Dreams of the Quill

by Flak

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One

Verga’s spring moon is awe-inspiring to behold. The night sky is tinted a dark violet by the pollen of countless flowers suddenly blossoming countrywide. Brilliant rays of moonlight stream through the pollen and become vibrant beams of color, vivid spears of lilac and orchid. The young, the lovers, the bored, the tired—they are all invigorated by the stunning display that nature puts on the night of the full moon. Artists are known to have gone mad attempting to name all the shades of purple present in the sky. Amongst the inhabitants of Verga, the words “purple sky” are synonymous with “the busy week of the early spring full moon” as a result of this special phenomenon’s appeal to foreigners. During the first week of April, the cities flood with travelers of all sorts. From all over they pour in, veritable tidal waves of men and women from Eldra’s poorest hamlet, from central Libra’s largest palace, even from the most remote reaches of Terra’s northern marshes.

It’s a phenomenon in and of itself that these people of all walks of life, for the sake of this one shared interest, blend together and become one. Indeed, Verga City is the largest national and socio-economic mixing bowl of peoples, and at this time of year the most densely populated city in all of Libra. Year after year, the flocking crowds return like pilgrims to their holy land—this land bathed in murasaki moonlight. It is not an easy trip for most. The majority of those who come spend a month on their journey alone, being unable to afford steeds or other methods of transportation. The roads from Eldra are poorly defined and often dangerous, with bandits and marauders taking advantage of the sheer numbers of people to pass their operations off as small-scale. The sounds of creaking wheels and panting animals are associated with the impossibly busy thoroughfares, and the cities fill with the heat and smell of bodies.

Residents of Verga greet the incoming people in a variety of manners, ranging from opening their doors to turning their noses up in disdain. One Vergan might gladly share the wonder of his country’s spring while another might look down on the outsider who seeks it so fervently. One inhabitant of little less than eleven years had his own question as he looked down upon the swarms of people crowding the streets of Verga City.

“But why don’t they simply pick the flowers?” Gem wasn’t particularly asking his companion this so much as posing a rhetorical question. He absentmindedly ran his right hand through his hair after speaking, and turned to look up at the sky. A cool breeze was fluttering around, and up on the rooftops, above the warmth of jam-packed bodies, Gem felt a bit chilly. He held his loose-fitting cloak close about him as he crouched down, gathering his body heat and looking more closely into the sea of heads.

“How do you mean?” Gem had become accustomed to the demon’s rasping voice, but still he started upon hearing its jarring metallic sound. He looked over his shoulder, back at the gray-robed figure standing at the apex of the roof’s slope. The demon’s red eyes shone steadily from the shadow cast by its cowl, never blinking or shifting. “How do you mean, kid?”

Gem’s own eyes, a calm, passive gray, gazed straight at his demon companion. For minutes, their eyes locked on eachother, until Gem broke the connection and turned back to examining the crowds. The wind rustled through his shock of hair—an intense green in the moonlight—and played with the knot of his headband. Facing away and down from the source of light, the metal plate that served as a forehead protector was shrouded in darkness, its red center-set jewel dim and unlit.

From his position atop a five-story inn, Gem could make out a large portion of the city. No matter where he looked, the streets were crowded. Even the back alleys were full of loitering travelers—emptied kegs and storage crates made excellent vantage points for those who wished to observe the moonlight. Gem could see the young of the arrivals, enthused by the unnatural colors of this night, clambering around on the few trees that were scattered within the city limits. Some of the more able-bodied visitors made their way to spots such as Gem’s, a low crouch atop a high building. Some stood basking in the moonlight, eyes closed, drinking in the unnaturally sedative sensation caused by the pollen of the Vergan flowers. Some, with wide eyes and mouths, jostled others for a better view of it—the rose-pink moon set against the deep purple sky.

Having experienced this festival of sorts eleven times, Gem had grown weary of the crowds and the busyness of the city, things that repeated themselves every year. After living in Verga for a few years he had lost his own enthrallment with the purple sky, but he had found something else to amuse himself during this long night—the feelings of the crowd. All he needed was to find a face, the face of an outsider enjoying the novelty, and, picturing that face, close his eyes—and he’d feel their awe.

“The petals possess the same properties as the pollen, Ji. Any Libran should be able to collect a few, carry them home, crush them, and relive this night.” Shortly after speaking, Gem smiled and closed his eyes. He’d found his target. A construction zone full of kids and two shops down the way, and there stood a young woman upon the roof, arms outstretched, three feet of hair billowing softly with the encouragement of the air’s gentle movements, gazing up at the moon. Gem’s insides began to warm as he felt the joy of letting go of one’s worries and enjoying something new, something beautiful. A simple pleasure—a purple sky.

A rough sensation on his shoulder dismissed the spell immediately.

“You’re not doing that idiotic thing again tonight, are you?” The demon had removed one of its gauntleted hands from beneath its robe and placed it beneath Gem’s ear. The gauntlet resembled a giant metal claw, black steel capable of ripping a man’s organs out with little effort. “You can’t afford to close your eyes.”

“Aww, Ji, it’s the night of the festival… let’s enjoy it!” A bit of his true self—that of a man who has only recently become such—shone through as Gem abandoned proper speech and let a playful tone reach his words. He weakly formed a lopsided smile as he faced the demon.

“Need I point out that you should be securing the entrances to the city right now? At this moment, the city is at its busiest. Anyone could slip in and out amidst the crowds with no suspicion, and not a single glance his way. This is not a night to be dreaming.”

“If he escapes, he escapes… it’s just one chicken flown the coop.”

“It would be very sad, kid, if the illustrious Roof-runner Gem’s perfect record were marred due to simple indolence.”

“It’s not as if I asked for the title.” Gem shrugged nonchalantly and brushed the demon’s claw of his shoulder. “Serves the Underworld fan-boys right. I’m no one’s entertainment. Tonight, the moon takes center-stage.”

“You seem to forget that the reason you received an unwanted title was not sheer coincidence. As I recall, you have very little choice in the matter. Go secure the exits.”

“If you want him caught so badly, Ji, go secure the exits yourself. I’m taking tonight off.”

Gem lifted his toes slightly and slid down the roof a bit, allowing for some room to lie down on his back. Crossing his arms behind his head, he looked up into the sky, trying to re-conjure the image he’d had beneath his eyelids earlier.

“Cocky brat,” the demon snorted, and took off, the metal ring of his boots on the rooftop tiles quickly blending with and disappearing into the noises of the crowds. Gem smiled to himself a little more broadly once he was alone, and then slipped away into rapture. It wasn’t long before the lull in sounds was broken by the tap-tap of approaching footsteps, and Gem snapped into an upright position and glanced about. Rather than finding the demon returned, he saw a man in a large brown cloak standing with his profile against the full moon, panting heavily, face contorted with an all too rational mix of fear and confusion.

“What’s the news, man?”

“Run for it, sir, it’s all bad—” the stranger paused for breath and waited until the hyperventilating ceased. “There’s one or more terrifying demon in town, and all I can think of is ensuring that the crowds don’t panic.”

“Demon, you say? No, it couldn’t be…” Gem furrowed his brow as he rose to his feet, muttering to himself. “Pursuit from the Inferno?”

“Apologies sir, but you were saying?”

Gem turned and reexamined the other man, taking in every detail of his appearance. The blue eyes, the standard thief’s outfit of brown tunic, breeches, and coat, the tight-fighting brown leather cap that hid his hair.

“Hmm… you would not by any stroke of luck happen to be he who calls himself Pyrim?”

“Indeed I am, sir—Entities, did the Underworld send you after me?” The man backed away, his eyes widening.

“I’ll take that as an confirmation. In that case, the demon chasing you was most likely my companion.”

“Com-com-companion?! Since when has the Underworld allied itself with abominations such as those that spawn from the chasms of the Inferno? That’s nonsense, sir.” The man took a few more steps back, one gloved hand drawing a dagger from a sheath at his hip. His first intent was to wield a weapon as a precaution, but after a slow shake of Gem’s head, the thief’s grip on the hilt tightened threefold. “Stay away from me!”

“Were I operating on my own, I would have but this to say to you: ‘Don’t take my uncle’s name.’ As things stand, I believe that I have taken on the task of securing your capitulation and returning your person to the hands of our employer. Defecting from the Underworld is a sin punishable by death, according to the lawbreaker’s joke of a code of law we have. You should know this well, but whether or not your body is still that of a functioning human being when I carry it back with me is of no import to the sum I will receive as bounty. I believe that should clarify the situation a bit?” Gem took a step forward, reaching for the sheathes he had strung about his waist.

“Your uncle’s name? That doesn’t clarify anything one bit, you lunatic!” Pyrim yelled hysterically, his mental balance put off by the calm manner in which Gem had set forward such a substantial amount of unsettling information.

“Well sir, I didn’t think it would,” observed Gem as he launched forward, closing the distance between himself and his target in a matter of three seconds. Metal rang as his stubby twin blades clashed against Pyrim’s longer, more graceful dagger, and a few of the roof’s tiles loosened as feet slid across their smooth surface. For a brief moment, Gem’s face came close to Pyrim’s as they struggled against each other’s guard. “But would you not concur that a loud fight will only serve to alarm the public?”

“I don’t get you, man, I don’t get you!” Pyrim cried out at the top of his lungs, exerting himself and knocking Gem back, sending the green-haired youth staggering around in a dance-like search for secure footing. Pyrim’s yell didn’t reach the crowds below, the general tumult of the hordes of people drowning out any sounds from above. He took only the time to ensure that his push forward would not send him off balance before turning tail and fleeing.

“Gah, I really didn’t want to have to work this night,” Gem sighed as he watched Pyrim dash away over the rooftops. He had recovered his balance quickly, and stood still for a moment, contemplating the situation. “I suppose I had better do this right.”

He lost the last of the laziness that had come over him earlier and flung his cloak off. Experience told him that to perform at his highest level, he needed full range of motion, and a little chill wasn’t enough to require those encumbering folds. He dropped it where he stood and, with a single movement, sheathed both of his daggers. Hands free, he dashed off, his bare arms flashing as his fingers searched the many pouches and cases attached at his belt, checking his equipment.

After two minutes of pursuit, he had the target in his sights once more, and tossed a couple of projectile blades Pyrim’s way with a deadly underhand. The ex-Underworlder evaded one with ease and deflected the other with a casual fling of his wrist, not even looking back.

“As expected of one of us,” Gem commented, and gritted his teeth. “This might have been expected.” And with that, he was neck and neck with the other. “Yo!” He called cheerfully as Pyrim jumped sideways, away from him, onto a neighboring building’s roof. Gem whistled, impressed. “That’s quite a leap.”

“What will you do if I descend into the masses?” Pyrim shouted over the gap between the rooftops.

“I will have my demon rustle you out.”

“Bane above, you freaks will do anything, won’t you?”

“Were I operating on my own—”

“Yes yes, I know! Your uncle, huh? I’m not puzzling out your riddles, Underworld dog!” Pyrim spat Gem’s way, and the breeze carried his spittle forward, missing Gem’s face by mere inches.

“Unfortunately for me, I’m the dog of something much more frightening than a mere criminal organization.” Gem bowed his head as he said this, and Pyrim, seeing an opportunity, ignored the message and leapt back across the gap, dagger forward. A blast of purple shot past Gem’s face, and in an instant Pyrim was prone on his back at Gem’s feet.

“What the blazes are you doing, kid? He almost got you!” The demon’s rasp lifted Gem’s visage and brought him back to the immediate situation—Pyrim struggling to sit up, a large steel boot planted square on his chest, the demon facing Gem, its red eyes flaring angrily. “I couldn’t find him anywhere,” the demon continued, “so I returned to our spot, only to hear the clamor of combat. Glad I found you when I did.”

“What? You mean that prior to now you had not had contact with the target?”

“That is correct.”

“But he said…” Gem cursed under his breath, looking around with fear in his eyes.

“What did he say?” The demon looked down at the face of the helpless thief, a change in visual targets only noticeable by the tilt of the gray robe’s cowl. Those merciless crimson eyes continued to shine Gem’s way without pause.

“The man says a demon was chasing him, Ji. A demon.”

“A demon? Blazes! Has the Inferno finally started to act after all these years?” The demon stepped off of Pyrim and twirled around a few times, scanning the horizon of rooftops. “This is bad, Gem. You take care of the thief, I’ll go and scout out the opposition.”

“Watch out, Ji,” warned Gem, “in this moonlight, you’re much weaker than you’re accustomed to being at night.”

“I know that, brat.” And off the demon dashed, robes billowing in the wind kicked up by the sheer speed of its movements. Within a minute Gem’s companion was out of sight. Pyrim coughed once or twice before managing to sit up, whereupon a swift kick on Gem’s part laid him flat on his back once more.

“Well, sir, I don’t really have the will to keep this up much longer,” Gem began as he whipped out one of his two short blades and pressed it to his captive’s neck. “I’ll give you the option of dying at my hands or going through the torture our employer will surely have ready waiting for you. Your choice.”

“Neither!” shouted Pyrim defiantly. “If I truly am in the position to make a decision, then that decision is to not die at the hands of those who consort with demons!”

“Your choices are far more limited than that, man,” Gem warned, a stern look taking over his features. “And you had better select one before I eliminate them both.”

“How about I,” Pyrim growled, before his right arm flashed up and made contact with Gem’s solar plexus, “eliminate those choices for you?” His captor stumbled aside in minor shock as Pyrim leapt upright and brought his dagger around in his left hand, slashing at Gem’s head. A few tufts of green hair broke away from the rest as Gem barely dodged the vicious slice. He had no sooner regained his balance than a second attack came his way, one that he blocked easily with a swift positioning of his own dagger.

“I don’t get it,” Pyrim muttered with each successive attack as he pressed on. Gem dodged and deflected each attack with time left only to take a step back and stabilize his stance. “I don’t get it. I don’t get it. I don’t get it!” A crescendo became evident with each passing blow as Pyrim’s voice grew louder and louder.

After a couple minutes, Gem found himself standing on the edge of the roof on which they were fighting. If their current pattern of attack and defend continued, he would be thrown off and into the crowd, and, from this height, most likely to his death. Even as he registered this fact, Pyrim had begun his next swing. Gem’s eyes narrowed as he worked out how he would jump forward, under the blow, hopefully bowling his opponent over and regaining room to move about. The thief’s dagger seemed to approach in slow motion as Gem’s arms flashed down from their defensive positions to waist, as Gem’s knees bent, as he readied himself to launch forward. And then, just then, mid-swing, Pyrim said something different.

“One of our people, and still you talk just like them!”

Gem froze where he was in a low crouch, those soft gray pools of his eyes becoming raging black vortexes of chaos as his mind spun in circles. Pyrim’s attack swung high, and he stumbled backwards clumsily in order to not go tumbling over his adversary and off the roof. He paused as he saw Gem look up at his face and listened closely as the dazed man’s mouth began moving.

“Our, as if we had some connection of some kind,” Gem mumbled, not blinking once.

“What’s wrong now, Underworlder?” Pyrim asked derisively. “Surprised I could keep up with you?” In Gem’s perception, Pyrim stood against the moon, tall and dark, showered in purple light. Who was this man who stood so ominously against the night’s beauty? Who was this man who’d just insinuated that he and and Gem shared more in common than the Underworld?

“Family.” Gem mouthed the word with barely a whisper of voice behind it.

“You mean you didn’t know? It’s a unique trait, cousin,” Pyrim smiled, his teeth a dull gray in the shade that masked his face. “It’s a trait unique to our family.” So saying, he grasped his cap and pulled it off, revealing a short crop of bright green hair. Gem’s mouth moved but no sound issued from it as he attempted to comprehend the situation. Never since his childhood, never since his time spent struggling on the streets of a tiny hamlet in Eldra, had he seen another person with the green hair that marked them an outcast, a descendant of the exiled branch of the Mana Line. A stigma, even amongst the other mercenaries in the Vergan Underworld, Gem’s green hair had meant nothing but strife throughout his days. Since the last living person he’d known to have it died, he’d seen himself as alone in the world, without family.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go easy on me now, cousin. You know how the Underworld sees favoritism!” Pyrim brandished his weapon and waited for Gem to rise—a slow and mechanical process—before smiling and jumping forward, bringing his dagger to bear.

With hawk-like precision, Gem’s empty hand homed in on Pyrim’s wrist and caught it a mere foot from his head. With a single squeeze of Gem’s fingers, the blade fell to the roof tiles. Pyrim tried to pull back, but the blood flow in his arm had already been disrupted and his circulation was failing. He struggled against Gem’s grip, but, even using his other hand against Gem’s fingers, he couldn’t free himself.

“Let me go!” he cried out, desperation setting in. “If you’re going to kill me—”

“Quiet down,” commanded Gem in a low voice. “They’re close.” He swiftly dropped to his knees, pulling his catch into an awkward crouch. He looked around furtively, his eyes returned to their calm gray.

“What’s this all about now?” Pyrim demanded angrily, his body twitching as he vainly attempted to free his arm. “What—” The thief was cut off as Gem sheathed his dagger in a flash and place his hand over his captive’s mouth. Sounds of blades meeting emanated from an alley four buildings over.

“I can and will explain the situation in depth once we’re outside the city, but for now I believe a shorter version will do. The demon that saved me from you just before was not ‘my’ demon; I am ‘his’ human. I have been for nigh on eleven years of my life, ever since my mother died of disease in Eldra. I am, in the same manner as you are, a descendant of the Disgraced Gem. I am Legend Reborn.”

The roar of the crowds below seemed insignificant as the sound of boots falling heavily on roof-top tiles grew louder. The moon had not yet reached its apex and the sky shimmered that elusive color between purple and pink, bathing the entire city in surreal serenity. The footsteps came to a halt as the gray-robed demon appeared next to the spot where the two knelt. Its red eyes scanned the scene, and then the night’s calm was shattered by what sounded to be a wheezing cough. Another, and another, and yet a fourth split the night. The demon was laughing.

And it was wielding a shining sword stained blue with demon ichor.

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Part 1: Gem Chapter SelectPrologueChapter OneChapter TwoChapter ThreeChapter FourChapter FiveChapter SixChapter SevenChapter EightChapter NineChapter TenChapter ElevenChapter TwelveChapter ThirteenChapter Fourteen Part 2: Mist Chapter SelectInterludeChapter FifteenChapter SixteenChapter SeventeenChapter EighteenChapter NineteenChapter TwentyChapter Twenty-oneChapter Twenty-twoChapter PoniesChapter Twenty-threeChapter Twenty-fourChapter Twenty-fiveChapter Twenty-six Part 3: Julien Chapter SelectChapter Twenty-sevenChapter Twenty-eight

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