Act Four: Blackness...
In the eyes of Ryoku Dragontalen, we are in
The Timeless Castle, in the world of Lysvid.
It is late evening
On November 7th, 2017.
Scene One: Ragnarokkr
"Welcome back, kids."
I felt my face ultimately betraying me as I stepped back into the room. The Timeless One beamed at me like I was his son. Sira didn't let go of my arm and kept at my side. Will had taken a seat, but looked thoroughly amused at the sight of us. Loki's hand cleverly covered a wide smirk. Even Rex was chuckling to himself. Was my hair messed up? Was Sira's tunic inside out?
Despite the interruption, I felt better than I had before. I stood next to Sira as strong as ever, even with the injuries bared on my chest that started to ache deeply. Something about the fire that Sira breathed into me gave me a brave, shaky adrenaline that left me standing before the Timeless One in all seriousness. It felt like I had war stripes where her tongue crossed my skin.
The Timeless One's minute size didn't hinder the eerie silence in his eyes, a look that added to the effect of his ominous name.
"Well, Ryoku Dragontalen," the Timeless One boomed. I flinched at the sound of his full voice – I'd forgotten just how loud he could make himself. "It seems your wound will let me heal it now! As well, I think I'll be able to help you with some other matters. But let us deal with that first."
The Timeless One beckoned me over. When I stood before him, he put a papery hand on my chest. Even with whatever magic had ebbed away much of the pain, I could feel it sting at the contact. Sira's arm clutched mine a little tighter.
Once the vampire shut his milky eyes, I could already begin to feel the magic pouring out into the world. The air felt oddly thick around magic, as though the act was simply air condensing into a thicker, more potent form. A light, dusty smell wafted through the air like an ancient library, its texts recently leafed through to scatter dust in the air. I felt the tips of my ears perk, as though there were some key lament whispered through his fingertips and into my skin. The dusty scent of libraries mixed with an unfamiliar spice settled on my tongue.
The last sense magic could trigger was sight. Slowly, as though it existed all along, a thin gray mist began to seep from the Timeless One's clawed hands. Almost all magic that I'd seen was visible in some way. I wasn't sure if this was standard, but it obeyed similar laws to what I'd already seen. I could recall similar reactions in the world every time I'd seen magic so far – at least, when I paid it due mind.
I could feel the wound beginning to stretch. I hadn't found my gall to look at it yet. It felt like a set of slashes across my chest, but perhaps there was a certain gouge in the middle of it. I could feel the scar tissue mending – an awful and grotesque feeling, to be concise. It was like the Timeless One's misty magic wove needle and thread through the skin, drawing it back together as though it had never been apart.
The sensation became one of increasing discomfort. My stomach churned and tossed. My head spun like my eyes followed the threads of his magic. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, and each breath like I was breathing through sandpaper. Sira's grip on me grew stronger, and I couldn't tell her how it made my stomach lurch even worse.
It felt like eons before the old vampire drew his hand away. "Sorry about that, my boy," he told me in a chipper tone. "The worst of it is over. Why don't you take a look now?"
It took a moment for the nausea to ebb away, but I glanced down. Where I'd felt the horrid discomfort remained only a dark scar etched against my pale skin. It looked like a mass of scar tissue with the edges of a rake of claws framing it.
"That will remain for some time," the Timeless One told me. "A commendation of what you went through – and, dare I say, a reminder of what you must never do again."
I sensed satire behind his voice, but his milky eyes betrayed nothing. Sira and Will both chuckled at this, while Loki only furrowed his brow.
"Obviously, that scar will only affect you in this world, Defender," the Timeless One told me. "That must be a truly disorienting sensation for you, as will many things be in this realm. Exercise caution, for you can still die here. A death in our realms would render your body comatose unless another spirit took it over in your stead, which is not an untoward idea. Many have done it in the past!
"Now," the Timeless One said as he gestured for Sira and I to take a seat. We obliged, taking seats close to the little vampire and across from the others. "I hear you have some trouble properly using weapons. Will tells me you cannot seem to properly wield a blade any longer than your knife, which is hardly satisfactory against most opponents you might come to face." There was a certain twinkle in his eyes, I thought, like a private joke. "Your archery is potent, but it must face proper trial before you can do any real damage with your arrows. Your magic, of course, requires work. All mages are a constant study, as I'm sure you will discover. I have something to offer you."
"Like what?" I asked. The Timeless One didn't immediately answer, and snapped his fingers instead. The sound came like a bullet in the silence of the room. A door near where Will and Sira brought me from opened slowly, as though a figure had been waiting just beyond it. A shadow stepped into the room out of the torchlight, masked by the shadows.
"To your ill-trained skills," the Timeless One said with a smile, "I offer you, a teacher."
(Meanwhile, in the eyes of Will Ramun...)
Nothing about the figure was readily apparent until he stepped into our midst, for the lighting in the Timeless Castle left much to be desired. There stood a tall man with a young, angular face, perhaps aged in about his early thirties. Something kept his dark hair a little spiked up, which served to bolster the youthful handsomeness of the man. He dressed in the same style of black tunic as the Timeless One's castle called for, his hands lightly pushed into his pockets. He didn't carry the atmosphere of a fighter or wizard, I thought, nor any sort of rogue. I couldn't place what he was.
His almond eyes fell upon Ryoku right away, and I saw ghosts in them for a moment before they masked over again. When I saw Ryoku's expression, I knew the truth. This was a man from his own world – at that, a spirit. Somebody he lost.
"M-Mr. Guildford?" he asked, his voice tentative and weak, as though he thought speaking them might serve to make the truth unapparent before him. Loki, Sira, and I wildly glanced between Ryoku and the man. Was this some kind of teacher of his?
The man calmly raised a nonchalant hand in greeting, but a somewhat giddy grin gave him away. "Long time no see," he said, his voice as calm and friendly as he appeared. "I never thought I might see you again – especially while you still lived. At least, so says the Timeless One. I think I had a few assignments left for you to turn in. And… it's just Guildford, if you would. I don't see a classroom demanding etiquette here."
Ryoku didn't reply, staring at Guildford like he was seeing a ghost – as, I realized, he quite literally was. Guildford strolled around the table, keeping a steady pace until he came to stand behind Ryoku and put a hand on his shoulder. "This will be a lot different than teaching you history or grammar. I'm afraid they didn't offer magic or fighting lessons at my particular university. But, all the same, I hope I won't let you down."
It took Ryoku a long moment to smile. I wondered what the boy was thinking about. What would I feel if somebody I thought I lost forever appeared in front of me? Plenty of soldiers I fought alongside in the past, I would delight to see again. Of course, I thought, this seemed like a big one for Ryoku.
Involuntarily, I found myself picturing a girl: she had curly brown hair, and a face fraught with freckles accented by sunlight. Her brown eyes looked like glistening stones. Just as quickly as ever, the memory faded into the back of my mind. Sara, I thought, but I could never quite get further than that in my memories. I only knew that I had lost her somehow.
To stop my eyes from watering, I glanced around the room and noticed the Timeless One's expression. He didn't look surprised in the least to see that Guildford and Ryoku knew each other. Had he planned it this way? I wasn't sure whether to call it a blessing or a cruel curse to reunite with those you lost...
"H-How did you get here?" Ryoku asked. He sounded like a thousand questions formed in his mind and he picked the simplest, hoping for a rounded answer.
Guildford appeared hesitant, but a nod from the Timeless One encouraged him. "I've been here for some time," he said. "After… well, after everything, this seems to be the first place I came. The Timeless One took me in quickly, and has taken care of me and taught me ever since. I can use a sword now," he added, and gestured to a modest longsword clipped to the belt of his tunic. "Surprising, right? I've done a great deal of studying in this world. I can teach you about that, too, if you'd like. The Timeless One tells me you haven't been here for very long."
Ryoku was flinching at everything his teacher said. I watched him with trepidation. How would he react to this?
"It's only been a few days." Sira spoke up for Ryoku, seeing him tongue-tied. She turned and offered her hand out to Guildford. "Sira Jessura, one of Ryoku's Guardians. I guess you… were close to him?"
She almost spoke bitterly. Was that jealousy in her voice? Seriously?
Guildford smiled nervously after shaking Sira's hand – if anything, her tight grip probably scared him. Sira was all bark and bite. "You could say that," Guildford replied. "I'm not sure what you know of the physical world, but I was Ryoku's history and English teacher two years in a row. On top of that, I owe the eventual success of one of my toughest students to him, and that of… well, many of his friends." He gave Ryoku a private sort of smile, which the Defender shakily returned.
I almost didn't want to step forward and introduce myself. Getting anything out of Ryoku about his past had proven very difficult, and I longed to know exactly who we were dealing with. Still, I brought myself to stand and bowed to the teacher, which drew a politely alarmed look from him.
"William Jesse Ramun, at your service," I told him plaintively. "I am a Guardian of Ryoku as well. If you are to instruct him, then I shall do my utmost to protect you likewise."
Guildford appraised me for a moment with a warm smile. "You might not find him so helpless," Relus Ashbane inferred from his chair, adjusting his glasses. "Guildford has trained with me, and his sword skill is excellent for a recent arrival to our realms."
Guildford smiled modestly, scratching his head. "Well, I suppose," he said, "though Relus is quite remarkable himself." He offered his hand, and I shook it. He had a firm grip, but not weathered like many soldiers I knew. A golden ring glinted on his finger – a wedding band, or I was a fisherman. "Well met, William Jesse Ramun. Will for short? I seek comrades, not a guard team."
I grinned. Like student, like teacher. "Of course," I told him, "though I have sworn to guide Ryoku through thick and thin already."
Ryoku gave me a telltale smile. "That was only through the Old Forest!"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "It turns out I was meant to guide you further."
Loki thrusting his hand in Guildford's face interrupted any further argument on Ryoku's behalf. "I bet you've been dying to meet me," he said with the tone of a hero. "The name's Loki, the god of tricks and fire. A pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
Guildford took his hand, scowling for the first time I'd seen. "Loki?" he asked thoughtfully. "Doesn't mythology call you a giant?"
Loki immediately frowned. "Perhaps they only spoke of his ego," Sira suggested, to a quiet chuckle around the table.
"Mythology in your world has been wrong on many accounts!" Loki insisted, though he didn't look happy. "Thor and Odin are my brothers. Does your mythology detail that? Or, perhaps, that our family births from the Ancients?"
Guildford only frowned. "Interesting," he murmured, "though I have read about the Ancients in my studies as of late. Those are something like the inner circle of gods, correct?"
"That is correct," the Timeless One exclaimed, beaming at his pupil. "The most powerful of gods from each sect is said to descend from them. Odin, Thor, and Loki would count as 'the big three' of the Norse gods, and all hold positions in other sects, so that would make them indubitably descend from the Ancients. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades would be those under Greek mythology, and… well, I'm sure those serve as example enough."
"The Ancients are not quite gods, so to speak," Relus added – he appeared to be waiting to correct his master, and looked surprised when he didn't have to. "While gods serve and watch over the world of the living, the Ancients are in charge of the deeper aspects of Creation – they'll rarely meddle in earthly affairs."
The conversation dwindled away, and I noticed Ryoku hadn't moved an inch. Guildford saw, too, but he looked around the table at us. "I wager I have the three of you to thank for keeping Ryoku safe. For that, I will always be grateful. But…" he trailed off, catching the eye of Lusari next to me. "You as well?"
Lusari smiled shyly. "I've not sworn a Guardianship vow," she said. "I'm Lusari Atella, a mage from Harohto. Ryoku has certainly saved me more than I could ever do for him. Perhaps he is my Guardian."
Ryoku blushed furiously, a notion that Sira didn't miss. "Not true," he murmured. "You saved me when the werewolves injured me. Without you, we couldn't have gotten away from the Keeper of the Old Forest!"
"And, if I recall, you served to help just as much against the Keeper," I told him. "Not just the once, mind you. How would we have escaped the first time without your fire?"
"What of the Warg in the capital?" I was surprised to see Cleria pipe up, watching Ryoku across the table with a playful smile. "You're skilled, even if you're a bit of a liar, Ronyx Curtis..." Inevitably, her crimson gaze slid to me, bemused. "Speaking of, Sir Jeffrey Lampsword..."
I grinned sheepishly, scratching my head. "My apologies. You see…"
The Timeless One cut me off with a booming chuckle. "Fret not, my little sheep," he told us. "I understand the need for disguises. You certainly must continue with them, of course. Such may even serve to give you an advantage when you finally land in the serpents' lair. The less they know about you, the better."
Sira gave me a pointed glare. "Maybe some of us should think on ours a little more next time."
However, even that fell to silence again. I couldn't fully laugh, seeing the look Ryoku was still giving his old teacher. It took a long time for him to voice his thoughts.
"You died." He spoke simply, his voice hollow. Guildford flinched, and Ryoku's stubborn chin softened. His forest eyes fell past Guildford, past the vampires, past everything else that was here before him. "We fought for you, you know. Katiel. Dagger. Joey. Me. We got our vengeance, and we won. Well, sort of. Varis left the country."
Silence hit the room like a tangible creature. It occurred to me now that, when I asked Ryoku if he'd ever fought before, his answer belonged to this deep and terrible thing he'd done, an inky stain on his past. It was why he knew a little of what he was doing. Why even the big lugs in the bar hadn't really scared him, and he still managed to stand with us against Lusari's would-be rapists in Harohto. He might have seen worse.
"You shouldn't have," Guildford chastised. "You know that could have ended badly for you. Varis and his cronies have sent senior students to the hospital. Adults, even. His family is so renowned in Brooklyn that nobody could win against him. So, how…?"
Guildford and Ryoku locked eyes for a long moment. I remained silent, sensing that there was much more behind their words and expressions than I could imagine. Sira was staring at Ryoku just as intently. Something must have happened between them earlier for the expectant look in Sira's eyes. That wasn't there before.
"Are you intending to meet up with your friends?" Guildford finally asked.
Ryoku nodded. "Soon. Katiel, at least. I'm not so sure about the others yet."
Guildford smirked. "I doubt you'll be able to hide from Dawn," he said knowingly. "As soon as she catches wind of where you are. So long as it suits her, I suppose."
Loki shot to his feet. "Hold on!" he half-shouted, turning on Ryoku. "You don't mean to say… you have other Defender friends?"
Ryoku and Guildford exchanged glances. How could the teacher know such a thing? I could even see the confusion on Ryoku's face, though he didn't speak them just then.
"There's a few, yes," Ryoku explained hesitantly. "Katiel is my best friend. I'm planning to meet with him soon. And… then there's Dawn and Anna. And Virgo."
"Your world has some strangely diverse names," Loki commented, scratching his chin. "Well, go on. Are we to meet them soon?"
Ryoku only smiled. "Katiel won't keep me waiting. That's all I know right now."
Loki didn't press the question, which led me to believe he'd only pester Ryoku further in a different setting. Perhaps without his teacher's adamant backing. Instead, he turned to the Timeless One, who took something that Relus pulled out from under the table. A thick parcel, about the length of a particular longsword.
"If we are done with the questions for the time being," the Timeless One commented, "then I have something for you."
With a push of vampiric strength, the Timeless One slid the item across the table. Ryoku missed it by a mile, but Sira stopped it just after him. She went to hand it to Ryoku, but the item didn't budge. Confused, Sira glared at it like that alone should make it melt out of shame. Ryoku, paying that no mind, plucked it off the table and took it in his hands. Sira stared at him with her jaw agape. The item was wrapped in brown cloth, and a small bronze medallion clasped it shut, masking the true item from view. Every vampire clothed in black and white around the table glared at the weapon unforgivingly.
"That sword was heavy as all hell," Sira muttered, giving Ryoku quite a bewildered look. "I went to push it, but it wouldn't budge."
"But you did stop its momentum," Relus pointed out. "Such an immobile item should have broken your hand, no?"
Ryoku didn't seem to hear them. "You acknowledged that I can't use swords, right?" Ryoku asked. He kept his tone polite, but there was certain skepticism in it. "You did mention that?"
"I did," the Timeless One said, and for a moment, his voice sounded just as old and heavy as his name. "You may find this particular weapon to act differently than most. You see, Ryoku Dragontalen, this is your sword."
"What do you mean by that?" Ryoku asked. I could hear a strain of impatience in his voice by now. I didn't disagree. The Timeless One was leaving something out, some key detail that he should have explained the moment we entered this room with Ryoku.
"I might not be the one to explain everything to you, Ryoku." The Timeless One's milky eyes glistened like light. "You may find your name is older than the presence you have in these realms. Such a name. Ryoku Dragontalen. Have you never wondered why you carry such a title? Surely it stands out in your own world."
Ryoku shook his head, but he contemplated the words before he spoke. "No, not at all. I mean... should it?" He fell silent again, staring at the cloth-wrapped weapon as though he stared through it, through everything below it, and into something that may offer him untold answers.
The Timeless One frowned thoughtfully. "Well, yes, I would say. That is a little odd. But go on! Open it. Perhaps looking upon it will enlighten you to something you have been missing."
That seemed to push Ryoku a little more. Guildford unclasped the item from the cloth, and it fell away in Ryoku's hands to unveil a smooth, black blade, about three or four feet long and with a rather wide blade. The hilt was diamond-shaped and wrapped in thick, black chains that dangled free and connected to the sword's squared pommel. I knelt closer to study the blade. It looked like pale runes danced across the flat of the blade. I couldn't recognize them, even given the automatic translator I now had as a Guardian.
There was something hauntingly familiar about the weapon, and of Ryoku's slowly dawning expression as he examined it. It seemed like a painting of reunited family where neither recognized the other, or perhaps coming across the charred remains of one's childhood home.
"It looks fairly light," Lusari commented. "Sira, you said it was heavy?"
Guildford reached for the handle of the blade. Ryoku stirred, but he didn't stop his teacher as he grabbed the handle. He gave it a tug. The item didn't budge. Ryoku glanced up at his teacher in confusion as he easily lifted and dropped the weapon in his outstretched hands.
"I apologize that the weapon doesn't come with a sheath," Relus told Ryoku. "Of all things, we could not seem to recover that. That cloth is made of a material that even your sword won't cut through. I took the liberty of installing the means to clip it to your baldric."
"You recovered it?" I asked. "From where?"
Relus only gave me a knowing smile and didn't reply.
"Give it a try, young one," the Timeless One suggested. "It may prove the same experience you have had with swords until now, or it may not. One mustn't judge his eggs before they hatch!"
Relus cringed. "Or that you might never know if you never try." He adjusted his glasses studiously. "Perhaps, I might suggest, not in this room. Will tells us the weapon is unable to stay in your grasp, and there are many in this room."
"Why not try it in battle?" Sira suggested. There was a fire in her eyes once more. Whatever she felt for Ryoku, it magnified when she imagined the lust of a fight. "Why don't we have a bout, you and I?"
"In the world of darkness?" I asked dryly. "That sounds an excellent way to kill one another."
Sira gave me a livid look. "Shut up, Jeffy. I forgot, okay?"
Everyone else hung around Ryoku and the sword. Sira gave it a curious look like one might stare at a deadly snake at a distance. Guildford and I both seemed to appreciate the masterful craft of the weapon, though I still kept my distance. Something about looking at the weapon seemed cloudy, like looking at an old friend who appeared after a long time and appeared ultimately unfamiliar. Lusari couldn't take her eyes off it any more than Ryoku could, who'd scarcely looked up since he unveiled the black weapon.
Of all of us, though, Loki fervently kept his distance, lurking at least two chairs down behind a vampire who kept giving the Trickster nervous looks. Loki only had eyes for the sword, and he stared at it like the end of all things good, and a sure slayer of whatever dreams he entertained. What personal vendetta could Loki have against it? One day, I'd get the truth out of him on why he was here, and this was a page in that mystery.
"Its name is Ragnarokkr," the Timeless One's voice boomed, "and it has clearly chosen you, my friend."