Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Ranma Gets A Clue ❯ Revelations from the past ( Chapter 8 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Ranma 1/2 Fanfic "Ranma Gets a clue"
Written by Asayogure
First Draft (2/25/2000)
Last modified (6/17/2000)

Chapter 8, "Revelations from the past."

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Begin.
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The y were lost. The wind screamed in empty fury as it
tugged at their clothing - whipping it around as if it were
fighting an unseen battle, slicing through the many layers as if
they weren't even there, to chill their occupants to their
mortal bones.
The clouds in the angry sky broiled in ominous fury, barely
containing the awful storm fast approaching. Lightning struck
in the distance, and thunder rolled across the mountains. The
wind kicked up little dust motes along the dry rocky mountain
trail as it dove through the pass on its relentless passage
through time, forcing the slender shrubbery that grew along the
mountain pass to bend to its terrible will. The world was
coming to an end.
With their strength fast waning they stumbled through the
mountain pass, tripping over each other's feet and the smallest
obstacles, that normally they could have skipped over.
The captain of the guard grabbed the princess about her
waist as she started to stumble again, his chain mail armor
making swishing sounds with the speed of his motion.
"Just a little further your highness, once we reach the
valley in the Bayankala range we will be safe," he shouted
above the winds. The princess locked eyes with her captain
briefly, and gave a brief brave nod.
Straightening her back, she set off down the rocky mountain
trail once more, her long, silky black, hair shimmering as the
wind blew it all about her head and her hands pushed deep into
the tattered sleeves that had once been a beautiful royal gown.
The captain looked over his shoulder as the rear guard
crested the ridge they had just crossed. Only twenty men left,
but they were his best men, ten in the rear and the other ten
taking position at the vanguard.
All of them were combat veterans, many of them having fought
beside him in wars in the service of their king. The enemy
would come, there could be no doubt of that. They were
relentless. But he and his men would put up one hell of a fight
to protect their princess, to the last man, to the last ounce of
strength, to the last drop of blood. That was the oath they had
sworn above her cradle on the day of her birth, and so it would
come to pass.
So on they trekked. The minutes turned into hours and the
meters turned into kilometers, and they pressed on. The men of
the royal guard were fierce indeed, and those of the princess'
personal guard even more so. Clad in their battle armor, they
were not wearing the best of choices to be in this sort of
weather; yet to the eyes of the princess, they seemed almost
oblivious to the cold. Their muscles tensed and ready, eyes
roving back and forth across the barren landscape and hands
clenching chain mail guantlet clad fists tightly around sword
hilts. This day was not going to end well.
These men, these loyal men of hers, would scare the
princess to death with just the sight of them, had she not known
them since she was a child. They had been her personal guards
since the day she was born. She had played with all of them at
some time or another as she grew up. As a little girl the
princess had subjected them to the wiles of a young girl's
fancy, dressing them in strange hats and making them play
pretend and other such nonsense.
But if truth be told, she had not ever had to order any of
them to do anything for her. They would gladly suffer any
embarrassment for her, any pain. They loved her as if she was
their own daughter. Fiercely loyal to her, and only her, they
would follow her into hell itself without even looking back.
Having a hundred men thinking they are your father though
could be rather annoying. That many people thinking they know
what's best for you can be a bit of a drag when you are a
teenage girl. . . at least she used to have a hundred fathers .
. . the pain of her loss hit her again and she made herself
choke back the tears as she stumbled down the mountain trail.
At least they were going downhill now, she didn't know if she
could go uphill anymore.
The captain of the guard kept one step behind his princess
to her left, keeping his piercing blue eyes scanning the road
ahead of her, on the look out for any danger. Unlike the other
soldiers in this weary band, the captain was not carrying his
full gear, just his armor and his weapon. His servant, whom he
had been training in the ways of war, was with them, and he was
carrying the heavy pack filled with both his and the princess's
gear.
The boy was a strapping youth of sixteen summers. His
muscles strained and he grit his teeth with the burden, but he
did not complain and his step did not falter. This one would
grow up into quite a man. If he grew up.
Risking a backward glance, the captain took stock of the
rear guard and nodded approvingly at their efficient formation.
The princess would not be taken from behind with them on duty.
Nodding to the boy, the captain went back to scanning the trail.
Just a little further and he was pretty sure they would come
into the Jusenkyo valley. The general had always maintained
that that was the fall back point should the castle ever come
under siege. The captain hoped at least some of the troops had
survived the attack. The attack. Involuntarily he shuddered
and in a flash he was replaying the awful event over again in
his mind's eye.
They stormed the imperial palace in the middle of the night.
Their number uncertain, but even with a conservative guess, the
enemy's number was an easy five to one over those of the castle
defenders, that and the element of surprise gave them the upper
hand. Bristling with malice and flashing weapons, clad in black
leather and crimson battle mail, they came to destroy.
Even with seasoned troops manning the walls, their numbers
were just too great. With their terrible cries for blood, the
savages poured into then over the outer walls, forcing the
defending troops to fall back to the secondary wall. The
enemies' minor war mages blew holes through several points in
the wall for easier entry. And the call went through the castle
to rise in arms for battle.
Although the counter offensive had been quickly organized,
they had still managed to push the invading forces back through
the walls, when HE had appeared.
A hush had swept over the bloody battle field as he strode
towards the wall. Comrade and enemy alike froze in their tracks
at his appearance. Only one mage in the entire world would dare
to wear that symbol and carry that staff. Only one man was evil
enough and had the audacity to spit in the creator's face with
such a brazen display of disloyalty to the ways of the creator.
Huàide púrén - the servant of evil, had come.
The symbol of death itself was etched in black upon his
blood red robe, a circle with four smaller circles each touching
a part of the outside circle and two of their brethren. From
the center of the circle sprang four spires, each standing for
one of the major elements of life, barbed at their ends to take
life instead of give, and dripping from the bottom of this awful
inscription was the blood of all mankind. The symbol of Siwang
- death in it's most awful form. His blackened staff, said to
be carved from the charred bones of a thousand children killed
to appease his wicked masters, bore the same symbol atop its
knobby crest.
Many of his own men fled from his presence as he strode
toward the castle walls. Terrified and desperate, the castle
archers let loose a furious barrage of missiles. All of them
aimed at the most evil man in all the world. And to their
chagrin all of them dissolved on the mage's invisible shielding.
Mortal weapons could not touch this man. Panicked, the
defending linesmen sent out a call for the castle wizards, all
of them.
They came on feet enchanted with spells of speed and muscles
strengthened by fear. Their ancient wizened eyes beheld their
darkest enemy, and even as he began to chant their doom, they
resolved to try their best.
Simple spells were tried first, just in case the dark one
had forgotten to shield against them. Each mage took a turn at
trying simple spells such as stopping his heart, or freezing his
breath, encasing him in solid air. Their hands would glow red
or white casting haunting shadows upon their faces, and the
winds would come to their call and sparkles and odd noises
sprang up around them as they practiced their art in
desperation. Anything to stop him. It was no use. Their
spells bounced off the dark one's impressive shielding.
Elemental attacks came next. Depending on the strength of
the attack, any elemental creature could break through any
shield a mage might cast. The first and strongest wizard, the
High Wizard, called deep into the earth for his saving champion.
On bent knees he chanted raising his torso up and down in
sweeping motions as if a snake possessed him.
His hands glowed a subtle green and the glow began to spread
to his arms then beyond with a rising pitch in his voice the
High Wizard demanded his champion from the earth, and the earth
split in the semi-distant hills accompanied by the screaming of
the heavens, a creature made entirely of living rock and molten
metal broke free to the surface.
It was broken and craggy just as the earth was, and betwixt
those cracks one could see molten metal surging just under the
surface of it's awesome body. Just surfacing the creature
killed a good thousand of the enemy. Scrambling, the enemy fell
back. But the defenders did not rejoice. They were too
awestruck to even move.
The second wizard called to the heavens danced around in
concentric circles, arms outstretched and head thrown back
almost as if he were celebrating in joyous laughter. The
jumbled words not of this earth escaping his throat dispelled
any notion of that though. Louder and louder the mage called,
his hands began to glow white and sparks of white hot energy
began to dance with him as he called, and down from the cloud
swept sky came a creature of tightly packed wind and air, its
landing also killed a great many of the enemy soldiers. It
looked to be almost invisible. You could see right through it,
but it held the stature of a giant, and every now and then it's
body would swirl with the unpredictable patterns of the wind.
The last wizard, a junior wizard at that, called to the
water from which life sprang, it came from the springs and the
air, from the breath of his people and even the enemy. Standing
as if a rock unmoving in a mountain stream he chanted. His
hands glowed blue and his hair whipped about his face atop
currents of unnatural power.
In addition to the elemental powers he was summoning this
wizard also gave his spell some of his own life energy, draining
him of years he knew he would never see anyway. In the hopes
that it just might make his champion a little stronger. Flowing
together in the air above the battle field, the water creature
settled on the land behind the dark one.
It was a solid object, yet if one cared to look, one could
see the currents and eddies of water alive within the creature.
The servant of evil stood his ground surrounded by three of the
most powerful elemental creatures ever created by mankind, and
he showed no concern.
The dark one thrust his staff into the ground as he finished
his chant, and the very world seemed to bend and twist in
sickening waves of motion. Out of nothing, a rip in the very
fabric of reality formed and tearing through it with an awful
roar that shook all who witnessed it right down to their bones,
came a creature still talked about to this day. They called it
a Dragon.
The elemental creatures abode their master's wishes and
struck with the fury of the gods. Running or flowing towards
their mutual enemy they looked almost comical with their
disproportional bodies, if the gravity of the situation hadn't
been so serious many would have laughed out loud. At the same
time, the three wizards started to chant a bond spell, bonding
their life energy as one, for a final desperate blow.
The Dragon fought with incredible power and speed, using its
tail, wings and talons. But it took as well as it gave. The
earth creature cleaved its tail with a mighty swipe of his
unnatural hand. The air creature blinded the beast with blasts
of enchanted winds sharp as real daggers. And the water
creature encased its legs in a liquid gone solid, so that it
could not walk. Roaring as they fought the elemental creatures
made it sound like the earth itself was breaking apart.
Their battle rolled on, and thankfully away from the castle.
But to the horror of the defenders, the Dragon proved the
superior fighter. Slaying first the water creature it blasted
the ground with fires from it's maw more terrible than anything
mankind could imagine, charring its own legs in the process.
But also dispersing the water creature back to where it came
from. Using it's wings as scythes it cleft the air creature in
twain. Then it joined battle with the creature born of earth
and fire. Wrestling with it in a contest of pure strength. The
earth creature was as hard as the hardest rock, and fire would
only make it stronger. The earth creature might even have the
upper hand!
Their fighting was terrible. Even from the distance the
observers were, they could hear the terrible screams, and see
the destruction as the two monoliths crushed everything in their
path, villages, trees and even entire mountains! Eventually
getting the upper hand, the Dragon rolled the earth creature
into a mighty grapple. Squeezing with all its might the Dragon
finally forced enough pressure into the creature to crush it
into broken fragments. The sound of the implosion carried
across the land. Then the Dragon rose and started to walk back
towards the battle.
Finishing their life bonding chant, the two lesser wizards
locked eyes with their senior. With tears in their eyes, they
saluted him with staff to brow. Then each of them lay their
hands atop his head and with a single whispered word, let their
life energy and power flow into him. Once done, their now empty
mortal shells slumped to the ground and were still.
The High Wizard grieved for their loss, but was resolute in
the knowledge that soon he would be joining them in the next
plain of existence.
Turning on his heel with the awful strength of three to an
exponential level raging inside him, the wizard called the dark
one by name in a voice amplified by magical means loud enough to
shake the very earth.
"Huàide púrén I command you, cease that which thou hath
wrought." The dark mage did not even look up from the next
spell he was casting. Fire sprang into the old man's eyes then.
With righteous fury he called upon the gods to give him the
strength he desired.
He knelt in prayer right there on the bloody battlements
with arms outstretched to the heavens, beseeching deliverance
from this evil. With tears streaming down his face and soaking
his beard, a miracle happened. The heavens opened up and a beam
of the purest white light struck the enchanter through the
heart. With an in drawn gasp he toppled and lay still.
A great cry of anguish swept through the ranks of the
defenders, surely now all was lost. And as they nocked their
bows and drew their swords in preparation for one last mad
attempt to defend their home, they beheld a miracle. The earth
stilled and the air crackled and the wizard slowly began to rise
from the ground on unnatural flows of power, it was literally
streaming from him in sheets of energy.
About him sprang an aura of the most blinding white light,
tinged at the edges with a haunting blueish glow. Those who
dared to look upon him hurriedly looked away with stars flashing
across their vision.
With a great call for vengeance, the wizard thrust his cupped
hands before him as his mortal form cleared the crumbling
battlements of the castle, and from those hands struck a beam of
pure fury and vengeance. The powers of justice and protection
raged in him, and he drew on them hungrily. His heart beat
quickened and his breath slowed. He knew this would be his
final act upon this plain, and he prayed it would be enough.
The energy struck the dark one in mid-chant and dropped him
to his knees. Snarling, he looked up with new respect for this
wizard who dared to oppose him. Staggering under the might of
the life wizard's attack, he held up a hand through the pain and
caught the beam upon it. Then, whispering to the minions of
darkness he served, met the wizard's attacks with his own. A
stream of black tinged with ribbons of blood red sprang from his
palm, the dark one's eye flashed quicksilver and crimson.
Slowly the dark energy began to push the light back. The
two powers meeting caused the world to cry out in protest. The
earth shook and the seas raged. The winds tore through the
lands, and the people cowered in fear.
With a roar of fury and final resolve, the wizard threw his
life energy into the attack, a final assault. Damning the dark
one to eternal suffering, he poured his very soul into the beam,
and slowly, then with increasing speed, he began to push back
the dark energy.
With a look of surprise and a cry of outrage, the dark one's
attack fizzled and now unchecked, the light slammed into him
with a mighty thunder clap. The force of it threw the dark one
deep into the ground. The High Wizard's spell tearing a hole
the size of a tree trunk through the dark one's torso as it did
so. Muttering one final curse the dark one's grip on his staff
slacked and with it, thankfully, the Dragon vanished.
His task done and the dark one banished to the realm he sold
his soul to, the wizard turned and beheld his people, all of
them cheering their perceived victory. Outstretching his hands
he cast one final spell, a spell of the true heart. With it he
strengthened their resolve and cast away their fears. And then
bowing his head, the wizard whispered his final words and with a
brilliant flash disappeared from their plain.
The enemy soldiers' ranks had been decimated by the wizard's
battle, and now the odds were uncertain in the confusion set
upon them, but there were still a great deal more of them than
defending troops. But the invading force, broken and bloodied,
were not about to stop now, not with the royal palace before
them. Gathering their wits and their strength, they resumed
their siege.
As the remaining defending troops crashed into the wall of
the oncoming horde, the princess's personal guards created a
human wall before the entrance to her room. It would not be
long now, and this would be where they held their final stand.
Half of them were on the outside, and the other half on the
inside, with the door securely barred, by both magical and
physical means. The enemy wanted the throne, and they could
only have it if the immediate family line was gone. With the
High Wizard gone, his daughter, the princess, was next in line
to the throne. The enemy would be coming for her next.
Inside her room the princess railed against the walls and
cried out in a mixture of both pure fury and anguish. In the
depths of her misery, she even struck out at her beloved guards.
They did not even flinch. She demanded to be let out so that
she could avenge her father's death. She might be a minor mage
still, but she would take a great number of them with her. They
would not move. She ordered them to move, she begged them to
move. They would not. The captain of the guard stood behind
her at all times, his weapon drawn, and ready to shield her with
his own body.
Frustrated, she turned on him and slugged him in the face,
hard. The captain's vassal, a young man who had just happened
to be in the princess's wing when the attackers had struck, drew
a surprised breath in. No one had ever hit the captain. Ever.
The captain looked down at his beautiful princess with tears in
his eyes.
"My life is yours your highness, if you so desire. But I
cannot allow you to risk your life for this foolish revenge.
You are too important. Your people need you, we need you." He
added softly, choking on the words as emotion threatened to take
his control from him, the captain bowed to her awaiting her next
command.
Slumping in defeat, the princess sank slowly to the floor.
She would not cry. She would NOT. The captain stooped down and
scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing at all. He
knew that despite their best efforts they were about to be over
run. The men on the outside of the door were all going to die,
and the men inside were also going to die. And so was the
princess. But not by their filthy hands. When the moment came,
he would take her from behind. Quickly and painlessly. He
would not allow her to be subjected to whatever cruelties their
depraved minds would come up with if they managed to capture
her.
It was only a matter of time until the enemy came, and the
captain's heart was breaking. Duty, was heavier than a
mountain, death was lighter than a feather. Oh how he longed
for his feather. The enemy would come, and then he would do his
accursed duty, but not before he made some of them pay for what
he would have to do.
And the enemy did come. Despite their enchanted hearts and
their fearless attacks, the defenders just didn't have the
numbers in their favor. But they made the enemy pay for every
step of ground they gained. Boiling oil and trap doors in the
courtyard slowed a great many of the oncoming ranks, and the
archers would then decimate those not quick enough to scramble
for cover. Daring attacks and retreats by the infantry cost the
enemy a great number of men, yet they still came.
They poured into the imperial palace destroying anything and
anyone in their path. Each room was searched, and slowly they
made their way upward. When they finally entered the wing that
lead to the princess, they encountered the first of the real
resistance. Soldiers and servants alike manned the halls
leading to her tower. They loved their princess, and even the
lowliest peasant would fight to the death for her. They had
barricaded themselves behind overturned tables and chairs,
archers and pike men at the ready. The surprise of the
viciousness of their defense and poor organization cost the
enemy dearly, the defenders managed to wipe out three waves of
the advancing enemy.
But that was not enough. The enemy centered their force on
the resistance's location, believing they had found her at last.
A battle wedge was formed, and, with the shield bearers
surrounding them, the pike men and archers allowed their shock
troops to make short work of the rag tag groups.
The captain of the guard cocked his head as the first sounds
of close combat reached them from downstairs, as he sat the
princess down upon her bed. Steeling himself for what was to
come next he shouted an encouragement to the troops about to
die.
"For the princess!" He cried and was promptly answered from
outside with the same call. Then, stamping their feet and
smashing shield to sword hilt, they began to sing.
"We shall not fail.
We shall not stop.
We'll shed our blood to the last drop!
For the princess!
For the princess!
Press on to death if thou desire.
We are not afraid.
To the last man we stand, our hearts are burning fires.
For the princess!
For the princess!
No surrender! No defeat!
No mercy or quarter shalt thou receive!
Press on to thy death we shalt not grieve!
For the princess!
For the princess!"
That was the sound that met the enemy as they made their way
up the tower. And were promptly slaughtered. The guards sang
as they hacked and stabbed. They fought in teams and accepted
no surrender, gave no mercy. The first wave defeated, they sang
louder still, and the guards on the inside sang with them.
Yet on they came, the enemy seemed mindless in their
advance. For every guard they managed to kill they lost ten of
their number. With each defending man slain, the princess's
guards would simply close ranks and continue singing. When a
wave was over the guards stacked the bodies of their fallen
comrades and the enemy alike as a barrier down the hall way.
The next wave had to clear it to get to them, and the rear rank
of the guards would reward them with showers of arrows for their
efforts. And still they sang.
The minutes stretched into hours and the battle outside her
door raged on. The princess was losing her mind. Her guards.
Her fathers! Were dying for her, and there was nothing she
could do. This was all HIS fault. If the dark one had just
left them alone none of this would be happening. Clenching her
hands into fists she wondered how the enemy had managed to get
so close to the castle walls without an alarm going up in the
first place. Giving her mind something to think about helped
her keep her sanity as the battle raged outside her door.
On they came, the enemy, if they had any brains, only had to
barricade themselves around the tower and wait. They were not
equipped to withstand a war of attrition. But with simple
minded efficiency, they pressed on up the tower, stepping on the
broken bodies of friend and foe alike in their mad quest to be
the one to capture the princess.
Then they came. The blood snake troops. Members of the
enemies' elite vanguard. Each man wearing a silver tunic under
a crimson chain mail shirt, black leather and silver gauntlets.
Each man had a circle with the four barbed spires tattooed on
his left forearm, to proclaim his allegiance. Not the full
symbol the dark one had worn, for even these men did not wish
the wrath of the creator upon them.
Charging up the tower, they screamed for battle. And the
defending guards knew this would be their last stand. So they
sang louder, and smiled in the face of death.
These were no ordinary troops. They did not break rank and
scramble upon clashing with the royal guardsmen. Efficient and
disciplined, they fought in close quarters. Two to a man if
possible. And the royal guardsmen started to fall. But they
took a great many of the enemy with them.
And then after a long while the singing stopped and all was
quiet for a short while. Then the resounding clang of a
battering ram sounded through the door. The room's magical
defenses were activated. With a whooshing sound the hallway
directly outside the door blossomed into scorching flames that
burned hotter than the hottest fire upon human flesh, yet left
the hall untouched. And thus the end of this contingent of
blood snakes came about.
A temporary quiet settled over the castle. But it only
lasted for a few minutes. From down the hallway they heard the
chanting of mages concert. Obviously at least one or two of the
minor war mages had survived the great battle, and had been
summoned to breach the magical barriers upon the princess's
door. After a long while the chanting stopped and footsteps
could be heard approaching the chamber. A single tap was heard
through the door, then the wizard called the all clear.
And the crashing of the battering ram started again.
Apparently the minor war mages were better than most thought.
This was it. It was almost over. The enemy would win, but this
last group would not survive. Each guard swore that to himself
as they drew their swords and nocked their bows. And they began
to stamp their feet and slam their hilts to shields, and they
began to sing.
The enemy would pay dearly to gain entrance to this room.
The captain picked the princess up and carried her to the room's
furthest corner. With her safely behind him, backed against the
walls, he stood ready to do his duty.
The crystal! Clarity flooded the princess's mind as she
remembered. Her father had given it to her at the age of six,
and bade her wear it at all times.

"Use this crystal my darling if ever you are in danger and
need to get away fast. It will take you to someplace safe."

He had then told her the magical words to use to activate
the crystal's hidden powers, and made her practice them daily
until he was satisfied she remembered them.
The door started to crack. The enemy added to the
destruction with battle axes and war hammers. Desperate, the
princess kicked the captain's knees out from behind him and
lunged for her dresser. Scrambling, the captain was up in an
instant.
"My princess, you must stay behind me . . ." He began to
shout, and then all hell broke loose. With a groan of
splintered wood, the door caved inward and the enemy poured in,
blood lust in their eyes and hatred in their veins. Reaching
her dresser, the princess threw the topmost drawer open and
clutched the hand sized crystal to her. Then began the chant.
Mad with fear for his princess, the captain just barely reached
her before an enemy soldier reached for her.
Slamming his fist into the man's throat and crushing his
windpipe he sent the mad skittering across the floor writhing in
agony and choking on his own blood and bile, the captain took up
station in front of her. Somehow four more men broke through
the defending lines. And they rushed him. The captain took two
of their heads off with a single sword swipe, then got tackled.
Dropping his sword, he grabbed both their necks and dropped into
a roll going with their momentum, and twisted as he kicked them
up and over himself. Their necks made sickening crunching
sounds as they snapped.
Dazed but resolute, the captain gathered his wits and weapon
and cried out to his singing troops, "rally on the princess! To
the princess! Rally on the princess! Fall back!" The
guardsmen closed ranks and fell back to the rear center of the
room. Fighting shoulder to shoulder, the bloodshed was
incredible. For every guardsman down a score of the enemy went
with him. The guardsmen fought as men possessed. Fear for
their princess drove them on.
With his human shield in place, the captain clutched his
beloved princess to him as she continued her chant. Tears
streaming down his face, he allowed himself a few seconds to
weep at the injustice of it all. To cry for his little girl.
For innocence lost. Burying his face in the hair about her
neck, he drew his dagger from his belt. And whispered his
apology to her as he tried to choke back the grief.
"I am sorry my princess, we have failed you . . ." And he
began to bring the knife to bear at the base of her neck. Quick
and painless. . . And with a scream the princess shouted the
final word of the incantation. And the world froze in icy
detail.
Blinding white light flashed out from the crystal. It
permeated every living being in the room. The power of the
crystal was incredible. Made with a father's love for his
daughter for the purpose of protection, it did just that. The
crystal judged each man's heart in a fraction of an instant and
struck dead all those who would harm her. Then with a flash,
the crystal exploded into what felt to the princess like
feathers. Swirling around the room, the powers of the crystal
gathered up all those living who were loyal to the princess and
in the wink of an eye they were all standing in the mountains of
the Bayankala range.
Trembling, the captain pulled back his dagger and dropped it
as if it were afire. They had been saved. Delivered from the
clutches of evil! Rejoicing, the captain wept openly and fell
back on the packed earth with his princess in his arms and
laughed as he clutched her to his breast. A great cheer went up
from the remaining guards as they all gathered around to kiss
their princess and rest for a second. The party turned serious
almost instantly though as the reality of their situation dawned
on them.
From their vantage point, they could see the battle still
raging in the castle far below them. They were not safe yet.
Standing, the captain picked up the princess in his arms as if
she were an infant. She smiled weakly from her perch.
The Captain Barked orders to the remaining guardsmen to take
up marching positions, and they set off down to the Jusenkyo
valley, and hopefully the garrison of troops stationed there.
The captain left the dagger laying in the dirt. He had no
intention of touching it ever again.

Snapping back to reality, the captain's heart soared as they
crested the next ridge. There it was, the Jusenkyo valley.
Safety. The captain called for a double step and picked up the
princess again.
They stormed eagerly into the open of the valley, looking
for friendly faces. They saw nothing. Crestfallen, the last of
the royal guardsmen took up station around the captain and the
princess.
This didn't feel right . . . The wind smelled wrong and the
earth was sending warning signals into the seasoned veins of the
men. This felt like an . . . ambush. The captain was about to
give the order to find cover when they stepped out from around
them.
Imperial troops. At least a division. But they weren't
smiling, and they did not salute the captain as they should
have. Laughing, the general made his way through their ranks.
Smirking, he sauntered over towards the band. Wisely he stopped
out of weapons range as he regarded them. That they had made it
this far despite all the odds was amazing. That they had the
princess with them was simply incredible. He would have to put
them in for medals. Awarded posthumously of course.
"General . . . I am glad to see your troops haven't suffered
any losses. Would you like my help organizing a counter
offensive against the enemy laying siege to the castle now
general?" The captain glared as he set the princess down behind
him. She was no fool. She knew as well as the captain did that
this was no friendly welcome. Softly she started to chant a war
spell.
"Ah captain, I am afraid I cannot accept your offer. As you
see, I am afraid you and I are not on the same side of this
particular campaign. Mores to pity, you are certainly the best
swordsman I have laid eyes on in decades . . . No, I am sorry
to say that I must place you all under arrest as prisoners of
war. Kindly stand down and surrender your weapons, and I
promise your executions will be quick and painless. . ." The
general almost looked hopeful as he said this.
The captain smiled as he drew his sword straight up in the
air. Lightning struck then in the hills, and its brilliance
flashed over the weapon's surface. With thunder rolling over
the mountains, the captain drew the hilt down so the cross guard
was just below his eyes, in a salute to the general he had once
known. The man that he had fought beside many times in days
gone by. Not the traitorous bastard that stood before him now.
The captain screamed the battle call, "For the princess!!" His
men answered him with drawn blades of their own, ringing out in
the soon-to-be night air. Even the captain's vassal dropped his
pack and unlimbered a rather wicked looking war hammer. And
they began to sing.
Nodding, the general signaled the attack. The traitorous
troops, once loyal to the same High King, charged in from all
directions. There would be no magic crystal this time, no magic
walls or reinforced doors. Fate had caught up to them, and it
was time to fight or die. And they sang as they fought.
Her chant reaching a crescendo, the princess suddenly shot
up straight onto her tip-toes and stretched her arms heavenward,
palms up and fingers spread, calling to the heavens for the
power to save them. Lightning struck her outstretched hands,
once, then twice, then over and over again. With each jolt the
princess swayed a little bit, but seemed to suck the energy into
herself almost instantly.
Startled, the advancing troops slowed to a trot then a walk
as the lightning continued to strike her. They had not signed
up to fight a mage, even a minor one. Slowly their ranks
stopped, and then started to back up, then showing their lack of
discipline and true colors, they broke into a full out retreat,
the guardsmen could almost see their tails betwixt their legs as
they ran, and they laughed merrily. As the lightning continued
to strike the princess's outstretched hands. Her guards closed
ranks about her, their backs to her. They didn't know what she
was doing but whatever it was, it was causing the traitors to
turn tail and run!
Then the princess screamed a battle cry of fury and pent-up
rage. Lowering her hands to her sides, her head dipped and her
shoulders slumped. She stood like that for a moment or two.
Then started to laugh. Almost an insane laugh. Then violently
raising her head, she damned her traitorous soldiers to eternal
suffering as she called for the release of her power.
Flinging her arms out from side to side like she was shaking
out a rug that needed dusting, she sent streams of electrical
energy into the ranks of her once loyal troops. The power
rolled from her like the waves of the sea. It passed through
her guards harmlessly, but on contact with the others, blasted
them from their feet, hurling them meters back, and ripped their
mortal shells to pieces.
The princess continued to rant as she cast her terrible
vengeance. Cursing these men and the greed that drove them, for
the lives they had destroyed. After what seemed like an
eternity, she slowed, then stopped. And suddenly the valley was
silent. Slowly starting to relax, the men of her guard dared to
think it was over, that they had been delivered yet again.
Then they heard an odd noise. Clapping? A short distance
away a sinister looking man swathed in black strode out of a
hidden cave's entrance, brushing back the vines that covered it
as he clapped. Behind him marched members of the blood snake
guard, and above them all shimmered a very powerful magical
shield.
The man was tall and wore a traveling cloak askew over his
left shoulder, clasped at his throat with a symbol of a silver
dagger and on his forearm was burned the symbol of the dark one,
minus the blood. Another dark mage in training? The man walked
through the chill winds in his light clothing, yet did not
shiver, nor did his cloak, though the wind was brisk. His hair
was disheveled and his knee-high boots were muddy. He was
smiling, but the smile made the princess nervous. He stopped
out of weapons range, but close enough so that she could smell
him. He smelt of dried tree bark and looked to live a rough
life, his muscular build and callused hands suggested he was
adept in the fighting arts as well as the magical ones.
"Very good your majesty." The man sneered. "You wiped them
out. You made my job a little easier. Traitors can never be
trusted, they are only useful for so long then . . ." The man
trailed off as he ran a finger across his throat. The thought
that she had done anything to help this man made shivers run
down her spine.
"Now if you would be so kind as to order your guards to
stand down, I would like to invite you to join me in the cave to
discuss the terms of your surrender. I am being quite generous
am I not?" The man smirked and turned on his heel, walking back
towards the cave seeming quite pleased with himself.
"I will not." The princess said quietly but firmly. The
man in black stopped in mid-stride.
Sighing the man's shoulder seemed to slump a little. "Very
well, we can do things the hard way too." The man said
nonchalantly over his shoulder. "I am sure the blood snakes
would like a chance to spar with your men. Rest assured your
magic will not harm them, they are quite safe."
Scowling, the princess started to chant an elemental spell
she had heard her father practicing once. At the same time the
man in black started to chant his own elemental spell, but
before he did so he uttered a single command, "go."
The blood snakes leapt into action. And the royal guard
began to sing again. They fought back to back and met the
snakes on their own terms. They were outnumbered, but not out
classed.
And the battle was joined. The two magic users stood
untouched in the center of the chaos, each intent on killing the
other. Finishing her chant first, the princess screamed the
final word and clapped her hands together, then drew them apart
as a brilliant sword of wind, fire and ice was formed. It
looked the color of quicksilver, even the hilt looked to be made
from the same material, yet it flashed from blue to crimson back
to quicksilver in a most unnatural way. It was light as a
feather and as destructive as the gods themselves, she tapped
her captain on the shoulder and gave it to him, and with tears
running down her cheeks lifted herself up to her tiptoes and
kissed him on the cheek.
"Do not fail me captain." Was all she said. It was enough.
Nodding, the captain jerked his vassal back from the ranks and
placed him squarely in front of the princess, there would be no
closed ranks this time. The vassal set his shoulders and
waited.
Without another second lost, the captain dashed through the
fighting men. Holding the sword blade out and tip up as he
charged, praying it harmed only those of evil intent, but
without the luxury of being able to stop and find out, he
charged through the lines, on a direct course for the man in
black.
Thankfully his prayers were answered as he cut through the
lines and blood snakes lost limbs and heads, and guardsmen
suddenly found themselves without an opponent to fight. The
captain leapt over broken bodies and spun around clumsy sword
swipes.
Screaming, he reached the man in black, and charged right
through his shield, the sword ripping though it as if it were
made of silk. At the same time, the dark mage finished his
spell and clasped his forearms together, drawing them back he
held a quarter staff that was blacker than black. It glowed
with energy as evil as its owner, yet seemed to suck all
available light into itself. And they clashed.
This mage was as good at the fighting arts as the captain
was. Or better. Each swipe of the captain's sword met empty
air or rang against the mage's staff. They circled each other
viciously, and each of them took as well as they gave. The
captain managed to glancing blow to the mage's shoulder, but it
cost him a cracked rib to do so. Round and round they went,
with neither man seeming to be able to find the other's
weakness.
With her final strength the princess cast one more spell, a
trick really. One that had fascinated her as a little girl.
She cast a light butterfly spell in the dark wizard's face.
Startled and temporarily blinded the dark mage lowered his guard
for just an instant to disperse the spell. But it was an
instant to long. With a hissing sound of that which is good
meeting that which is evil, the captain drove his sword through
the mage's heart.
Looking down stunned, the dark mage cast one final spell, a
spell of freezing breath. Surprise etched the captain's face as
he slowly started to sink to his knees with the dark mage,
choking for breath. As he lay dying on the uncaring earth the
clouds finally broke and let loose the rains of the damned.
Seeing her captain dying, the princess pushed herself further
than she knew she could go. Channeling her own life force into
the spell she cast the life's breath spell on him. Then blacked
out.
The captain's vassal heard her hit the ground behind him,
but was presently engaged with two rather cranky blood snakes,
and could not turn to aide her.
As breath returned to his lips the captain's head cleared,
and slowly he rose as he managed to prop himself up on one
elbow. To see the end of the world. There were only two
guardsmen left. And at least twenty blood snakes left.
Cackling their victory, the snakes closed in, two of them rushed
his vassal, he fought valiantly but as another two crashed into
him he fell. A quick scramble and he lay still on the valley
floor. The valley that was supposed to have been their
salvation. The irony was disgusting. This valley was nothing
if not cursed!
The last two guardsmen didn't even have the strength left to
sing as they fought. Back to back, they managed to hold them
off a little longer, but in a short while the only ones left
standing were blood snakes.
They leered at the princess as they picked her up, the
captain knew what they had in mind for next, and the captain
went cold. It was over. He had to do SOMETHING! Exhausted, he
pulled himself up to his knees, and crawled forward. His
fingertips brushed something cold and taught. Looking down
briefly, he saw a bow with an arrow still slightly nocked laying
in the earth fast turning to mud. Desperate he lunged for it.
They hauled her to her feet and slapped her awake. The
princess awoke instantly and to her credit she did not cry out.
Nodding to themselves the snakes lowered her back to her knees.
They planned on enjoying this.
The captain drew the shaft back tight against his cheek, and
prayed his shot would be true. Begging the princess's
forgiveness he closed his eyes and let the arrow loose. At the
same instant a gust of wind whisked through the valley and
caught the arrow on a rising current.
It struck the princess, just above her heart. Gasping, she
looked to her captain in surprise as her life started to bleed
out of her.
Enraged snakes turned and rushed for the captain. As they
came for him he managed to rise to his knees, his torso straight
in the air, he saluted his princess. Then hardened his gaze as
they came for him. He did not close his eyes this time.
As they slaughtered her captain the princess's last vestige
of control left her. Heartsick and enraged, she knelt in silent
prayer for vengeance. Magic was to blame for this day, magic
was to blame for all of it. Her father, her people, her
guardsmen. . . they had all died this day due to magic. And she
cursed it. Begging the heavens with her final strength, she
pleaded for the destruction of magic in this world, to wrest the
reins of magic out of the inept hands of irresponsible mortals.
This world was not ready for magic yet. . . take it back . . .
and slowly the princess slumped into the ground. Surprisingly
she felt no pain, only a warm glowing feeling . . .
And the heavens opened once again that fateful day, and a
brilliant beam of the purest white did strike that young
princess through her heart. However she did not rise again like
her father. The glow permeated her entire body, then with an
awful sound, a howling screech as terrible as this day had been
the light left her, shooting out in rays as sharp as razors.
They cut down the remaining blood snakes, then into the very
walls of the valley itself, sealing it's trails and passes for
centuries to come.
And as the blood of the princess and her guardsmen slowly
mixed with that of the rain waters, and gathered into the
shallow puddles on the Jusenkyo valley floor, the princess's
wish was granted, and all the magic in the world started to
drain into those same puddles. Wiping all record of its
existence from the face of the earth as it went.
Hours later as the rains died down, a single figure moaned
on that bloody battlefield. The captain's vassal, wounded but
not dead, lifted himself up on arms strengthened with
determination. Slowly he stood and surveyed the carnage, and he
wept for the world and his princess. Then, a great while later,
he began the grisly task of burying their dead. The enemy he
left to rot in the wind.
When that was finished he left the valley, and found himself
a nice quiet cave far into the mountains, and there he began to
write, a record of what had come to pass, so that one day, if it
should ever be needed, the knowledge of what had happened there
on that day would be available. At his side in the candle
light, as he wrote, gleamed the elemental sword wrought by the
princess's own hands.

With a crash of thunder Dr. Tofu snapped awake.
Disoriented, he quickly scanned the room for the source of the
danger. Getting ready to call for the guards. . . as reality
sank in however the doctor slumped back against the couch,
drained of all stamina.
Looking over his shoulder, he checked the rise and fall of
Kasumi's breast. Her breathing was stable and her color looked
fine. Glancing back around the room, the doctor's eyes settled
on the window, and the furious storm sweeping across Nerima.
The lightning flashed and the winds howled, and the thunder
rumbled.
"What in the world. . ." The doctor muttered aloud. He
had never had a dream so real before, so vivid. It was almost
as if he was experiencing those events through the eyes of those
whom had actually been there. But that was . . . impossible . .
. wasn't it? And the more the doctor thought about it, the
colder he felt. This was not good, not good at all.

_______________________________________________________
E nd.

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