple helmet and let his
long silver hair fall down his back. His features were refined, and
his profile was sharp enough to cut glass. The smile he wore did
nothing to increase the chill in his right eye. The left eye, of
course, had no chill at all, being nothing but a black patch.
"Well played," he confessed. "I concede this round, dear
Setsuna. My guard slipped, and you very nearly got me." Crouching low,
he suddenly leapt straight up, disappearing into the tree canopy.
"However," his voice hissed from everywhere and nowhere at the same
time, "slipping and falling are two very different things. Drag up my
past again, and I shall be more than happy to share a few of the more
salient details of your own."
Anubis released a sigh of relief and slid his no dachi back
into its scabbard. He had never had to go up against the Spider Masho
before, and in his current condition he doubted it would have been the
best of times to start. The faint clanking of metal rings behind him
were enough to let him know that Kayura as well had been prepared to
intervene, using her shakujo staff, if necessary.
"Whatever you meant," Haruka noted as she and the other two
Senshi joined Setsuna, "it sure seemed to rub old Spiderman the wrong
way. What were you talking about?"
"Nothing important," Setsuna said, a little too quickly. "I
merely know the circumstances under which he received his yoroi. They
are not events he likes to think on, I would guess."
Kayura shuddered slightly and ran her hands over the black
armour plating that sheathed her body. It was hers, but only because
its original owner had passed it to her, and died soon thereafter.
Shutendoji had not exactly passed away peacefully in bed, either.
"Those are events, she said softly, "that very few of us like to think
on overmuch." The Oni yoroi glowed with golden light, then faded to
leave her in a form-fitting suit of grey armour.
Anubis closed his eyes behind his scarlet face mask, and the
brown and black Yami yoroi he possessed crackled with shadowy energy,
enveloping him in its web and fading to leave him clad in the same
form-fitting style of armour that Samurai Troopers referred to as their
'undergear'. Decidedly less feminine than Kayura's, his was also a
bright crimson to her dull grey. Moving quickly, he turned and caught
Kayura as her knees gave way and she crumpled. Cradling the young
Empress in his arms, he sank to his knees and set her down gently
on the soft earth. He could feel a familiar weariness set into his
bones, and knew it was to be expected. The fight with Thraw, plus the
escape afterwards, had taken too much out of him. Eyes slowly closing,
he lay next to Kayura and wrapped his arms around her waist.
Sailor Neptune raised one eyebrow quizzically and glanced over
at Sailor Uranus. "I wonder what brought that on?" she asked, and
Haruka shrugged.
"Maybe it's just nap time." The tall Senshi scratched the back
of her head and stifled a yawn behind one glove. "Come to think of it,"
she muttered, "I'm about ready to crash, myself." The navy and gold
fuku of Sailor Uranus melted into a conservative boy's school uniform.
Pulling off the stiff-collared jacket, Haruka folded it into a
makeshift pillow and tossed it onto the ground. Ruffling her short
blonde hair with one hand, she unbuttoned her starched shirt enough
to breathe and sat down. "Wake me when it's time to go, 'kay, Michi?"
She yawned, and laid her head down on the jacket. Her blue eyes
closed, and soon she was breathing rhythmically.
"You might as well join her, Michiru." Setsuna shouldered her
weapon, a metal staff which bore a striking resemblance to a giant,
old-fashioned key. Although a bit ludicrous in appearance, Michiru had
seen it in action, and was more than willing to testify to its power.
"I shall stand guard, and wait for the rest of our little group to
report. We will no doubt move out at nightfall, so I suggest you get
what rest you can."
Michiru nodded dutifully and closed her eyes in concentration.
As with Haruka before her, the fuku she wore seemed to shift and melt,
reforming itself into a simple girl's school uniform. Smoothing the
pleats in her skirt, Michiru carefully sat next to Haruka and
stretched out, using her lover's stomach as a pillow. The blonde Senshi
mumbled something incoherent and placed her hand on Michiru's head,
stroking the other woman's long sea-green hair as she tried to relax
enough to sleep. Setsuna smiled slightly as she looked down at the
pair, then turned to Hotaru.
"You too, little one. Even Sailor Saturn needs her sleep."
The raven-haired girl shrugged. "I'm not that tired," she
tried to argue, even as a yawn proved her lie. Her outline seemed to
shimmer, and Kayura's armour faded into Sailor Saturn's white and
purple fuku. Her hair shortened until it rested on her shoulders once
more, and her facial features subtly shifted. Rajura's disguise was
wearing off, Setsuna noted. He must have fallen asleep as well,
wherever he was, and without his attention the spell that had made her
daughter into a twin of the empress melted like frost in the summer
sun. With a gentle smile, Sailor Pluto draped an arm around Hotaru's
shoulders.
"Well," she said softly, "if you aren't tired, then why don't
we both stand guard?" Leading the smaller girl, Setsuna walked over
to a convenient tree and sat down with her back to it. Looking up at
Sailor Saturn, she patter the ground next to her. "Have a seat, child.
We can be alert off of our feet as well as on."
Hotaru shrugged again and quietly seated herself next to her
parent. After a second of fumbling, she decided to prop the Silence
Glaive she carried against the trunk of the tree. Setsuna rested the
Time Key across her lap and sat, staring into space. Soon enough, as
she had figured, the exhausted Sailor Saturn's eyes began to flutter
shut. With heroic effort, Hotaru forced them back open and shook her
head in an attempt to clear it.
"Rest, Hotaru," Setsuna said, in that same gentle tone, as she
reached up and cupped her hand around the side of the younger girl's
head. She barely had to do more than initiate the motion before Sailor
Saturn was leaning over, resting her head on Setsuna's shoulder.
Despite Hotaru's best efforts, it really wasn't very long at all before
she had joined her other two parents in slumber.
It wasn't going to be easy, Setsuna thought to herself as she
idly stroked Hotaru's hair. They were up against foes they knew less
than nothing about, and who seemed to have the advantage in both
numbers and power. She smiled. If Toshitada were there, he would have
argued that it merely seemed that way because he was pacing himself.
She wished he was with them.
**********
Toshitada Koma fought the urge to sneeze as he examined his
surroundings. His long red hair stirred in the breeze, and he brushed
a few stray locks out of his way with an irritated sniff. Knitting
his arched eyebrows together, he crouched low and tried again to take
stock of where he was.
The landscape looked like something from the tenth circle of
hell. Fires burned in shallow craters, a thick sulphurous smoke choked
the sky, and the ground was a boggy grey muck that sucked at the man's
patent leather shoes as if it planned to devour them. It was not
quite the kind of place he had expected to wind up in, but then he
supposed dreams were getting stranger than when he was young.
Noting that the muck had coated his hand when he set it down
to balance himself, he wiped it clean on the leg of his jeans.
Standing, he slid his thumbs through his belt loops and began to stride
deeper into the fantasy. The sounds of battle were nearby, so he
decided it was a good a place as any to find who he was looking for.
Cresting a small hillock, the former Oni Masho watched with
interest as a small girl in a white uniform battled an ogre of some
kind. Its companions scattered the ground in mute testament to her
prowess, but the battle was beginning to go poorly for her. Toshitada
tilted his head to one side and considered the girl. Short, purple
eyes, black hair, and cute as a button : this was probably the one he
was looking for.
"Excuse me," he said as smoothly as he could, hopping between
the battling pair and turning to face the girl, "are you, by any
chance, Sailor Saturn?"
The girl looked a bit flustered. "Well, yes..."
"Ah." The ogre lunged at him, drool trailing from its fangs,
and he knocked it away without even looking. "By that, may I assume
you are also Hotaru Tomoe?"
Hotaru nodded. "I am." This, she decided, was turning into an
even stranger dream than usual.
"Excellent." Toshitada smiled, and the creature Hotaru had been
battling began to advance towards them, lifting its hairy arms above
its head and bellowing at the top of its lungs. Sailor Saturn stepped
back, lifting her Silence Glaive, and Toshitada glanced over his
shoulder at the giant ogre.
"In about three seconds," he said simply, "you are going to
make me cross." An arctic wind would have appeared warm in comparison
to the look in his sharp blue eyes. "Now I suggest you sit down and
wait your turn while you still have one." The ogre whimpered slightly
and sat, clapping both hands over its mouth. "Yes," the man once called
Shutendoji admitted reasonably, "you WERE here first. I cut in line.
Do you want to have a problem with that?" The ogre shook its head.
"Wise choice."
Hotaru lowered her glaive and looked at the man standing before
her. He was tall, but lean, his body exhibiting a feeling of speed and
agility, rather than strength. He had an aristocratic cast to his
features, with a sharp, hawk-like nose and piercing blue eyes. His hair
easily reached the small of his back, and for some odd reason he
reminded her of Setsuna. "You're not part of my dream," she asked him
nervously, "are you?"
"Only in a sense." Toshitada smiled as warmly as he knew how.
He had been getting quite bored, waiting in the Gates of Time, until
he had remembered an offhand comment Setsuna had made about her
daughter Hotaru Tomoe. He felt it was only right to see the child, and
besides, he HAD been bored. "Do you know who I am?"
"No, sir."
"Well, then we must have a lot of catching up to do. I am...
an old friend... of your mother." That went as far as he cared to,
concerning his relationship with Setsuna. I may be dead, he thought to
himself, but she is still my wife. Had Sailor Pluto even considered
the implications of that? He certainly had, which was why he was here.
After all, Hotaru Tomoe was the daughter of Setsuna Meioh. So,
as Setsuna's husband, that made Toshitada Koma her father. And he had
every intention of being an involved parent.
**********
Just a little bit farther, Jun Yamano told himself, and
forced his feet to keep walking. Life sucked. He was tired, he was
sore, he was hungry, and he had a sleeping Masho of Poison playing
piggyback. Adjusting his grip on Naaza's thighs, he leaned forward a
bit more and allowed the man's arms to dangle down on either side of
his neck. The Snake Masho wasn't as heavy as Jun had expected, but
nobody was going to hear him not complaining.
"Why do I have to do this, again?" Jun panted to the woman
marching next to him. Rubbing her shoulder and adjusting the strap
for her purse (which was more like a shoulder bag), Nasuti Yagyu cast
the boy an annoyed glance.
"Because," she explained sensibly, "we're taking turns, and my
arms are tired. You can hand him off to one of the Storm Senshi when
we stop for a rest." Naaza had passed out the moment their diversionary
battle against what felt like a few million of Mother's troops had
ended, his armour disappearing in a sickly sweet-smelling cloud of
pink mist. Everything the small group had tried had failed to rouse
him since, and Sailor Lightstorm had decided they would just carry him
to the rendezvous site.
"Ooh!" Sailor Icestorm, who had been bringing up the rear,
began hopping up and down excitedly and waving one arm in the air. "I'm
rested! I'm rested! I'm like, so totally rested! I'll carry Snuggles
for a while!"
"The hell you will," Sailor Thunderstorm countered, whipping
her long ponytail of brown hair into the face of her shorter sibling.
"You'd just drop him, like last time. You're a clutz, sis."
The girl in the dark blue fuku began to sniffle, her lower
lip trembling, and Thunderstorm rolled her eyes. Pushing past the
armoured forms of Kayura's Imperial Guard, Sailor Lightstorm intervened
and draped an arm over Icestorm's shoulders.
"Now, now," the blonde in the gold fuku said consolingly,
"Thunderstorm isn't trying to be mean : she's just cranky because she
got roughed up in the fight today."
"Really?" Icestorm blinked, in genuine curiosity. "Then how
do you explain every OTHER day we've known her?"
Lightstorm chuckled, and Thunderstorm fumed. Jun decided to
keep walking. "You know," he said to Nasuti, "it still seems pretty
weird to me that old Snake Eyes here would just crash like that. What
do you suppose happened?"
Nasuti narrowed her eyes. As a university professor, she had
specialised in legends and romantic literature, including the ones
about the Samurai Troopers. Now that the legend had come true, everyone
seemed to expect her to be an expert on the subject. "Well," she said
after a pause to collect her thoughts, "I'd assume that using their
armour must drain the Masho. After all, all that power they use has
to come from SOMEWHERE, and even if the armour is mystical, the bearers
are all too human. Channelling and controlling the kind of energy that
their yoroi gives out is probably an exhausting process. Remember,
Naaza has been fighting these creatures for nearly twenty-four hours
straight. It makes sense that he would be at the limit of his
endurance."
"Oh." Jun thought about that for a while. "But none of the
guys ever passed out like Naaza, and they've all used their armour
for a lot longer that he did!"
"The Samurai Troopers aren't as strong as the Masho. And don't
forget," she was quick to remind Jun, "Ryo often passed out after
using the Kikouten, and the other Troopers have shown signs of
exhaustion after long fights, before."
"Yeah." Jun smiled suddenly. "Hey, do you think that's why
Touma always sleeps in until noon?"
"Touma sleeps in until noon," Nasuti answered, "because he
doesn't go to bed until six in the morning. You know how obsessed he
gets over his studies."
Jun nodded. "And his video games! I once saw him hooked up to
one of those RPG things, and he didn't even notice me when I smacked
him in the back of the head!" The young boy sobered slightly. "I wish
he was here right now. He'd come up with a plan to beat these creatures
faster than we could snap our fingers! And Ryo and Seiji would kick the
slime right out of them!"
"True," Nasuti confessed, "it feels a little weird without
them, but I wouldn't be so quick to discount the people we have with
us. The Masho are pretty strong themselves, and I'm sure the Outer
Senshi are at least as powerful. As for kicking the slime out of those
creatures-" she frowned. "I seem to recall you trying to do a bit of
that yourself."
Jun shrugged, and quickly caught Naaza before the man could
slide off of his back. "Ah," he said with a dismissive gesture, "that
was nothing. One of them had the drop on Sailor Lightstorm, so I
tackled it. No big deal."
"VERY big deal, Jun. I happen to be responsible for you, and
you're taking risks you shouldn't." Nasuti was going to continue her
lecture, then noticed that Jun had plugged his fingers in his ears.
"Very funny. The fact of the matter is that you and I are not powerful
enough to fight youma or youja bare-handed. If you don't start being
a little more careful, you're going to get hurt."
"I'm not a child, Nasuti, and you're not my mother, no matter
HOW much you try to act like it." Jun scowled at the older woman, who
looked back at him in shock. "It's true, Nasuti. I can take care of
myself, okay? You were there when I won the Nationals! I'm the best
kendoist my age in ALL OF JAPAN! I'm not stupid : know exactly how
immortal I'm not. But if one of my friends is in trouble, I'm GOING to
help them, and I don't care what you or anybody else says about it!"
With a curse, he dropped Naaza onto the ground and rubbed his lower
back. "Could someone else please carry Snake-Lips for a while? He's
getting pretty heavy."
Lightstorm stepped forward and lifted the green-haired Masho
over her shoulder like a bushel of wheat. Nasuti looked downcast, and
Jun began to feel like a major heel. "Listen," he said, "I know you're
just trying to look after me, but I'm getting sick of everyone acting
like I'm useless. I appreciate it, I really do, but you have to let
me do my own thing. If I get hurt, it's my fault."
"You've got a point, Jun." Nasuti smiled shyly and placed her
hands on her hips. "You aren't nine years old anymore, and I can't
tell you what to do. I'm not your mother, and I'm not your baby-sitter.
It just gets easy to forget some of that, sometimes. I'll try to lay
off, but you have to promise you'll be a little more careful."
"Thanks." Jun smiled, and hugged the woman who had been in
charge of raising him for the past three years. "Would you mind
backing me up when I try to explain it to Hotaru? We haven't had time
to talk, but I think she really thinks I shouldn't have come."
"She'll get over it, Jun," Nasuti told the boy with a smile,
"or she won't. You'd better get it out of your systems now, though, or
it could fester. As soon as we get to camp, lay your cards on the
table and tell her how you feel. If you fight, you were going to wind
up fighting anyway. If she gets angry at you, well, it's not the end
of the world."
Jun chuckled. "You really don't know Hotaru that well, do you?"
**********
The soothing calm was all that mattered, Thraw told himself.
He had to find his centre, he needed to locate that ever-elusive sense
of piece, and focus. Holding the knife carefully, he leaned over the
small bonsai tree, not even daring to breathe. Focus was important.
It provided clarity. If he could find the right cut for his bonsai, he
would find the right cut for...
For...
With a growl, the massive bald man smashed his fist down,
cracking the table in half and sending the small tree he had been
working on soaring through the air in a parabolic arc. ANUBIS! The
blood pounded in Thraw's temples, and he could almost see the other
man's stern countenance glaring at him. They had crossed swords, and
Anubis had been the winner. Perhaps not officially, not in any way
that mattered, but he and Thraw had met on a field of battle, and
Anubis was yet breathing. Grabbing one of the cinder blocks he had
been using to prop up the table legs, Thraw hurled it into the air
and shattered it with a spin kick.
"Gee," a woman's voice echoed behind him, "I can see you're
busy redecorating, so I'll come back later."
"You want to see redecorating?" Thraw smiled, biting his lip
until blood flowed freely down his chin. Grabbing one of the table
halves, he pivoted and hurled it through a bamboo screen. A row of
ceramic figures were next, warriors and great heroes that Thraw himself
had commemorated in sculpture after slaughtering. He slaughtered them
again, now, crushing them in his hands and smashing them against the
wall. With his bare fingers, he pulled blocks of stone from the very
walls themselves, breaking each with precise strikes. His bed was
turned into an impromptu club, with which he demolished an ancient
suit of armour, pounding the iron plates flat like a discarded beer
can. Panting heavily, he then tossed the bed out of the window.
Holts clapped slowly. "Nice," she said, "I give it an eight out
of ten on the rampage scale. If you really wanted to impress me, you
should have cracked the anvil in half with your head... like you did
last time."
Thraw scowled and looked over at the heavy iron anvil sitting
unscathed in the corner of his room. "But I need my anvil," he argued.
"How else will I forge my weapons? And it took far too long to replace
the last one. Plus, I fractured my skull, and I'm not really mad
enough to do that again." In fact, he had to admit, he was feeling much
better already.
Holts looked down at the small bonsai she was holding. "I
suppose this little guy is safe with you again." Looking utterly bored,
she handed the miniature tree back to her brother. "You know, Pedri
was so mad when he heard about your screw up, steam nearly shot out
of his ears. I'm surprised he didn't kill you again. Or at least beat
you senseless, not that it's a far way to go."
"No," Thraw grumbled, "Brother Pedri felt that I needed a more
object lesson. From this day forward, he will come to me to receive my
reports. Mother no longer wishes to see me." His voice faltered a
little, and Holts winced. Ignored by Mother? Most of them would rather
take the beating. Which reminded her...
"Hey, Erdge is awake."
"Erdge?" Thraw looked a bit disoriented.
"Yeah, you know... our sister? Blonde hair, long braid? Dresses
in leather? Taller than me- oh, wait, that's everybody. Never mind."
Holts pouted. "The point is that our sister Erdge, the Erdge I've been
keeping in my room for the past day, AND caring for tirelessly, not
that I ever get any thanks for it- wait. I'm getting off track
again. The point is she's awake."
Thraw blinked. "Erdge is awake?"
Holts narrowed all four of her catlike eyes and frowned.
"That's what I just said. I haven't slept in MINUTES, and I'm a little
bit edgy, so you might want to just tell me whether you want to see
her before I get upset." She would have looked quite threatening, if
she hadn't been staring him in the chest. Thraw chuckled despite
himself. The very idea of his sister Holts -who weighed perhaps eighty
pounds after a big meal and was too lazy to even lift her head without
good reason- actually doing something as physically active as smacking
him almost made him want to see her try. She'd probably stop for a
nap halfway through her swing and forget where she had left off, he
decided, and just nodded.
"Yes, Sister Holts. I am most eager to be reunited with our
dear Sister Erdge."
Holts folded her arms across her chest and nodded happily.
"Good, because Pedri's already ordering a full mobilisation of our
troops, and I figured you two could handle telling Tuls and Tytoung
that they're needed in the bone room for me."
"A full mobilisation?" Thraw blinked in surprise. "Who will
be in charge?"
"Everybody," Holts answered. "Vyne gets the flyers, Tytoung
handles the armoured divisions, you're in charge of the infantry, and
Erdge gets to boss around the cavalry. Pedri tells you all what to
do, and I get to keep playing the messenger girl." She yawned. "I
REALLY need to figure out a way to sleepwalk."
"Excellent," Thraw purred, stroking his chin as he and Holts
left his chambers. "With our full forces looking for them, these Masho
will be vanquished in no time!"
"Take them alive," Holts interjected, "Pedri says he wants to
handle the Empress and that Rajura guy personally."
"Fine," Thraw concurred. He made careful note of the fact that
Pedri had made no such rules about a certain Wolf Masho. He smiled
toothily and felt his spine straighten slightly as he marched alongside
his little sister Holts. Payback, people often said, was a bitch. Thraw
had never understood that phrase. To him, payback was breath, food,
the very blood that ran so hotly through his veins. It was vengeance,
the purest, simplest act of justice known to any creature living. He
loved payback. He WAS payback. Payback was fun.
"Good times ahead," Thraw rumbled, "and that means BAD times
for you, Anubis of the Masho..."
**********
To Be Continued...