Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Bonds and Beginnings ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Al'Thor sat on his throne, his cold hazel eyes closed and his fingers pressed against one another in a thoughtful pose. His lean, weathered face showed no signs of emotion as he sat motionless on his golden throne. His golden circlet sparkled dimly in the flickering firelight, placed upon his high forehead as a sign to his reign as a gold scepter lay at his right elbow, leaning against the throne.

Various servant wenches scurried in and out of the room, all Elvin, as he was, but all in abject submission to him. Al'Thor watched them go about their business with a bland expression, ignoring all of their charms and deeds. They ran about the room, filling his goblet, dusting the draperies and such, all with minimum sound, as they knew their lord was thinking. Suddenly the huge, wooden double doors were thrown open, and a group of three men interrupted the maid's silence. Their heavy boots thudded upon the floor, echoing throughout the hall as their long cloaks fluttered out behind them. All three were heavily decorated with battle scars and awards alike, and all of them carried at least one sword at their back, if not another on their hip. At the sound Al'Thor leapt up from his seat, dismissing the chambermaids with a flick of his wrists, receiving his sudden guests.

"You're Immanence," the foremost one said, while the three of them bowed low.

Al'Thor nodded, recognizing them. "What news, Lords?"

"Local round reports." One elf, Beorn, responded. "My lands have total allegiance to you still, with little or no evidence of rebellion. And, currently, I have an army together three hundred at your disposal."

"Excellent. Your lands might not be vital but they're certainly helpful." Al'Thor smiled softly, his lean face softening a bit. "And you, Lord Sauldernon?"

"The River Raging has been taken from the rebels, and has been secured. The rest of the rebel towns and bands have been gathered and either put to death or into the marble pits. There should be no more uprising with the increased military I've installed in the towns." Sauldernon replied, slicking back his jet-black hair. Al'Thor smiled brighter.

"Outstanding. That river is essential to my expanding empire. And now you, Lord Gaelorn. What news of your manor? The Borderlands to the desert are as vital as the river, you see."

Lord Gaelorn looked a little hesitant, but began to speak. "Most of the granaries and the breweries are secure, except for the few that still resist. Towns are secure-"

"Don't lie to me, Gaelorn. I know full and well that the towns aren't secure." Al'Thor sighed. "I just wanted to hear it from your mouth. But, I suppose, that won't be necessary now. I have to say, Gaelorn, that I'm very disappointed in you." Gaelorn was suddenly more nervous.

But Your Grace! Do you even know why my towns aren't secure?" he asked urgently. "Do you know who's been keeping them out of order-"

"Of course I know!" Al'Thor returned irritably. "And I know how you've handled it too." He rose form his throne, looking down upon them all. He was a very authoritative figure, towering well above them. His power radiated off of him, both his magic ability and his inner ki. Such powers like that of ki were looked down upon and feared, even more, in some places, then necromancy. The lords that knelt before him feared him greatly, knowing that if they angered him more, Al'Thor would have them all killed. But Sauldernon dared to speak.

Sauldernon gave Gaelorn a look. "You've had problems with that upstart as well?" Beorn was surprised as well, nodding in agreement.

She's hard to catch." He agreed. "Slippery as a trout."

"But we should have been able to get her in her weakened state. There isn't really any excuse for that. She's merely a child, mind you." Gaelorn added confidently. Al'Thor suddenly whirled around to face them all, his face contorted with anger.

"I would advise you not to underestimate that child. I would kill to have that power." He snarled nastily. "I should be the one to have that power, not some snivvling little whelp of a halfbreed..."

"You have killed for that power, and you haven't gotten it yet." Beorn reminded him. "You've had just as much trouble with her as we all have." Al'Thor sighed and nodded, settling back into his throne. "And besides, any of us would kill to have her power. Even is she is a nameless little half-breed."

Al'Thor rose to dismiss them all, not in the mood to kill anyone, and wishing to dismiss his powerful, if not irritable lords. "One word of advice before you leave: the girl is currently traveling with a stranger to our world. Tall, green. Ears like ours. He is exceptionally powerful. Look out for him, and, if possible, try to sway him to our side. Understand? Good. You may go." Each lord bowed and kissed his hand, then quickly left the hall without further words. The Elvin monarch watched them go silently, already engaged in deep concentration as he traced the girl from where he sat, sensing her energy. It had taken him long enough to find her energy, and he knew it would take even longer to find her, or even get enough bounty hunters to track her down. For he knew that if she wanted to hide, she could hide, and no one could find her. But he would have to try if he wanted her power, and if he wanted stability in his kingdom.

~*~*~*~

Several, several months had gone by since Ryven and Piccolosan met, and the training was now in full swing. With each passing day Ryven found that she could easily harness her power and manipulate it with ease, though she was still struggling with levitation and flying. Slowly the bumps and bruises of the training became less and less important until she began to ignore them all together, considering them trivial to the occasional broken bone Piccolo gave her. He had been right, the training was long and trying, often starting just before day's first light and not ending till the last ray of sun had disappeared from the horizon.

Piccolosan was a strict teacher; a hard taskmaster, but patient when he wanted to be. He often drove the elf girl to her limits, seeing how far she'd go before he would back off and start over again. With each passing day the lessons grew harder and more trying, both physically and mentally. In a mere month, Ryven began to fill out more; losing her childish thinness and gaining more muscle mass. She began to rely less on her sword and more on her abilities, slowly building her self-confidence back to where it should have been. And ever so slowly a relationship began to form between the student and master, one that they couldn't have helped if they had tried.

***

One day, long into the winter, the training had gone past sunset and into the night. Billowing clouds had begun to build in the north, heralding the snowstorm as it threatened to dump record amounts of snow on the land. Ryven and Piccolo both fought against each other with intense vigor, mostly to stay warm than for any real spar. Their breath whirled out above them in white clouds, rising up over them as they fought, disappearing into the darkness. Their cries and blows filled the dead winter air, echoing off the rock walls and the trees of the forest they had slowly moved into. The desert wasn't too far away, only about 20 miles across the grassland, but in a day's time their training had brought them over that distance into the green woods.

Snowblind watched from a rock some distance away, sitting and ignoring the pain he felt from his link with Ryven. He had noticed a change in her in the last few months, ever since that first day. The most obvious change was that she had stopped going into taverns and drinking herself into oblivion. Ryven seemed to have found something to live for, and something to fight for, even if it was just training with this strange teacher from the unknown. He had renewed her vigor to fight against Al'Thor, and her dreams about facing him in a final battle became more real to her, finding herself almost plotting it out every day.

There was a sudden scream, and Snowblind snapped his head around to see what was the matter. Ryven had just blasted through a few trees and into a rock face. She screamed as she tried to get off the blast, but found it was too late when she was pummeled into the stone wall, falling face first onto the forest floor. Moaning, she laid there and attempted to gather herself, panting with her eyes squeezed shut. Across from her, Piccolo was looking at the sky, dropping his battle stance.

"I think that is enough for today," he said, looking at Ryven for a moment, concern flashing over his looks for a second or so. "It has grown dark."

Ryven panted and shook her head. "N-no...I can do more!" she pushed herself at arms length and used the wall to pull herself up, standing and wiping blood from her lip. She shivered a bit; rubbing her arm to keep warm as her face read total concentration. Piccolo frowned.

"Iie, that is enough for today." Piccolo's final words were law, and Ryven knew it. She bowed a little toward Piccolo in respect; an act that had become second nature for her to do after a training session. Piccolo nodded in aknowledgement, then, after casting another masked concerned glance at her, he bid her pleasant dreams, floating off into the darkening sky to meditate

Sighing, she slowly walked over to a clearing and began to make a fire pit, gathering rocks and kindling for a fire. Once the fire was made, she rummaged through her bag for something to eat, finally pulling out some bread and the little dried meat she had left. She chewed on the meat, looking up through the trees to the sky. She saw the clouds moving in fast, and the air smelled stronger with snow. Ryven pinched her brows as her breath floated up and disappeared in the firelight.

"Snow's coming. Tonight, most likely," she said to herself. "We need to find shelter tonight, Snowblind."

The wolf sneezed in reply. ~Yes, true. But where are we going to find some place to stay all the way out here?~

Ryven thought a moment. "I don"t know. Although, I think I saw some old shack not to far from here, some time ago."

~We don't have enough time to go traipsing about in the woods, looking for some little cottage.~

"Well, that's what we're going to do. Of course, we could just stay here and freeze under a blanket of snow." Ryven replied. Snowblind whined, but grudgingly agreed. Digging through her bag, she brought out a half used torch and lit it in the fire, setting it down between some rocks while she stood up stiffly and doused the fire.

~Of course, you know, we could be out looking for this place all night.~ Snowblind complained.

"What do you have to worry about? You can survive longer than I can without sleep. And you have a nice coat of warm, winter fur. I don't want to hear you complain." Ryven told him bitterly.

~It's not me that I'm worried about. If you freeze to death or get too tired, so do I.~ Snowblind told her.

"So basically you are thinking of yourself." She sighed. Snowblind didn't reply, but merely started looking about for what they were searching for.

They both walked lithely through the forest, barely disturbing a forest dweller's soul aside from her torch. Snowblind would run ahead and look while Ryven acted as a beacon for him, holding the steadily burning torch as it began to snow softly. The falling snow, however beautiful, began to worry her. They would feel the full brunt of the storm before too long, and so it was imperative that they find their shelter now.

As they walked on, the snowfall grew heavier and heavier, the flakes growing a bit larger and falling harder. White flakes fell past the firelight with gaining speed, the wind beginning to gain speed as well. After an hour, Ryven had to squint to see in front of her, the snowfall so heavy it was like a thick, cold fog. The torch was almost out, burnt down and threatening to blow out at any second and leave her in a blinding white wall of snow. Ryven called out mentally to her familiar, feeling the boundaries of their bond strained a bit. A faint call was received in reply, but it was far away, and almost incoherent.

"Snowblind!" she shouted into the woods, her voice rising a little in slight worry. Her bond was stretched again, causing her to fall onto her knees and clutch at her chest in pain. She called out to her familiar again, mentally and vocally, her voice cracking a little as another bout of pain racked her. She growled and pulled herself up on the tree next to her, dropping the torch to the snow covered ground and screaming for her familiar yet again. Upon receiving no answer, she shambled in one direction, hoping that at some point she'd come to a place where the hurting would stop. After a few steps she stopped dead in her tracks and cried out painfully, clutching at her chest again.

"Alright...definitely not that way..." she said to herself over the howling wind and snow. Walking another way, she tested the direction. Again, shooting agony knifed through her body, and she was forced to stop and take a few deeps breaths to make it all go away.

"Snowblind, where are you?!" her screams echoed and drove through the night...

***

Piccolo was meditating on a high cliff again; the same cliff where Ryven had gotten bashed into earlier that evening. The snowstorm around him was terrible, but he blocked it out as he rested in his peace of mind. The cold gales blew his cape around like a stray newspaper, the cloak itself making a ruckus all it's own. However, Piccolo didn't pay any mind, as he was deep in a meditative state.

In his meditations, he suddenly saw the form of his student, as she had appeared today before dismissing her. Her determined face, pale from the cold and bloody from the spar, set in stone, as she was emphatic about continuing. He admired that determination, even as it was fueled with thoughts of revenge and hate. He caught himself thinking fondly about her, and, pushing the warm thought from his head, he attempted to bury himself in the far reaches of his rational mind.

He was almost back into his state when he suddenly heard a voice call out urgently, the voice echoing in his head. He instantly recognized it as Ryven's voice, and the same telepathy she used to communicate with her familiar. As her call went out, another came in from Snowblind. Obviously, they were missing each other somehow, and couldn't get through to each other. Both calls sounded...pained.

Piccolo's eyes snapped open as he sensed something amiss in this great snowstorm.

Even if they were a distance apart, they should have been able to reach each other by their telepathy. Something is preventing them from doing so...

Piccolo stood up and rocketed into the storm, his aura bursting out around him, reading Ryven's ki signature until he found her in the forest, not too far away from a small, rickety cottage. She was lying on the ground against a tree, her cloak pulled tight around her, shivering, and nearly incoherent and clutching her chest weakly. Piccolo landed near her and walked the last few steps.

"Ryven..." he said, kneeling down next to the elf girl. He laid his hand on her forehead, frowning at how cold she was. At the feeling of his warmth Ryven opened her eyes momentarily, her teeth chattering.

"S-sensei," she murmured, the word slurred with cold.

"Young One, where is Snowblind?" he asked clearly, loudly. He feared she wasn't coherant. Ryven merely shook her head.

"Don't kn-now...somewhere..."

Piccolo nodded and looked about the area, still feeling as if something had gone terribly awry, aside from the emergency at hand. Stooping over a bit, he gently picked the girl up from the snowy ground and carried her the last twenty yards to the cabin, where they could get some measure of shelter. Kicking open the door, he walked into the musty cabin and investigated it. Upon finding it vacant, he set Ryven in front of the hearth. Piccolo broke a few chairs and stools that had been left behind and made a fire in the fireplace, setting the room all aglow with warm, rosy light. It was then he stood up and sent his own call out to the wolf.

~I know you are there somewhere. Now tell me where you are!~ Piccolo sent, almost angrily. He waited a moment, opening all channels. He didn't know what happened if familiars were separated, but he knew it couldn't be good.

~Piccolo? Is that you?~ It was Snowblind, Piccolo was doubly sure.

~Hai, it's me. Where the hell are you?~

~Coming back to find Ryven, because I had found the cabin she was talking about...I started to feel the pains, and I knew that we'd gone too far...but I couldn't get through to her.~ Snowblind told him, panting in his head. He was obviously running towards the cabin.

~Hai, I noticed. I heard both of you, but neither was responding ...just hurry back.~ With that, Piccolo broke the link and looked back toward the crackling fire. The elf girl's breaths were longer now, not as pain filled as before. She shivered still, but was slowly warming up as she slowly sat up and leaned against the wall, curling up and closing her eyes. Piccolo was just about to kneel down next to her when he suddenly flicked his eyes to the kicked in door, sensing an unfamiliar ki just outside. He stood up straighter, reading it for a few seconds longer, his brows pinched in thought.

This one feels ... strange. Familiar, yet not at the same time...

Ryven moaned and cracked open one eye. "It's him..." Piccolo whirled half way around to face her, giving her a questioning look. She groaned worriedly again and groped for her sword, sitting up semi straight against the wall.

"It's him..." she reiterated in a stronger voice, opening both eyes and pulling herself up against the wall. Piccolo suddenly understood and looked once more to the door, piecing things together at the last minute. He growled and narrowed his eyes.

"So, it was him all along..."

It was Ryven's turn to frown in confusion. "Huh...?"

"Stay here." He said flatly, leaving without giving Ryven any time to argue. Ryven stood against the wall, looking perplexed as she saw his white cloak disappear around the doorjamb and fade into the dark wall of falling snow.

***

Al'Thor himself stood alone in the woods, his eyes closed and feeling for the girl's energy. The trap he had set up for her was working rather well, and it wouldn't be long until he finally had her and her power in his clutches. So he stood as straight as the trees around him, his dark maroon cloak fluttering out around his gold hemmed black tunic and leggings. The gold circlet on his head shone through the snow with an eerie, unnatural glow, as his ruddy hair blew about his neck in a shoulder length ponytail.

Suddenly his thoughts were broken when he sensed something had gone awry with his plans. His eyes snapped open as he felt the block he had sent to the elf girl and her familiar break, letting forth all the mental sending in a flood. He could sense the two coming back together, their bonds slowly contracting as they drew near each other. Al'Thor growled in the back of his throat as his posture relaxed, letting him slump forward a bit as he punched a nearby tree.

"Bloody hell! I was so close this time!" the Elvin monarch grumbled to himself, his hand going to his forehead in thought and disappointment.

"Too close for my liking." A voice suddenly growled from behind him. Al'Thor didn't turn around, but merely kept his back to him and laughed softly to himself.

"I've known you were here for a while, Namek, but I'm surprised you waited so long to show yourself," replied the elf. Piccolo stepped out into the open, his own white cloak blowing in the winter gales. He stood stolidly against the snowy rages, his arms at his sides and his hands curled into loose fists.

"How did you know?"

"Such a stupid question coming from you. You surprise me."

"That's not what I meant, Elf. How did you know I was not from this world?"

Al'Thor smiled softly, arrogantly into the tree trunk, still not venturing to turn around just yet. "There are many things I know about you, Piccolo-Daimaou. That is who you are, am I correct? The Demon King?"

"Iie, that's not who I am."

"Well then, it's safe to assume that it was who you were." Al'Thor turned to face him now, his clothes flapping around his lean figure. "Because, like I said, I know much about you."

Piccolo raised an eyebrow, challenging him to reveal what he knew. Al'Thor raised his own in reply.

"I know that you come from a crumbling world. Something to do with unbalance of light and dark ki, yes?" he inquired quietly. "And you're here, looking for that balance."

Piccolo, however surprised, slowly nodded. Al'Thor smiled once again and crossed his arms, his breath being carried away by the howling wind in white puffs.

"I thought as much, but there's more to it, isn't there? Yes, there is, I can see it from here." Al'Thor thought aloud, slowly rising off the ground in a gentle float and circling him. Piccolo kept a vigilant eye on him, not letting him from his sight.

Al'Thor continued. "There's a personal aspect to this, isn't there? Ah yes, a lost loved one."

"I love no one."

"Ah, I think you lie, Namek." Al'Thor smiled almost playfully and winked his eye, pointing half-heartedly toward him. "I think that the one they call Son Gohan has passed on, leaving behind his mother and brother, correct? You can't bear to see them anymore without being reminded of him, can't you? Is that why you volunteered for this mission?"

Piccolo let out a growl, snarling at the man floating around him.

How can he know so much...? It's impossible...unless...

He suddenly tensed and whirled around, following the elf as he circled.

"I have heard enough!" Piccolo growled in a low voice, his words dripping with anger. He narrowed his eyes and watched the elf closer, boring holes into his head as the elf dared to continue his cocky orbit.

"Now why would I want to do that? I might have wanted to offer you aid! How can I turn away and not offer you help?" Al'Thor appeared to be mockingly insulted. "Why, I could help you with that nasty little ki unbalance problem you have!"

"You lie."

"Do I?"

"You merely want to get to the girl."

A soft grin touched Al'Thor's lips. "Perhaps. I've been after her for quite some time now, and it seems that you're the only obstacle that stands in my way. An agreement, perhaps?"

"No chance. Not with me."

"Why, you're developing a soft spot for her, aren't you? To replace Gohan, correct?"

Piccolo snarled frighteningly, then let his stony persona take over again. Al'Thor chuckled a bit and nodded, more to himself than to Piccolo. Still circling, he sensed Piccolo's sudden jump in power and took the defensive; ready for whatever the Namek would throw at him. But if he was to get the upper hand in this fight, he knew he would have to anger him to the point of incoherence, and, taking in consideration of the new information Al'Thor had just gotten, it wouldn't be very difficult at all.

"Ah, yes, it is just as I thought. How long did it take for her to latch onto you?" Al'Thor asked.

"Enough of your annoying prattle, if you are going to fight me, do so now, before kill you where you stand." Piccolo snapped crossly. Al'Thor laughed.

"You're going to protect that little half-breed? Why?" he sneered. "She's useless to you, just taking up your time and patience when you should be looking for a solution to your primary dilemma! But you know that already, don't you? Haven't you ever asked yourself, 'Why do I even care?"

"She is the solution to the primary dilemma."

Piccolo growled quietly.

"Ha! Her? Her power is pathetic. She couldn't even come close to anything you need, and you know it."

"There is more to Ryven than what meets the eye. Even a pathetic baka like you should be able to understand that."

"I can feel it, Namek. She's useless. She's nothing but a whiney, mooching, orphan. A good-for-nothing half breed who's shunned by her own people! How can you -you of all people, the Demon King!- associate with someone without a name?"

"Enough, Elf." Piccolo said in a low rumble, narrowing his eyes. Al'Thor smiled almost cockily. Suddenly, Piccolo burst out into a bright white aura, the snow falling around him melting or blown away. He floated above the steadily rising snow, his eyes narrowed and deep set in his cold face.

"Now, it's my turn." Al'Thor stated almost amiably, and shrugged off his cloak. His calm, fair face suddenly contorted as he began to power up as well, the snow swirling around him until his own brilliant, blood red aura erupted around him. But, just as Al'Thor finished Piccolo rocketed forward and laid a monstrous punch on the elf's cheek, sending him flying through many a tree trunk. Zanzoken-ing, Piccolo phased out and was suddenly in front of Al'Thor, pummeling him into the snowdrifts with high speed punches, with an eye beam finisher.

Al'Thor screamed in rage and blew Piccolo away from him with pure energy, the snow around him melting and slowly forming to thin ice in the cold weather. The elf flew toward the Namek at high speeds; his fist reared back and ready to strike. Piccolo put up his defensive at the last minute, completely blocking the blow and allowing for a powerful kick to the gut. Al'Thor recoiled, then gave Piccolo a roundhouse kick to the head, sending a large ki blast after him. Piccolo flew backward, but then came off the blast just in time to catch Al'Thor's surprise attack. The two engaged in an endless exchange of punches and kicks at insane speeds, blocking them and taking them in turn, moving so fast that the snow had no time to fall on either of their shoulders.

Al'Thor suddenly smiled, and Piccolo knew he was going to use a surprise attack, or something of the like. He suddenly let go of the elf and backed away, powering up for a counter attack to whatever Al'Thor was going to throw at him. Al'Thor raised both hands over his head, mumbling something rhythmic to himself as a light appeared over his head. Piccolo suddenly remembered that people did the same thing when they were-

"Chanting an incantation!" he finished aloud, but it was already too late. Al'Thor grinned widely and threw his hands in the Namek's direction, guiding the light with mere flicks of his wrists. Piccolo was suddenly thrown against an ancient, gargantuan spruce tree; unable to move with his arms held out at his sides like he was being crucified. Al'Thor laughed aloud, the hardy sound echoing off the trees and into the silence of the woods. Piccolo grunted and growled, straining his arms and legs to try and break free.

"Don't try it, Namek, it's hopeless!" the elf exclaimed. "You'll never break free of that spell! If you won't join my side, then I'll just have to bypass you. In other words, I'll do away with you right here and now!"

Piccolo snarled. "Not likely!" Al'Thor felt his power suddenly take leaps and bounds, and as it did the wind began to pick up and the snow stopped falling around the area. His aura burst out around him, the light more intense than the first time. The lighted bonds around his hands and feet faltered for a moment under the fierce power Piccolo was emanating, but only for a moment. Suddenly the bonds flared up and grew tighter, squeezing his wrists and ankles and burning into the skin. Piccolo's stone face contorted as it beaded out with sweat, biting back any cry of pain that might have been building in the back of his throat as he felt his power slowly being drained away. He powered up a little more, straining against the bonds with all he could muster, but the burning only grew worse, and his skin began to smoke. Finally he cried out and gave up, rapidly powering down until the bands around his hands and feet stopped throbbing and burning. Sweat ran down his brow as he cast a death glare at Al'Thor, who was merely watching with an amused look on his fair skinned face.

"If I were a rude man, I'd tell you 'I told you so,'" Al'Thor smiled, walking closer to where Piccolo was trapped. "But I'm not, so I'll just let you use your last few moments and dwell on that yourself."

Piccolo narrowed his eyes again and shot his eye-beams at Al'Thor, trying to deter a while longer, only to find that the slightest increase in power triggered the bonds to work their nasty magic, draining him and burning his body with increasing power. The elf laughed at him under his breath.

"Your plight is commendable, but it will do you no good," he stated. "It is not too late. Will you join my side, Piccolo the Demon King?"

Al'Thor smiled, but Piccolo merely smiled back and started laughing at him. Al'Thor's face wrinkled with confusion until he realized he was being mocked, and then he was merely angry. His face flushed red as he growled with rage, flying forward and punching Piccolo in the gut with a flaming fist.

"How dare you mock the Elvin Warlord Vortigaine Al'Thor! It will not be tolerated!" he shouted. In his fury he punched him over and over, finally letting lose a huge ki blast at point blank. Piccolo took all the blows with minimal screaming, knowing that this was all in vain, and that either way he and the girl were done for. But deep down he knew he had to keep trying...