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Chapter 167: Freedom is finding Water in the Desert.
🕑 Added 2023-10-21 03:55:38 +0000 UTCChapter 167: Freedom is finding Water in the Desert.
Zyl, Mercury, and Irrithuriel immediately started scrambling.
“What do you mean it’s moving?!” Zyl asked, hopping up from his chair.
“It’s moving, Zyl! East, east, it’s going east right now!” Mercury said, also hopping down.
Irrithuriel was up before either of them, desperately heading for her bedroom. “I am not confronting anyone else in these rags, you two better wait for me,” she growled. The door slammed shut behind her.
Despite the warning, the two boys were already by the door, holding it open. They gazed at the outside world longingly, and Mercury’s eyes slowly tracked an invisible distant target, drifting over the horizon.
“Where is it now?” Zyl asked, the urgency still in his voice.
“There.” Mercury indicated the same direction he was looking with a foreleg.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then he suddenly jerked and held his head. “Ah! Ouch. No. Not using dragon eyes yet. Can’t find it.”
“Guess we’ll just have to rely on me, then,” Mercury said.
“Mh. You know, out of all the compasses I’ve used, I gotta say that you’re my favourite,” Zyl said, flashing a smile.
Mercury was about to retort when Irrithuriel appeared behind them with a gust of icy air. “Good. I am prepared. Where to?” she asked, hands on her waist. The old lady now stood up far straighter, and wore a decorated blue dress, parts of which were covered in scale and metal. A wardress, perhaps.
“That way,” Mercury said, still pointing, and a minute later, the world shifted. Irrithuriel swooped both him and Zyl up into her arms, carrying them like wet sacks of potatoes.
“Good. Get ready, we’ll be going fast,” she said, digging her feet into the ground.
When he heard the crack, Mercury started to feel worried. Irrithuriels knees were already bent for a jump when wings of icy crystal and blue scale rose from her back.
Then, she jumped. For a mere moment, Mercury saw the ground underneath her feet turn into literal craters, and the worry he felt turned into fear.
A flap of Irrithuriel’s wings later, and the wind slammed into him as though he’d hit a brick wall. The noise was entirely deafening, the world around him filled only by bleary shapes which disappeared all-too quickly and the howling of the wind.
<Adaptable> kicked in a moment later, just a second after the cold dug its way to his bones. Now, Mercury was truly grateful for having learnt <Wind> before, because if he hadn’t, this journey would certainly have been quite a bit more uncomfortable.
Even with the wind itself showing him its mercy, he was still barely hanging on. He didn’t even need to breathe. There was more than enough force for the air to enter his lungs. Getting it out was more of a problem.
Thus, Mercury spent a few moments huffing and puffing, the skin of his cheeks stretching back from the force, before he had a chance to look over at Zyl. Somehow, the dragon looked beautiful.
No, not just beautiful, he was gorgeous. Zyl’s face was entirely untouched by the wind. His skin was too tough for a knife to pierce, let alone be stretched by a gust of wind. His hair fluttered back perfectly, as though the air itself molded it into a picture of beauty. Then he looked over at Mercury, and flashed a radiant smile, then gave him a wink.
It struck right into Mercury’s heart. If he were still human, this would have been the time for his nose to start bleeding. With some effort, he winked back, and saw Zyl’s lips move in what might have been a giggle. Mercury couldn’t hear it over the rushing of the wind.
He just looked at his boyfriend for a few moments, mostly enchanted, until something blurred beneath them, and the ground reappeared.
Irrithuriel dug her heels into the rocky surface of the mountain, and despite that, still slid forward a few dozen meters. The deceleration was so strong all the air in Mercury’s lungs was pushed right out of him as his body was essentially shaped around Irrithuriel’s arm.
A few moments later he got to breathe in again.
“Are we closer now?” Irrithuriel asked, turning to the mopaaw in her arms.
A look of horror slowly dawned on Mercury’s face as he realized this was not the only short flight they’d be making. He quickly checked the location of the shard again. Its direction had changed more now, but it was still mostly the same.
“Further that waaaaaYYYY!!!” Before he got to properly finish, Irrithuriel already leapt again.
The wind entirely deafened all other noise again.
- - -
A few jumps later, and Irrithuriel slowed down in the air for once.
“I see them,” she said.
Mercury’s eyes slowly drifted open, as his stomach churned. He felt just about ready to throw up, and the entire world seemed to be spinning, so for a few moments, he had no idea who Irrithuriel was even speaking off.
Then, he raised his gaze, looking up at a mountain peak in front of them. He saw… two humanoid-ish figures. With the way the shadows fell he could barely make out anything more, and quickly lowered his head again as he felt the urge to vomit increase.
“Starlight. Is the spark up there?” Irrithuriel
“Wha-?” Mercury asked, confused.
“The spark. Is it on the mountain?” she asked again, voice slightly tinged with impatience.
“Oh.” Mercury paused, catching his <Breath> for a moment. He was truly glad to have that ability. <Itinerant> and <Adaptable> both helped calm his stomach after the journey, so he checked for the spark a moment later. “Yeah. It’s up there.”
“Then be ready for engagement.”
“Oh, I’m not planning to marry yet~” Zyl hummed playfully, looking at the tattered Mercury.
The older lady smirked, but gave an exaggerated eyeroll. Then, a few seconds later, she moved above the edge of the mountain, now facing down on the two figures from far closer.
The one on the right turned towards them. It was a thin man, his hair black with a green sheen to it, long and straight. His arms were spread out from his body, and his head titled upwards to meet them.
“Well, well! Look who finally made it!” Berthorn’s face was split by a smile that seemed grotesquely wide. “I am. So glad. To have you here.”
Mercury saw that there was a manic glint in his eyes as Irrithuriel slowly lowered herself down onto the mountaintop, letting Mercury and Zyl back onto the floor. Mercury himself immediately set about relieving himself of the contents of his stomach, gasping for air.
Berthorn cleared his throat, but Mercury raised a paw, then took a couple deep breaths. A moment later he cleared away the most certainly rainbow coloured vomit and smoothed his fur with <Telekinesis>. Only then did he turn to face Zyl’s brother by blood. “Alright. Go on,” he said, still taking deep breaths.
“Truly, Zylnare-”
“Coward child! Stop your prancing and give back what belongs to me!” on the other side of the mountain stood Berthorn’s mother, Trinyakorie.
Unlike her son, she stood tall and proud, flaming red hair blowing in the mountaintop wind. Her red dress was covered in rubies which sparkled in the sunlight, making her seem coated in embers. Her face, too, seemed equally red, painted with an expression of rage.
Berthorns too-wide smile faded slightly. “Ah. Mother. No, no, no, this won’t do. You must let me speak. This is my time, you see,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Return what is mine this instance!!” Trinya shouted back.
The smile disappeared from Berthorn’s face, instead replaced with an expression so plain you could have mistaken him for a doll. Then he blinked. His chest rose and sunk once. “Silence, mother.”
Trinya tried to yell, but not a sound left her mouth.
Slowly, Berthron turned to face the group of newcomers. “Lady Irrithuriel. Is your clan also allied with these two?” he asked calmly.
The old dragon shook her head, and crossed her arms across her chest. “No. Only me.”
His smile reappeared, ever faint. “Good, good.” He turned, facing someone else. “Brother. Zylnareth. It is so good to see you again.”
Zyl’s eyes darted over to his mother, who was still locked in a silence she could not break. Then they darted back to Berthorn. “What did you do to her? Why are you even here?!”
Ignoring his words, Berthorn turned again, this time moving to face Mercury. “And you, too. You are still alive. Mercury, I believe?” He paused, then shrugged. “Or beast, pest, plague, little monster. All shall do I suppose. I wish I could say I am happy to see you again, but truly, I am not.”
“Sorry, I think I need to vomit again.”
Berthorn’s brows creased in anger. “You shall not.”
With a wave of his hand, the dizziness slid off Mercury like a thin coating of oil, disappearing as though it had never been there. Mercury turned to face him. “Dang, was really looking forward to crashing your vibe.”
Berthorn’s face eased again, the faint smile reappearing. “Yes. I am sure you were.”
Finally, he faced his mother again. “Mother, dearest, I am truly sorry. What did you want to say?” He waved his hand, and Trinya’s shouting echoed across the mountaintop once more.
“Little traitor!! I raised you, my own flesh and blood, and this is how you repay me?!” she screeched, gesturing angrily with her arms. “You sneak and steal and hide! You are a coward, Berthorn! A stain on our honor!”
His smile turned wider. “Our honour. Yes. Right. Truly our family is…” he gazed up into the sky, taking a deep breath in through his nose with his eyes closed. “Truly honourable.”
Some of the rage disappeared from Trinya’s face, replaced with icy fury. “What do you mean to imply, child?”
“That you are as much of a scheming worm as I, mother dearest,” Berthorn said, his smile wide. “That you scheme and writhe pitifully for only a glimpse at more power. That you would step over the corpses of your own sons if it meant you could finally sit on a more beautiful chair.”
“Of course, it is not the chair you covet. The chair is but a symbol. Status, though, mother. Status you would not hesitate to sacrifice for.” Berthorn’s gaze was dark as he fixed it upon the woman who birthed him.
“You are speaking dangerously, Berthorn,” Trinya hissed back.
Then her son burst into laughter. A long string of sounds which rang out across the mountaintop then echoed back from the valleys below like a chorus of miserable souls. Berthorn’s laughter was empty of joy.
“Jijijijiji Jahaha JAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” he laughed and laughed on.
“Jahahahahahaha, hahahahaha! Jahahahahaha!”
“Jah, jajaja, jahahaha, JAHAHAHA!”
“AHAHAHAHA!”
Then he stopped.
He stood up straight.
“You are pathetic, mother,” he said, his voice calm and even.
Trinya looked at him, her patience clearly in its last moments. “Hold your tongue, child.”
He smiled, wide and eerie, the sun shining onto his face. “No, mother, I will do none of the kind.”
“You have failed. You plotted and you were outwitted. All your plans were dashed through, by a simple beast no less!!” his hand flared out, pointing at Mercury. It looked as though his body was puppeteered by strings.
“I was not-”
“YOU WERE!!” he screamed, smile replaced by flash anger. “You were.” Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “I am truly, unequivocally, irrevocably disappointed by you, mother. It took not me to foil your plans. Not my brother or the lady Irrithuriel. It took a single mopaaw.”
“I am pretty charming,” Mercury said.
“You are! You are and that’s the problem. Mother, if only you even remotely cared, you would have noticed that with only a few sentences he had already made Nir betray you.” His gaze was truly filled with sadness.
“What? You aren’t making sense,” Trinya said, a vein pulsing on her forehead.
Berthorn slowly lowered his hands from his grand position, sinking in on himself with a sigh. “Hah. No, no, I must not be to you. That’s the problem, see. You think I’m the one talking nonsense.”
Zyl took half a step forward. “Berthorn,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of concern. “Is everything alright?”
His brother’s head snapped towards him without his body turning. “Alright?” he asked, tilting his head. “Why yes. In fact, I’ve never felt better. Zyl, have you ever felt fear?”
He shook his head. “No, no, of course not. You are, after all, the mighty guardian Friaminth, the undefeatable. What would you have to fear, hm? You could wipe out all your enemies with but a thought. Well. Could have, jijijiji!”
“So no,” he repeated. “You don’t know fear. Not the kind I know. The existential fear of whether you will be allowed to live another day, allowed to take another breath. And Zyl, today is the first day that fear is gone.”
The smile on his face reappeared, a tear streaking down his cheek as he shivered in happiness. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“I don’t need to run. I don’t need to worry. I am in control, Zyl.”
“Can you imagine that? Just think of it- living a life crawling through the desert, looking for drops of water, and one day, you find a lake! What would you do, Zyl? Would you move past it, would you throw yourself back into the desert? Would you sit at the edge and simply gaze at it? Or leap in, and enjoy the fruits of your labour?”
The smile on his face turned from manic to peaceful.
“I am a swimmer Zyl. I have always kept above water, barely not drowning. Now I shall drink.”
Then he raised his hand, a strange orb held inside.
There was a moment’s silence.
A flash of light.
A noise like that of nails against a chalkboard as the air ignited for dozens of feet. A screech, as reality was torn apart and reassembled into blazing fire.
A small, red beam, sailing through the air and striking against Trinya’s stomach.
Through it.
Out the other side.
And arced through the air like a bolt of lightning.
Silence wrapped around the mountaintop. Dozens of seconds passed, then the thunder of the attack echoed back.
A thousand rumbles and screeches, like a chorus of tortured souls.
Trinya spat out blood onto the floor. The hole in her stomach was about two things thick. Nothing she couldn’t live through. Yet her insides weren’t simply harmed, they were charred. Her intestines were blackened and charred to a crisp, her kidneys little more than bricks of coal.
The first bit of blood was followed by another fountain as her mouth filled with crimson liquid. She coughed, gasping for air, crumpling to one knee. “Wha…t?” she gasped, barely stopping herself from falling to the floor. “What… ha-... ppened?”
Her head hit the floor, unconscious.
The wound on her stomach wasn’t bleeding. Any blood directly from it had already evaporated, turning into a thin mist of red around the woman.
Berthorn, for his part, simply smiled. He took a deep breath, then exhaled, turning towards Zyl. “Haaaaaah. See, brother? Now that. That is freedom.”
Mercury’s eyes were wide at the scene, staring at the woman on the floor.
Irrithuriel seemed shocked, her expression stiff.
Zyl, for his part, first looked at his mother with surprise, then grief, then closed his eyes and exhaled sharply.
“Berthorn,” he said, his voice almost cracking.
“Yes, Brother?” the other man replied, calm as a tranquil lake.
“I didn’t have a good relationship with our mother.”
“I know, brother.”
“Do you believe… truly believe I wish for her to die?” Zyl asked, opening his eyes again and looking at Berthorn.
The once-coward raised an eyebrow. “Of course, brother. What else?”
“Have you ever considered,” Zyl said, taking another sharp breath to control his voice, “that I wanted for her to apologize?”
Berthorn scoffed, half in scorn and half in humor. “Pfff. Do you truly believe she would have?”
Zyl paused. Held eye contact with Berthorn, who slowly cocked his head to the side. “No.”
“Mh. I thought so, brother.”
He raised the orb again. “You know what this is, Zyl?”
“Our mother’s undoing,” Zyl lamented with a sigh, shaking his head.
“Our mother’s creation, Zyl! Her aspiration, her stepping stool to greatness!” Berthorn flared his hands out again, then slowly let them drop, shaking his head. “But I suppose you wouldn’t get that, would you?”
“Having been born with everything. Having it all right from the beginning. You don’t know what it’s like. What the desert feels like. What it’s like to crawl on the ground, to writhe for even a chance, a shred to be someone. You wouldn’t know what that’s like,” Berthorn cried.
Zyl solemnly raised his head, then shook it. “No, Berthorn,” he said slowly, “I suppose I wouldn’t.”
“That’s what I thought, brother.” Berthorn raised his hand again, pointing it at Mercury. The orb whirred in it. Within it, there was a piece of something, a red spark, one that writhed and turned in on itself, shifting from fractal pattern to fractal pattern.
It condensed. Going from ever-shifting down into a tiny dot, entirely compressed to the center of the sphere. Its radiance stopped pouring out, and the ball returned to looking like an innate glass marble.
There was a moment’s silence.
A flash of light.
A noise like that of nails against a chalkboard as the air ignited for dozens of feet. A screech, as reality was torn apart and reassembled into blazing fire.
The red bolt of violently destructive fire struck against Zyl’s palm faster than Mercury could blink. It caused an explosion, a cloud of dust and smoke and soot lazily drifting through the silent air.
Nothing moved for a breath.
Then, first, Irrithuriel rushed over to Trinya, her body coated with ice, as she hurriedly poured a potion into the woman’s mouth.
A moment later, Zyl came rocketing out of the cloud. His left hand, the one he used to block the beam, was mangled. His skin was torn and burnt, his clothing ripped apart as blood streamed down its entirety from his shoulder.
His right arm was coated in plasma, his eyes full of a cold rage. “Berthorn,” he muttered as he charged at his brother. “You should never have threatened my fucking boyfriend.”
With a thunderclap, his plasma-coated fist struck against the cheek of his brother.
