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Date Posted: 18:19:02 01/11/02 Fri
Author: Tashi the Templar
Author Host/IP: modemcable203.45-202-24.mtl.mc.videotron.ca / 24.202.45.203
Subject: Wrath of the Gods part 3

Wrath of the Gods

by Tashi the Templar

Part 3

-----

Maybe it was the lazy dawn and the moist morning air or a feeling of premonition, the silent streets of Illywere were still deep in its slumber, besides the few morning chocobo riders that would trot along. The pointed, thatched roofs, mottled together in an unorganized fashion, blemishing with one another like autumn leaves.

Copper tinted windows reflected the morning sun into hazy streaks and created etchy shadows house over house. A bell rung, a grand brass sound, all over town, summoning people from their wake. A rooster sat itself on a pointed roof and performed its shrill cry of wakening. People began to stir, blinking the sleep out of their eyes as they woke up from their dreams...

He tossed in his bed, eyes shut tight and face plagued with fear. He reached out in his sleep, grasping through his unconsiousness and letting out whimpers. Tim threw off his bedsheets and sprawled over his bed, his eyes suddenly opening, focusing from his nightmare. He blinked, and then quickly rummaged a hand through his blonde hair and shook off a feeling of anxiety.

A knock came to the door, but Tim didn't get up, staying down on his bed to lay a hand on his sweaty forehead. The knock came again, but he ignored it, turning his body to look out the window. The door clicked open and his mother stepped in, peering curiously at him.

"Good morning Tim, time to get up! It's a whole new day for you!" his mother stepped up to his bedside and gently laid a hand on his forehead, taking it back in surprise. "Tim! You're burning up!"

Tim lazily rolled his eyes towards the woman and closed them, sighing. His head did feel horrible, like he was being knocked around in a hurricane. His mother went over to the other side of his bed and picked up his bedsheets, covering them over his prone form. She puffed up his pillow and laid her hand on his forehead again, face in deep thought. She hummed to herself and then nodded.

"Aye, seems like you've got a high fever rushing on. Tim, just what have you been doing?" she heaved a sigh and then stroked the boy's head again, "Don't worry about anything, I'm going to buy some elixirs from the market and before you know it, you'll be running around with Mitchell like you always do. Mischevious foxes!"

Tim managed to smile weakly and his mother returned a warm, comforting one. Mothers always had the special magic to them, they seemed to know what to say tho make you feel better.

With that, she left his bedroom, her slippers making gentle pats on the wooden steps. Tim glanced at the window, the sun falling into his bedroom in wide blankets of hazy warmth. A few gulls flew in the distance, silhouetted by the sun and surrounded by the ocean. Enormous barges and merchant ships floated in the ocean, signalling in another hectic day in the markets.

Tim flipped over in his bed, shutting his eyes tightly. He wanted to blot out the happenings of last night, to fall and lose to the darkness sleep always brought in. Yet his mind was a mess, frenzied with worry and invaded with the wavery image of sharp pale eyes. He shuddered in his blankets and was assaulted with something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Sadness.

-----

"This is why I love eating chocobo," Madcat chirped happily to himself as he rotated the makeshift spit.

His steed, the present meal for the mercenary, spun slowly over the fire, glistening red as it cooked. Madcat eyed it hungrily. He had been travelling all day on the chocobo and only now did he reach land. He was so starved that he slaughtered his chocobo and proceeded to cook it.

"Hated birds anyway" Madcat chuckled.

The forest was lush and smelt real. Madcat didn't really know how to describe it. His jobs were always in the
shadows of cities, where no one spoke of what they witnessed and carried on with their miserable lives. He subconsciously gripped his black coat closer to himself, suddenly awkward in the open light of the forest. Here, it was quiet and free of human presence and he was uncomfrotable with it. It was like a wolf in a garden, it was terribly out of place.

Madcat ripped off a leg and bit into it savagely. He quickly filled himself and made little work of cleaning the temporary campsite. He stood, katana at side and a satchel perched over his shoulder and proceeded to walk.

***

He had been walking all day, and he was thankful for his battle-hardened body and endurance. The forest was thick and the tranquility still unnerved him somewhat. Even the sound of branches breaking and leaves crinkling beneath his heavy boots made his instincts rise. Madcat flicked some stray red hair that tickled his olive eyes and gripped his katana.

"Who's out there?!" he yelled, his voice rippling with danger and a promise of much violence.

The leaves shimmered, displacing mottled shadows on the forst ground. Madcat swirled around just in time
to intercept the dart that whizzed where his neck had been. The dart landed softly in the leaves and Madcat srutinized it. It was simple in design, but the green oil that leaked from the tip was probably a lethal plant extract, meant to kill on the spot. Madcat narrowed his eyes and his senses broadened.

To the left! The katana whistled through the air and a chink was heard as another dart landed on the ground.

His boots thundered as he made a mad dash throught the forest, darts raining down in furious succession. A blurr whizzed by and he grimaced as he found that a dart had grazed through his shoulder. He blinked rapidly, the world around him dulling as he found his limbs dragging slower, as if held down suddenly by invisible weights.

'Dammit!' his teeth gnashed against each other 'I've gotta hold on. I've got to... go to....'

Something sparkled ahead and he picked up a distinct rushign sound.

The last thing Madcat felt before falling into darkness was the rushing of the river as he threw himself in it.

--------

Angellis peered up through her strawberry hair to study the new recruit in the group. Admittedly, Jay was an agile warrior; she could tell from the way he carried himself with that staff. But he appeared way too young to be slaughtering monsters and such yet.

The sunlight glinted over his fur as he turned to stare at the group of people trekking steadfastly behind him. Jay had self-appointed himself as a scout as they walked along the path leading out of the forest. Aaron had been right. The forest wasn't as endless as she had thought.

She stretched, loping her arms behind her head, relaxed and happy to see the end of those damn trees.

"After we get out of these forests, we should just go left on the crossroads and end up at a carriage station. We should have enough money to get a ride to Illywere," Aaron supplied, scratching at some stubble on his jaw, "actually, it's strange that me made it here so quickly."

"Why's that?" asked Angellis.

"For one thing," Aaron began, "there are no troops or any merchant that we've met while we trekked here. Illywere is supposed to be a bustling port city, one of the biggest in the world, and yet, we have yet to meet a merchant."

Angellis glanced to her side as a lithe, woman cloaked in shadowy garb shrugged. "Well, maybe business is
just slow you know? It's probably just a coincidence."

The elf glanced upwards, pausing to think and then shrugged noncommittedly, "Yeah, I'm probably just being
paranoid."

Silver nodded, "Yup. You old codger."

Aaron glared at Silver playfully and angellis couldn't help but join in, "Need us to help you with your boots? We don't want you to break any bones walking."

"ARGH! I'm not _that_ old!" he cried as he stared at them with hands on his hips, "I'm only in my late 20s!"

"Oooh. Old enough to be mummified!" Angellis grinned and dodged the playfully bap at her head by Aaron.

"Angellis, he's old enough to be a relic!" Silver mirrored her mishchievousness and stepped on Aaron's foot
dodging his spear.

"OW!" the elf cried and he recoiled, banging into a surprised Jay. The two tumbled onto the dirt road, coughing from the dust.

Silver and Angellis smirked as they looked down on the ruly duo. Aaron immediately got up and brushed himself
off, apologizing to Jay. Jay sat up and stared disdainfully at his neat pants that were covered in dirt and grass now and sighed.

"Look, they're just pants. If you intend to survive this "Rite" of yours, then you can't expect not to get dirty now and then," Silver said lazily as she helped his hesitant form up.

'With us though, you're gonna have to expect to get dirty ALL the time!" joked Angellis.

"Great," Jay replied, rolling his shoulders and adjusting the weight of his staff hung around his shoulders. Suddenly, his ears twitched and he gazed forward, "there's a carriage coming this way."

Indeed, as the group stared into the distance, there was an Imperial carriage rolling on the road towards them. Jay walked forward and his irises dilated as he used his extraordinary sight to make out details.

His mouth beset into a frown, "Guys, if I'm not mistaking, that looks like a noble insignia on it."

"Really? Can you see what animal or crest it is?" inquired Aaron as he sided Jay.

The yellow of Jay's eyes glinted and he mumbled, "Looks like.... two branches of olive crowning a.... lion with a serpent tail?"

Aaron arched an eyebrow, but the blue-grey of his eyes clouded stormily, "Really? What in the world is that
man doing here?"

"Who?" Angellis and Sivler chorused.

The older man turned to them, "Dayes. Curtis Dayes Esquire or Illywere and part of the Royal Family Board of Advisors."

He breathed in and he glared at the distance, "One of the most cruelest, most spiteful and deceitful men
you'll eevr meet."

-----

The butterflies ducked and looped, dancing amongst the dandelions that were crowned in little yellow manes. It was a waltz of a sort, the kind of beauty that only Nature could ever come up with.

Curtsie, bow, good evening lady, sir.

Then, breathe in and one, two, three turn, one, two three.

Wings, fingers touching gently then spreading and repeating. One, two, three.

A flaming chunk of ash flew into the dance, splitting the butterflies apart like frightened swans.

A haggard looking man with slanted, unassuming eyes tossed his cigar from the carriage carelessly. He checked his pocket watch and rubbed a thick silver, engraved ring unconsciously. He shut the navy curtains of the carriage to block the sunlight that streamed in. His blood-shot eyes made him look more dangerous than he already was. His briefly stroked his chest, playing with the fine materical of the bodice quietly. It was a peaceful ride, the chocobo's feet and the wheels of the carriage a steady beat on the road.

Curtis Dayes rubbed his temples and proceeded to sip a cup of wine to cool himself. If only dogs lay dead once they were killed, he wouldn't have to trouble himself through all this.

A voice cackled evilly inside him and craved for the blood of the mercenary that had dared reject his request. Curtis frowned deeply, furrows forming on the edge of his jaw.

The coachmaster suddenly slowed down and Curtis arched a brow in interest as loud voices began to penetrate the peaceful ride.

-------

A figure stole away through the alleys of Ilywere, stealthy and cautious. The musty smells of garbage and refuse was almost inhumain for this was the black market of the flourishing port city. Huddled in corners were thieves and dealers, their ragged clothes and gaudy tresures were an amazingly sharp contrast. Women wrapped in cloths of odd, mismatched patterns hung at doorsteps but mostly in the streets and brothels, offering their selves as wares.

But what was the most out of place was this figure, this person who wore a new cloak and untattered robes and was hurrying down the cobblestone alleys.

A hand struck out and the figure was flung aside in an instant. The turban which the figure wore, obscured the dull rage and indignance fired at the attacker.

Sleek and poised, a shadowy armoured figure came into light, drawing closer to the one planted at the wall.

"Well, have you done as I said?" Tashi inquired as she cast her blue eyes condenscendingly.

The figure jutted his jaw out and mumbled.

She snapped her blade to his throat and drew a light trail of blood.

"You speak clearly when I ask you to, mongrel," she hissed, eyes glinted brilliantly and knuckles turning white at contraining her blade from decapitating her prey at the moment.

"I said," the distinctly male voice replied, choking in fear, "I said I did it! I did as you told!"

Tashi smiled and roughly threw the man to the other side of the alley. What few people that hung there paid no heed or quickly turned their heads away because this sort of thing was normal in the slums. What you didn't see, will not come back to kill you in your sleep.

"Good boy," said she as the shadows concealed her features save for the maniacal grin of hers, "you may have your father back."

A lumbering mass rolled into the middle of the alley and the figure cried in relief and gathered his father in his arms. The dull light mangled the man's gashes and bruises, all from torture. He moaned in pain, eyelids flickering.

"If you tell anyone about this, I mean ANYONE, then I will swear that I will do something worst to your father than you could ever imagine."

And with that she marched out of the alley, leaving nothing but the echo of her footsteps.

The figure bent his head down and sobbed.

The father opened his eyes, "M-Mitchell?"

"Father..." Mitchell cried, watching his father mangled and helpless in his arms, "I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry."

A pause penetrated by short stiffled sobs.

"I'm so sorry Timothy."

------

The sheets rustled as Tim rolled over in his slumber.

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