Ryuu no Hikou, Chapter 3

[Goldilocks]

Chapter 3

Relena turned from the parapet, her frustration with the surly dragon-rider momentarily forgotten. "He's back?!" she said, her voice teetering between excited relief and anxiousness. Finally, perhaps they would be able to decipher the Oracle's cryptic words!

The guard bowed low. "We have just spotted him. His apprentice is with him. They shall reach the castle within the hour."

Relena nodded. "Take me to the courtyard," she said. "I want to be there when they arrive." She looked around, trying to locate Heero, but he was already gone. She was startled by this. How had he slipped past her notice so easily? The only doorway off of the parapet was behind the guard; it had been in her line of vision the entire time, yet she had not seen him leave.

But instead of discouraging Relena, the enigma of the youth only piqued her curiosity. She silently vowed to learn more about him, then dedicated her attention to the matters at hand as the guard lead her down and away from the parapet.


By the time Relena and the guard reached the ground level, the hallways of the castle were thronged with people. Scholars, guards, courtiers and servants all pressed toward the courtyard, anxious to greet the Watcher and his apprentice. But when they saw Relena, the waves of people magically parted and let her pass through to the front.

Relena stopped when she reached the courtyard, standing near the open portcullis. She looked through the gateway and could see the cloud of dust kicked up by the hooves of the horses. Soon, two bobbing heads appeared out of the cloud, which subsequently materialized into bodies, their riders hunched over the horses' shoulders. The earth thudded dully with the sounds of their footfalls.

The horses tore across the promenade and into the courtyard before being reined in by their riders. Immediately, livery servants from the stables darted forward and took hold of the horses' bridles as their riders jumped from the saddles. Relena took careful note of the horses? condition. The beasts were at the very edge of exhaustion. Their sides heaved and their limbs trembled, and it appeared that if they had been ridden for not five minutes more, they would have collapsed from exhaustion, never to run again.

The weary beasts were lead carefully away from the courtyard to be cared for, and all attention was turned to their riders. The two figures looked equally as worn and haggard as their mounts, but since they had been riding and not running, they seemed a little better for wear. Relena glanced across the half-circle of people that cupped around the open gateway, and noticed that the dragon-riders had clustered in one spot, watching the events curiously.

Relena stepped forward, and one of the figures also stepped forward to meet her. He threw back the hood of his traveling cloak, revealing a face lined by age, wisdom and laughter. He bowed low, then rose, his eyes meeting her gaze.

"We have returned to Calon Gaer, Your Highness," he said gravely. "Is it true that the Oracle has spoken?"

Relena inclined her head. "I would not have taken you from your sojourn for any other reason," she replied solemnly.

Noventa processed this information with a thoughtful expression on his face. "After all these years," he murmured, and for a moment seemed lost in thought. But then he straightened. "Your Highness," he said reverently, "I will wish to go with the scholars as quickly as possible to see the Oracle. But we have been riding hard for several days now, and our journey has severely tested our stamina. If we could have some time to rest, bathe, and have a proper meal...?"

Relena inclined her head gracefully. "Of course," she said graciously. "It is completely within reason that you would wish for a moment to compose yourself before going before the Oracle. I will see to it that rooms are prepared for yourself and your apprentice--"

But before Relena could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by a long, drawn-out squeal.

"TROWWWWAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

A blur launched itself from behind the Watcher. Its hood fell back to reveal thick, auburn-colored curls. The blur was headed directly for the dragon-riders...or rather, one rider in particular. It singled him out, making a beeline toward him, then seemed to leap into the air and come crashing down on the lanky youth. Somehow, he managed to stay upright under the stress of impact, even embracing the figure who had seemingly attacked him.

"Trowa! You're here! I knew you'd be here, as soon as I found out we were coming home! What did Mother and Father say? How long have you been here? How did you find out? Who else knows? Do Mother and Father know? Why are you..." She continued to rattle off questions. The other riders stood back and watched, amazed.

Trowa sighed good-naturedly and put his hands on the young woman's shoulders. "Cathy," he said patiently, "please, calm down. People are staring."

Cathrine huffed at him. "Fine. I haven't seen you in--Who knows how long?--and the only thing you can think to do is tell me that people are staring?! I've missed you!" She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

Trowa shook his head slightly. "I've missed you, too. But there's no need to make a scene."

Cathrine gave Trowa an appraising look. "Since when are you old enough to tell me what to do?" she said impishly, then grinned. "But I am happy to see you. Where's your dragon?"

"Heavyarms is resting in my room."

"This is...your sister?" Quatre finally asked timidly, as though uncertain whether he wanted to know the answer or not.

Trowa turned to face Quatre. "Yes," he said. "This is my sister, Cathrine. She's the Watcher's apprentice." Cathrine curtsied as best she could in her traveling cloaks. When she stood up straight, she covered her mouth with one hand to block a large yawn.

"You're tired, Cathy. Go get some rest. We'll be able to catch up later." Trowa's tone didn't offer alternatives.

Cathrine nodded, then looked around. "Looks like Master Noventa has already left to find his quarters," she said contemplatively. ?I?ll admit that I?m rather tired, myself. If you?ll excuse me?? She smiled cheerily at Trowa and Quatre, then turned to follow the servant that had seemingly materialized at her shoulder to lead her to her quarters.

Trowa and Quatre watched her leave. Quatre heaved a contemplative breath, and without turning to look at Trowa, started speaking.

?You know, it really is true?sisters are pretty much the same, no matter where you travel or who you know.?

* * *

Parth surveyed the land as he flew back to the castle. His hunting had been successful, and he had fed well. He had gone riderless for his hunting trip; though Quatre understood that he needed to do this as a carnivore to survive, he often couldn?t handle sitting through very many of Parth?s hunting sessions.

As he approached the cliff that housed the castle, Parth could see that the other dragons had left the catacombs to hunt, as well. He spotted Heavyarms feeding near the edge of the cliff. The copper dragon raised her head as he drew near, acknowledging his presence.

Parth landed near the other dragon, folding his wings carefully and walking over to where she sat. ?I see your hunting was successful, as well,? he said in greeting.

Heavyarms nodded and tore another bite free from the carcass at her feet. ?The land here is very good for hunting,? she said after swallowing. ?I can see why they chose this spot for the castle.?

?I heard that the King had commissioned gamekeepers to make sure the herds of wild beasts remain healthy and full,? commented Parth. ?This is also to keep the dragons from attacking the herd beasts kept for the people of the castle.?

Heavyarms sat back on her haunches and smiled beatifically. ?Mmm?what I wouldn?t give for a nice side of beef?.?

Parth smiled indulgently and shook his head. ?What about the other dragons? Are they all out hunting right now??

?I just saw Nataku a little while ago. She had spotted a herd of elk, and was singling one out for a target. Wing left a long time ago. I haven?t seen him since.? She paused, cocking her head thoughtfully to the side. ?I haven?t seen the Maguanac corps for a long time, though??

Parth shook his head. ?I know where they are. They left yesterday on a hunting trip.? He chuckled. ?If they hunted here, the herds would be decimated within a month. They always take trips as far away from the area as possible, and never choose the same place twice. It keeps the herds healthy. They?ll also eat fish, if they can get it.?

?Fish are hard to catch,? commented Heavyarms. ?I don?t know of many dragons that can catch them?? A sharp, bright flash caught their eyes, and they both turned to look down into the canyon. Deathscythe was flying there, his lithe form darting along the surface of the river. Occasionally his long neck would snake out, and he?d snatch a fish from the churning waters. The mercury dragon would barely pause to gulp down the fish whole before streaking off to another part of the river for more quarry.

Heavyarms made a sour face. ?Show-off,? she said desultorily, and Parth laughed.

A pause stretched between the two dragons as Heavyarms returned to her feeding and Parth watched Deathscythe?s aerial acrobatics on the river. Finally the copper dragon finished her meal, licking her chops and kicking dirt over the remains of the deer she had been eating. She stretched luxuriously, then spread out along the ground to bask.

Parth looked over his shoulder at her. ?What do you think?of all of this? What will happen, now that the Watcher has returned??

Heavyarms contemplated this for a moment. ?They will interpret the words of the Oracle,? she said thoughtfully. ?But I don?t know what will happen, beyond that. What will be expected of us. Who we will have to fight.?

?Do you think it will come to that? A fight, I mean. Will it come to that??

?I hope so.? Heavyarms examined the talons of one forepaw idly, running them through the dirt to clean them. ?It would be boring if we didn?t get to fight.?

?Hum, if you say so,? replied Parth. Before he could say more, they were interrupted by a short, barking roar, and the flap of braking wings. Nataku landed on the ground a short distance away, and waddled toward their resting place.

Parth raised his head in greeting. ?How was the hunt??

Nataku shook her head, her mane settling along her neck. ?It was productive,? she replied, settling down next to Heavyarms. ?The herds here are exquisite; energetic and fast, and the flesh is almost sweet.? She yawned hugely, her tongue curling. ?Did I interrupt something??

Heavyarms shook her head. ?We were discussing the Oracle.?

?The Oracle,? said Nataku, her eyes closing as she slipped into deep thought. ?I am glad that the Watcher has returned. It is not good for us to be here for so long without purpose. There must be a reason for our being here.?

?But to fight, just for that purpose?? Parth sounded troubled.

?Not all battles are physical,? replied Nataku. ?We may have to fight battles of the will. We might be confronted by other evils, other challenges. We might have to rely on our wits rather than our strength.?

?Well, I for one hope that we can rely on our strength at least once,? said Heavyarms indulgently. ?I?ve been fixing for a good fight since we got here. I was happy when we got the summons here.?

?I would have been just as happy to not fight, but I will not deny that it is exciting to be able to fulfill my destiny as part of the Pact,? said Parth. Nataku nodded in agreement.

?We were predestined to be a part of this history since our hatching,? she commented. ?Now, we have been given the chance to fulfill our destiny as has been foretold by the Oracle. I will not curse my fate, regardless of what shall befall us.?

The other dragons nodded, and slipped into their own thoughts, each uncertain of what the future would bring, but willing to accept whatever it held.

* * *

After a rest and a meal, the Watcher summoned Cathrine to his quarters.

"We are about to go and stand before the Oracle," he said to her. "Few besides the scholars have seen it; none alive, save those who were witness to its Speaking recently, have ever bore witness to its words. We must prepare ourselves for this; it is this moment that I have been training you to be ready to experience." Cathrine nodded silently. Noventa continued. ?This is the moment I have been training you to be ready for. There will be nothing in your life that you shall ever experience that shall rival this one. The Oracle is very, very old. It may look like a flat, inanimate rock, but it has infinite knowledge and the gift of precognition. Do not take this experience lightly; many who have done so have gone insane from the overwhelming experience of hearing the Oracle Speak.?

Cathrine nodded again. She had heard this lesson before many times, but now it seemed more pertinent, more meaningful, and almost a bit ominous. ?What shall I say to the Oracle, Master?? she asked.

Noventa shook his head lightly. ?You are but an Apprentice. You do not yet have the level of training necessary to speak to the Oracle. You will be there to hear it Speak, but you will not expressly speak to the Oracle.?

?Master?why do you need me to be there, if I cannot yet speak to the Oracle??

?Because I will need you to be there to hear it Speak, Cathrine. You will help me interpret the words of the Oracle, and it is better if you hear the words spoken in person, rather than read them from a piece of parchment.? Noventa handed her a sheaf of parchment and a stylus. ?You will also be writing down the words that the Oracle Speaks,? he continued. ?I will need the words to be written down so that I may interpret them later. For that, I shall also require your help.?

Cathrine nodded, but said nothing. She felt slightly exasperated, but she did not dare to voice her concerns. She knew that this was not anything like the times that they practiced, and that it required a level of solemnity that went above any semblance of irritation or impatience.

Cathrine shrugged the ceremonial Watcher?s robes over her clothing, tying the sash firmly around her waist and settling the saffron-colored apprentice?s mantle over her shoulders. Noventa followed suit, although the mantle that he donned was the deep crimson of a fully-trained Watcher.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Two guards in ceremonial garb stood there, standing stiffly at attention. ?We are here to guide you to the Scholar?s Hall for the ceremony,? said one of them firmly, tapping the butt of his spear on the stone floor of the hallway.

Noventa nodded. ?We are ready,? he affirmed. He pulled the hood of the mantle over his head, draping to cover his face. Cathrine did the same, gripping the parcel of parchment tightly, and hoping that she would not trip on the hem of her robe with the hood down so far. The two of them stepped out into the hall and fell into position behind the guards. Cathrine took a deep breath, and hoped that she would not make any mistakes.

* * *

The Oracle?s Room was the same as it always had been; it was still airy and well-lit, but now the atmosphere in the room was noticeably tense. Scholars lined the edges of the room, shuffling and whispering nervously amongst themselves. At a place of honor stood the princess and her advisor, and near her, the dragon-riders watched the proceedings curiously. In the pit, Aratar shifted nervously, her growls and rumblings permeating the air like impatient thunder.

Suddenly, a hush fell upon those gathered. There was a shuffling of fabric and feet near the main archway, and the scholars standing there parted like waves to allow the Watcher and his apprentice enter the room. No one spoke, no one moved, and the guards stood at attention near the doorway.

The Watcher and Cathrine slowly moved across the room, situating themselves on opposite ends of the dais. They crossed the bridges to the Oracle?s pedestal reverently, stopping when they reached the pedestal. Only then did they lower their mantles, allowing the fabric to rest against their shoulders.

Cathrine stood near a small table. She set up her ink and stylus quickly and efficiently, securing a piece of parchment to a writing board and standing patiently before the Oracle. The Watcher seemed to be drawn into himself for a moment as he studied the smooth, flat surface of the Oracle?s face. Then he drew a breath.

?Nar'shel camrien, kanarhal'es!? he said, his voice ringing across the chamber

The reaction was instantaneous. The rumbling of the Oracle?s morphing face filled the silence of the hall, and the scholars shrank back against the wall in awed fear. The Oracle?s face turned to regard the Watcher.

?Avri deshilar a-Nar'shel? Morosihl kanarh, kev ahsien eida.? queried the Oracle.

Noventa bowed low, and seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Then he drew himself up to his full height, and prepared to speak the Words of Command that would cause the Oracle to repeat the prophecy. The air seemed to snap with anticipation.

Noventa paused reverently for a moment, then began to speak. ?Ynis vri, inar'sihla taarodan. Kanarhal'es!?

The Oracle pondered this for a moment, as though contemplating the veracity of the Watcher?s words. After a few moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, it seemed to deem the Watcher?s words were appropriate. Its facial features shifted, as though it was unstable and not used to forming features.

The Oracle began to speak.

* * *

It was night, and most of Calon Gaer slept.

For a few hardy souls, however, sleep was optional. One of those souls was Watcher Noventa.

He had been awake for many long hours already, poring over the old texts tirelessly, the leaf of parchment on which Cathrine had carefully written down the Oracle's Prophecy always at hand. He had taken many notes, but was no closer to unraveling the Oracle's riddles now than he had been several hours ago.

He sighed and leaned back heavily in his chair, reaching up to tug at his beard thoughtfully. Across the table Cathrine was snoozing. She had not yet worked up the stamina that Noventa had developed over years and years of studying and preparing for just this moment. But she was still young, and had already been pushed farther today than any human should be pushed.

He stood up, smiling indulgently, and gently shook Cathrine awake. She murmured sleepily in protest, then suddenly sat bolt upright when she realized what had happened.

"M-master! I...I must have drifted off...I'm so sorry! It's just that I'm so tired, and..." Her voice trailed off, and Noventa chuckled.

"It's all right, Cathrine. It has been a long night for both of us. I just awoke you so that you could go to your quarters and get some real rest in a real bed, instead of cushioning your head on one of those old, musty texts." Cathrine stood up sheepishly, brushing at the book as though to remove dust from its cover.

"What about you, Master? You have been awake longer than I have. Shouldn't you be getting some rest, too?"

Noventa smiled. "I will be doing just that shortly. I'm not as tired as you. I am going to spend a bit more time trying to decipher this line. I think I am very close to doing so." He waved her off in dismissal, turning his attention back to the book in front of him. Cathrine took a walking lamp from the hook near the door and made her way carefully back to her quarters.

Someone else was stirring in the depths of the sleeping castle...but this person wasn't a resident, and their intentions were not so benevolent.

It was little more than a dark shadow. It crept along the deepness of the archway that lead into the Scholar's Hall, waiting silently with held breath until Cathrine passed beneath the arch. She was not the shadow's target. She was only an apprentice; she was not considered a threat.

The shadow slunk down the long corridor, past classrooms and study rooms, past the dormitories where the scribes slept. It skirted the edge of the Oracle's chamber, ducking down a hallway quickly as Aratar snorted loudly and growled menacingly in the vast silence of the chamber. But Aratar would not leave her pit for the shadow. The shadow's target was not the Oracle, and she would not concern herself with anything that didn't threaten either the Oracle or Varya.

But the shadow did not know this, and knowing that Aratar knew of its presence was unnerving enough.

It crept down hallways, silently searching, until it spied the feeble spill of yellow light that oozed out of the doorway of the library where Noventa studied. The door was ajar enough for the shadow to see that its quarry was indeed inside, without it being seen by Noventa. It slunk back into the darkness again, and gathered itself to complete its mission.

The shadow's objectives had been simple: Breach Calon Gaer's security, enter into the Scholar's Hall, and kill the Watcher; then escape. The apprentice was not to be touched; neither was the princess, the dragon-riders--if they were there--, their dragons, or the Oracle. If escape was impossible, then death must be accepted posthaste. No one was to know the identity of the assassin or the organization that had ordered the death of the Watcher.

The shadow surreptitiously pulled a blow-dart gun from the pouch at its belt, and loaded it with a dart. The dart contained a very lethal poison; Noventa would not be able to call for help in time to save himself. The shadow crept forward, inching its way into the open doorway, tensed, and fired the dart.

But it had not counted on one thing. Noventa was aging, and in his old age, his back and neck had started to give him trouble, if he sat too long in one place. Just as the shadow fired the dart, Noventa chose to utilize a technique for stretching that he had learned in Ri Long. He scooted his chair back and leaned over while seated, grasping his ankles and stretching his back. He groaned with relief. This usually helped ease his aching muscles.

But his groan was not loud enough to hide the telltale thunk as the dart missed its intended target and instead struck a hanging stack of maps and charts, embedding itself firmly in a large map of Sanq.

Noventa sat up abruptly, and immediately saw the dart. He whirled in his chair, searching for its source. "Who's there?" he shouted loudly, hoping to alert the palace guards. He stood up, knocking his chair over, and began moving around frantically, knowing better than to remain still. A moving target was much more difficult to hit.

"Identify yourself!" he shouted, and another dart whizzed past his ear. He shied visibly to one side, and found his voice. "Guards! Help! Intruder!" he bellowed, his voice reverberating against the stone walls of the library.

The shadow pushed open the door and darted into the room, revealing a slight figure dressed all in black, and rushed the older man with a wicked-looking knife. Noventa grabbed the figure's wrists, trying to wrest the knife out of its hand as he struggled with the other person. But the assassin was younger and more lithe than the Watcher. It managed to gain enough leverage to graze Noventa's right shoulder with the tip of the knife, tearing through fabric and biting into his flesh.

Noventa roared in pain, and grabbed the figure's wrist with his uninjured arm, pressing firmly against the tendons in an attempt to make the assassin drop the knife. It worked. The knife clattered to the floor, and Noventa kicked it frantically underneath a bookcase.

Unarmed but hardly harmless, the assassin chose to attack with bare hands instead, grappling with the older man. The two figures struggled across the room, crashing into shelves and tables. Charts and shelves were knocked askew, setting up a tremendous clamor. Noventa hoped it would be loud enough to alert the attention of the guards.

It worked. The sound of heavy booted feet tramping down the corridor could soon be heard, along with the loud, angry voice of the captain of the guard. If the racket that Novena and the assassin were making weren't enough to awaken the entire castle, the noise of the captain's voice would. They burst into the room, followed closely behind by the dragon-riders. The shadow knew its mission had failed, and attempted to make a break for freedom. But all the doors were blocked, by both guards and dragon-riders.

Against better judgment, Duo rushed the slight figure, tackling it to the ground. Duo pummeled at the assassin, using the brawling techniques that he had learned well from growing up with five older brothers, sending a flurry of hard punches to its head. Soon the figure lay supine on the stone floor, breathing shallowly, and making no attempt to escape any longer.

"Ease off, Duo, we want to leave him somewhat alive for questioning," said Wufei tersely.

Duo swiveled to glare at Wufei. "And what makes you so sure that this is a man?" he snapped.

Wufei shrugged. "Most honorable duchies would not send their women to do the work of a man. But even if that were not the case, that person's build isn't right to be female. Take off his hood; we'll see who's right."

Duo grunted and began to tug at the swaddling of fabric hiding the shadow's face, and soon uncovered the head of what appeared to be a young man not much older than the dragon-riders. His eyes were closed, and his face was already sporting what would be an impressive set of bruises, compliments of Duo.

The assassin groaned, and his eyelids fluttered. The captain of the guard strode purposely across the room and reached down, knotting his fingers in the assassin's hair and hauling him upright until he was on his feet. The assassin's eyes flew open with the sudden new pain, and he struggled weakly against the older man's grip.

"Who are you, and who has sent you?" snarled the guard. "Answer me!" He shook the boy savagely for emphasis.

The boy's lips curled upward in a sardonic sneer, but he said nothing. Faster than the guard could react, the assassin had swept something into his mouth and bitten down hard, then swallowed convulsively. His body stiffened, jerked once or twice, then grew slack in the guard's grip.

The guard spat with disgust and allowed the body of the assassin to drop like a ragdoll to the floor. He kicked at it ineffectually. "Dirty assassins," he muttered, then looked up in surprise at the doorway. "Princess! What are you doing here?!"

Relena clutched her dressing-robe around her shoulders and gave the guard a petulant look. "I heard the commotion. I came to investigate," she said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"But it is not safe!"

Relena waved him off with a dismissive gesture. "I appreciate your concern, but wasn't it you who told me that assassins rarely travel in packs? If there is one found, there is likely to only be one. I remember that much from your lessons." She stared at the body. "Are we able to tell where he was from? And what his target was?"

Noventa stepped forward. "He was apparently after me, Highness," he said, rubbing his shoulder ruefully. "I only heard him when I heard the dart hit the map over there." Trowa had walked over to the map and tugged the dart free, and was examining the fletching. He walked slowly over to the captain.

"You may want to have this analyzed," he said contemplatively. "It's almost certain to be poisonous. Do not touch the point, if you can help it. The fletching style is not familiar to me. I would have to guess that this did not come from any of the duchies within the Sanq Kingdom."

"What about the body?" persisted Relena. "Surely there must be some form of identification on the body?"

Duo had already crouched next to the crumpled figure and was tugging at the black cloth covering the assassin. "This guy must've been cold or something," he grunted, "because he's got two layers of clothing on. Let's see what's on under these basic blacks here..."

The captain gave Relena a humoring look. "Highness," he said evenly, "I doubt that we will be able to find anything identifying on the assassin. He was obviously equipped for suicide, if forced. If whoever sent him didn't expect him to return, they wouldn't have stamped anything identifiable on him before sending him off."

"Maybe," said Duo quietly, "but then again, maybe not." He backed up. The assassin was wearing a tunic beneath the dark fabric, and on the tunic was a very clear crest.

Relena gasped, and a hand flew to her mouth. She found herself shaking her head in disbelief. "No..." she murmured, "no! It can't be!" She dropped her hand, and her fists balled at her sides. "I refuse to believe it! It cannot be true!" Tears welled at her eyes, and she turned and fled from the room.

The dragon-riders looked after her flight curiously. The captain of the guard looked equally sad and resigned. He motioned to one of the other guards. "Take this body and dispose of it properly," he said brusquely. "We do not need this trash soiling our fair castle." The captain turned to Noventa. "Your wound should be attended to," he said. "One of my guards will see you to the infirmary." Noventa nodded, and followed another guard from the room.

Quatre stepped forward, peering at the crest. "Captain," he asked, "that crest--where is it from? What about it distressed the princess so? Is it from a duchy she did not expect to see?"

The captain sighed heavily. "Yes, dragon-rider," he said as though it pained him to admit. "That is the crest of the house of Es'rilshan."

~*~

TBC

[kmf]

Another wonderful chapter - the plot certainly is thickening! Loved Cathy and Trowa's meeting, especially Quatre's reaction Also I very much enjoyed the conversation between the dragons, it made them seem so much more real and part of the plot rather than just animals to be ridden.

Eagerly awaiting the next chapter

kmf

[RDP]

Es'rilshan? Does that mean Milliardo is somewhat responsible?