Divided (12 page)

Taeru wished he looked better, but he was most certainly
pale from his fights with the voices that seemed to insist upon speaking to
him.  Maybe he’d caught whatever Merril had.  Though, Taeru was sure that sort
of thing wasn’t contagious.  “I’m alright,” he answered, “I was just on my way
home.”

The blond looked a little concerned, but not overly so. 
Finally, he just nodded his head and went back to analyzing the piece of fruit
in his hand.  “Nice to see you again, at any rate,” the man said flatly.

“Ah, yes,” Taeru mumbled.  “I…”  He must look like some sort
of fool.  No wonder his former dance partner was trying to ignore him.  “I
should go.”  Pulling himself around the blond, with much effort, as his legs
were still wobbling, he headed back towards the Amaral house.  There really was
nowhere else to go on a sun like this.

“Hey wait!” the blond-haired traveler sounded startled at
Taeru’s sudden departure. 

No, this conversation was not going to happen this sun.  As
nice as the young traveler seemed to be, Taeru wasn’t going to make a fool of
himself further by trying to carry on a conversation while fighting off the
nightmares of children.  “I really don’t feel well,” Taeru said honestly, “I
need to get home.”

This seemed to subdue the blond, as for a few moments he
looked ready to wrestle Taeru to the ground and demand he stay.  Instead,
though, he simply nodded his head.  He looked regretful, and Taeru was fairly
certain he’d successfully worried his newfound acquaintance, but that didn’t
matter.

He headed down the road, without sparing a glance back at
the individual in front of whom he’d just humiliated himself.  He had nearly
turned the corner to the alley that held his home when he heard the voice. 
“I’m far too important to pay the likes of you for simple fruit.  Give me your
sun’s load for the trouble, peasant!” 

A noble.  Taeru let his eyes wander back to the few guards
that stood in front of an older man’s stand.  He frowned.  Bloody nobles. 

“M-my whole sun’s load?!” the man choked.  “But I won’t make
any profit for this sun at all,” he whimpered.

“Serves you right!” said one of the other nobles.

Sickness be damned.  Taeru flung himself into the alleyway. 
He’d had Alyx make him more than enough outfits, and she’d been more than happy
to do so, so that he was never too far away from one of them.  He eased himself
into one of the cellars of the storage buildings and found the brown bag.  He
yanked his current clothes off with renewed vigor and then slipped into the tight
fitting shirt and leggings.  The boots were tight enough to offer mobility and
hard enough to offer a little protection.

The leather of his chest was heavy on his still slightly
weakened body, but he didn’t worry with it.  He pulled on the brown gloves, tied
the bandana over his hair, hooked his belt around his waist, and placed both
swords in their sheaths.  Lastly, he drew the mask over his eyes and threw the
cloak around his shoulders.  He exited the cellar cautiously and made his way
up onto the roof, where he stayed low, moving from roof to roof, until he was
overlooking the scene that he’d witnessed just moments ago.

The man was shakily trying to get together his wares while
the nobles guffawed at their apparent victory.  This was disgusting.  Taeru narrowed
his eyes, and spoke with much more of an inflection in his voice than he
ordinarily did.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  If you are above the price, then surely
you must be above the wares.  Perhaps if you grew fruit, it would be worthy of
your ethereal lives.  You
must
have some large amount of worth too, as
you have time to come down to Dark District and grace these pleasant people
with your presence.”

The three turned to glare up at him, and two of them looked
terrified, while the other looked a little in shock.  There were still nobles
that didn’t believe they were going to be punished for doing things like this. 
“You insolent little brat!” one of them called up to him.  “I’ll crush you!”

That was probably his favorite line.  So overused, and it
was almost never followed by any sort of prowess in battle.  He dropped to the
ground as one of the nobles charged at him.  He ducked under the man’s fist and
caught the back of his head with the hilt of one his swords.

Then, he drew the other sword in time to catch the second
noble’s large blade between both of his.  With a twist of his wrists, he sent
the blade flying across the market and then thrust forward with his forward
hand and left a scratch along the cheek of the unarmed man.

He noticed the last man starting to charge, and so he jumped
into the air and placed a kick into the stunned and unarmed noble’s face,
sending him staggering back into his friend.  “Unfortunate, though,” he mused
aloud, “that you don’t seem to make time for practicing with your blades.”

At that moment, he ducked under the first noble’s sword, grabbed
his arm, and flipped the man to the ground with a swift motion.  This really
didn’t provide much of a challenge—though that was probably a good thing on
this sun.  If he had fought someone with any skill, he would have been easily
overwhelmed with the way his body kept reminding him of his sickness. 

When the third man finally got up and managed to charge him,
Taeru back-stepped, waiting for the man’s momentum to die.  Then, he thrust forward
and cut a quick line up the man’s uniform and then, using his second sword,
sliced through the man’s belt.  As expected, the man’s trousers fell around his
ankles to reveal his undershorts.  Taeru pretended to be apologetic.  “Oh
dear,” he said.  “Perhaps you should invest in more form fitting pants.  Or
were you hoping to eat enough fruit so that you filled them out?” he asked.

The man’s face turned a bright, bright red as he reached
down at his pants and yanked them up.  The entire marketplace was doing their
best not to laugh.  Taeru just kept the bemused smile on his face.  “I’m going
to catch you, throttle you until you can’t see, and then cut off limbs until
you bleed out!  Hanging is too good for you!” the first man shouted.

“Let’s just go, you imbecile!” the man who’d lost his pants cried. 
He was obviously not wanting to continue the hard labor of holding his pants in
place.  After all, what Dark District resident would take their threats
seriously, now?  “You’ll pay for this,” he growled.  “Just wait until we find
out who you are!”

The threat was one that Taeru had heard too many times to be
affected by it.  He knew the consequences of being caught but being reminded of
them did little for him anymore.  At first—he had been afraid every time the
nobles had mentioned it.  A few times, they had even pretended to know who he
was—only after a while did he realize that they were bluffing.

As the men sprinted off towards their horses, that were tied
to a pole not too far off, he smiled.  “Always a pleasure, gentlemen!” he
shouted cheerfully to their backs.  Shockingly, they didn’t return the
pleasantry.

“Th-thank you!” the shopkeeper stammered.  For a moment,
Taeru worried that the man was going to leap out from behind his stall and wrap
Taeru in a hug.  That would have required a little more closeness than Taeru
wanted.

Fortunately, though, the man didn’t move to hug him.  Taeru
offered a quick bow.  “Not a problem, goodsir.  Try not to be so afraid of
them,” he said gently, “most of them couldn’t beat a paper sack in a
swordfight.”

The man smiled and nodded his head gratefully.  Surely the
people of Dark District would start to understand they could defend themselves
soon enough.  Already he’d seen a little more spirit appearing in them when
they handled the nobles—at least he’d managed to do some good for his running
away from Cathalar. 

“Impressive,” the voice behind him shocked him.  He’d
forgotten that his traveler friend was still in the market.  “And modest too… a
hero is rare, but a hero that refuses to take credit for his deeds is rarer.”

Taeru fought his blush before he turned to face the
traveler.  He offered a quick smile.  “Modest or a coward?” he asked.  “If the
nobles knew my identity, then I’m sure I would make an easier target.”

The blond smiled warmly and seemed to deeply approve of this
response.  “Modest, still—modest and sensible,” he finally said.

There was a light blush this time that Taeru hoped his mask
did a fair enough job of covering up.  With a quick bow, he thanked the traveler
for his words, dashed up onto one of the rooftops, and found himself moving
much faster than usual to get away from the crowds that would no doubt be
trying to follow him and determine who he was.

Once he’d gotten out of his costume and back to his home,
his legs buckled the moment he crossed the threshold.  “Kilik!” a voice
squealed.  Katt—Juliet’s apprentice.  He couldn’t help thinking that he was
going to get questioned even worse, now that Katt was here. 

With a little help, Taeru got to his bed and worked to
control his labored breathing.  Despite the toll it had taken on him, he was
glad that he had been there to help out the man in the market this sun.  And
even if the blond traveler thought Kilik was a bumbling imbecile, he seemed to
have a high enough opinion of the Phantom Blade.  “What’s wrong?” Katt asked. 
“You look flushed.  You have a fever!”

He just mumbled some answer that he didn’t fully understand
himself, but she was already off to fetch a rag and some cool water to put on
his face.  He didn’t know where this fever had come from, but if his dreams were
so bad that they caused him a fever—then he might have a problem.  A few
moments later, Taeru heard someone else enter the house.  “Kilik!” Alyx’s voice
was stern.  “I saw what happened in the square earlier!  You were sick, you
foolish boy!” she cried.

“What did he do?” Katt asked when she returned with the rag.

Taeru winced and shot Alyx a warning glance before she let
out a sigh.  She wasn’t about to let this be turned into her fault.  “He was
just running about.  I knew he was sick from the events of our last moon, and
he insisted on going about this sun as if nothing was the matter.”  Taeru had
to give her credit—that was a lovely way of handling it.

Katt accepted the explanation readily and went to fretting
over Taeru and telling him how foolish he’d been for going out when he wasn’t
feeling well.  Then, there was another excited voice in the room—though at this
point everyone sounded the same, and as though they were coming from the back
of a cave.  “Did you see the square?!” someone asked excitably.

“Yes, and be quiet,” another voice chided, “Kilik is sick.”

For some reason, Taeru was frightened of the idea of falling
asleep.  He didn’t know how badly his dreams would be now that he’d given way
to a fever.  Sadly, he had no choice, as his body seemed to get a little weaker
by the moment. 

The horror of his dream was no less than what he expected. 
Immediately, he was thrust into a field of blood and carnage.  Somewhere in the
distance, he knew what was happening—Telandus and Cathalar were finally at
war.  He was hurt, though, more so than he should be—and he didn’t think he’d
been involved in the battle.  Maybe he should have been, though.

In the distance, that seedling called out to him—though now
there was a large black mass that seemed to pulse terror into his body as he
stared up at it.  “Please, don’t do this,” he begged, though he didn’t know for
what it was he was begging. 

“This is your fault,” some far off voice told him.  “You
have failed.  You have failed and everyone you love will pay dearly for it!”

Taeru slowly began to panic as he stumbled forward.  He
tripped over one of the people lying in the field of blood and gasped with
agonized horror when he realized who it was.  “Ryo,” he choked.  “Ryo—no.”

His older brother didn’t stir, and though the monstrous
creature continued to call to Taeru, he stayed with his brother.  He brought
Ryo’s head up into his lap, trying to rouse him.  “Ryo, Ryo, please wake up! 
Ryo!”

There was no response.  The pull from the mass in the
distance was strong, and he could feel his own body trying to move without his
permission.  He couldn’t leave his brother, though, and he wouldn’t.  If he had
failed, then Ryo shouldn’t be paying the price—Taeru should be paying the
price.  He spoke to the presence with desperation.  “N-no, this isn’t fair. 
You said I failed.  Don’t hurt Ryo!  Don’t hurt my family.  Leave everyone else
alone!  I’m the one that failed!” he cried into nothingness.

There was no response and he could hear the unsteady beat of
his heart.  He clung to his brother until the body began to decay and wither
away in his arms.  Whispers continued in his mind and he tried to hold onto Ryo
until at last, he was hovered over a grinning skeleton.  Taeru threw himself
away as tears began to stream down his face.  “Please!” he begged.  “Take me! 
Take me, not them!”

His feet stumbled towards the presence.  Perhaps if he would
go to it, then he could end this.  If the presence could have him, as it so
desperately wanted, then surely it would leave everyone else alone.  Taeru
couldn’t fail again.  The black mass came into his vision and seemed to send
jolts of agony down him by its mere presence.  As he approached, though, there
was another figure standing in front of the black abomination.

He continued moving forward, confident that he needed to get
to this figure.  Once he was close enough, horror struck him in full.  The
slight figure was sitting on a chair that seemed made out of thorns and in her
hand, she clutched a white flower that had been painted with her blood.  When
she looked up, he could see her—his sister.  But blood spilled down her face
and her eyes were a frightening red color.  “Aela,” he spoke warily.  “Aela! 
Get away from there!”

His little sister?  No.  No, this couldn’t be happening.  He
couldn’t have failed so badly that Aela was forced to pay for what he’d done. 
The sister that he’d abandoned was now dying because of him.  What sort of
monster was he?  “A monster indeed,” she spoke in a strange voice.