Consequence

     After the press conference, the Champions continued southward. They took to the forested cliffs overlooking the shoreline. For some, the constant rush of the waves was a comfort. For others, it grated on the nerves.

     Harata was pleased with the outcome of the press conference. The Media had asked them all a plethora of questions. Not all of the answers had been to Kat’s liking, but the overall effect seemed to have been positive. Quite a few of the journalists had asked to travel with them. Of course, their requests had been denied, with Harata claiming the sensitivity of their mission.

     “Fabulous,” Keisuke remarked caustically. “Now we’ll have these monkeys trying to tail us as well. Good job.”

     They’d waited a few days before leaving the old fish-packing plant, checking the perimeter frequently for “unwelcome guests”. Kazuki, Mina, and Keisuke had each discovered members of the Media prowling around. Harata patiently asked them all to leave. When the coast finally seemed clear, the Champions departed as well.

     As they headed further south, Takaeyama appeared to grow increasingly agitated. He’d fallen ever more silent as they traveled, and was having trouble sleeping again. At mealtimes, he tended to toy with his food for a while before offering it to Kazuki, who was perpetually ravenous. Finally, Blue, feeling the pressure from Harata (driven to distraction by the thought of a relapse), decided to broach the topic.

     “Are you ok?” He said softly to the Corduran, who sat beside him. “You seem upset.”

     Takaeyama said nothing, but turned his face to look at Blue. As he’d guessed, the Night’s Herald’s face bore no expression. This irritated the Corduran further, though he couldn’t think of a reason why.

     “Takaeyama?”

     “Yes, no… I don’t know. I’m fine.” His voice was sullen.

     “Are you sure? Is it what the reporter said? About your family-“

     “I don’t want to talk about it.”

     “OK.”

     “I’ll be fine. I just want to get out of here, that’s all. I really want to get out of here.”

     “We will.”

     They sat in silence for a while. Takaeyama considered, just for a moment, opening up, spilling his guts, expressing the worry that gnawed inside and the attendant remorse. He’d never understand, thought the Corduran with a feeling of despondence. I don’t really want him to know anyway. Instead, fearing Blue would leave him alone in the dark, he asked,

     “Why don’t you tell me one of those crazy stories? I really liked the one about Terra.”

     At a loss for what to do one day, Blue had begun to tell stories of his travels on other Planes to Takaeyama. Surprisingly, the Corduran had taken to the tales of wild adventure, and would always brighten whenever Blue would tell one. He didn’t, however, believe a word of it.

     As Blue began his monologue, Takaeyama watched him intently. It was so strange, the way the Night’s Herald would move and speak, even smile, without losing the look of calm serenity that permeated his being. It was in his eyes, Takaeyama realized. It was as thought there was a shield, a wall of ice or glass that cut those windows from the soul within. Takaeyama found himself vowing silently that one day, somehow, he’d shatter that boundary, and watch whatever emotion swam to the surface. What the hell am I thinking? He asked himself, dragging his attention back to the story being told.

     “We’re being followed.” Keisuke delivered his report with something bordering on glee.

     He’d been set as rear guard, something Harata was loath to do. There was little choice available to the Clanless, however. He needed someone who knew what they were doing, and the Commander was an ideal candidate.

     “If you run off, I swear-“ Harata had said when the decision was made.

     “Relax,” Keisuke interrupted nonchalantly. “I want to kill you, not run away from you. I’m not a coward.”

     “Just insane.” The Clanless no longer had a shred of patience for the Angemal.

     “Whatever you say, Fearless Leader.”

     Keisuke walked off to talk to Mina about weaponry. At least he’d found someone who he could get along with. It just figured that it had to be the sociopathic weapons developer.

     Now he stood before Harata, mid-afternoon sunlight streaking through the trees and shining off his ebony hair.

     “The Media?”

     “Sorry to tell you,” Keisuke seemed anything but, “I’m fairly sure it’s the HeadHunters. I told you they’d find us after that escapade.”

     “Duly noted,” Harata answered blandly. Shit!

     That night, a meeting was held to discuss a plan of action. Kat sat white-faced in silence. Kazuki, beside her, chewed his lip worriedly. Keisuke refused to give any insight into the workings of the HeadHunters, stating flatly,

     “I will not sell out my Clan.”

     After much discussion and some hand wringing, Harata said,

     I say we make a stand. These guys aren’t going to give up. We know they’re out there, right now. We can face them like the heroes we’re supposed to be, rather than let them catch us by surprise like last time.”

     “Harata,” said Blue evenly, “perhaps we should only fight if we have to. If even one of us gets killed-“

     “I know, I know, but these guys aren’t just gonna go away.” He sighed. “They’ll do anything they can to catch us. We have to face this.”

     In the end, the Champions decided to do as Harata had suggested. The following day, they chose the clearing in which to make camp somewhat earlier than usual. The plan was to head out near sunset, and attack the HeadHunters in their own camp. They’d fall back to the clearing after the skirmish, for better or for worse. What to do from that point would be decided depending on the outcome of their attempt at the Angemal.

     The Champions, despite having been in a few difficult situations before, had never been so tense. It seemed as though each of them was made of tightly coiled wire. Frayed nerves and fear led to the death of both conversation and appetites. Blue, however, impervious to such human frailties as fear for his life, had already reconciled within himself the event to come, and went about his day as usual. Takaeyama, the perpetual raincloud that hovered around the Night’s Herald, seemed equally nonchalant, though his reasoning differed.

     “I don’t want to die, I guess,” he said in his usual sullen way, “but maybe it’s for the best.”

     “Don’t say that!” Chieko was quick to respond. “Anyway, we’re the Champions…” She trailed off, the old conviction that they were unharmable failing her. She felt edgy and nervous, though she’d never admit it.

     Mina, nearby, had been eavesdropping. She found herself battling with an array of emotions. True, she felt scared- who wouldn’t? She also felt a twinge of excitement. She’d see her work in the field. This experience could give her any number of ideas or insights. She’d finally know what it was to be a soldier- perhaps even to kill, not in cold blood as she was used to, but in the heat of battle.

     Keisuke, on the other hand, was quite familiar with the feelings of soldiers. He did as he always did before combat, his silence leaving Harata to wonder if the Angemal would turn against them.

     The Clanless felt he’d made the right decision, despite his nervousness. He just wished he could make himself believe that they’d all survive. Yes, the HeadHunters were outnumbered, nearly two to one. However, most of the Champions had never raised a hand against another human being. He wondered if they’d choke… or worse. His eyes invariably strayed to Kat whenever his thoughts took this turn.

     The Empirian was terrified. The only thought running through her mind was How can I survive this? How? Her movements became twitchy- freeze-frame static, jerking motion. Her wide, staring eyes were rapidly going as blank as Takaeyama’s.

     Ayame was trying to look at this as an opportunity. While the understanding that she could be killed frightened her, she tried hard to focus on the idea that she might take down a HeadHunter first. The Angemal made up the Takers. Sure, they were not the root of the oppression of her Clan, but they were a part of it. Perhaps this was her chance at revenge.

     Kazuki thought not of revenge, nor much of life and death. His mind, unable to process complexities, saw little more than what he believed to be fact. Nobody took on the HeadHunters. You eluded them if you could, but that was all. He knew he was about to do something very stupid, but this was the Legend. Nowhere in the Legend did it say that the HeadHunters would prevail. That was all he had to go on. True, he was afraid, but he couldn’t actually comprehend the idea of failure.

     Yukiiae, on the other hand, could imagine nothing else. She’d seen what the Angemal were capable of. Unlike Ayame, she cared nothing of revenge, thinking only of the desperation of this venture. They’d be slaughtered. I survived, she thought. I survived only to meet the same end as everyone I’ve ever loved. Her life had never seemed so pointless.

     And so, the Nine Champions and the Clanless set out to attack the HeadHunters. It was decided that Ayame, Kat, Chieko, Yukiiae and Kazuki would hang back a bit, as they were not as well trained as the others. When they arrived at the enemy camp, the Angemal were waiting for them.

     Shots rang out. Keisuke sprang forward, moving robotically, but with precision, to engage the nearest HeadHunter. The Commander disarmed his opponent of his gun quickly, but the other was fast to draw a blade. Soon the two were dueling with fury.

     Harata heard a strangled female voice cry out behind him, but he forced himself to focus on the melee ahead. Using one of the guns pilfered from the first party of HeadHunters, he fired upon one of the black-clad men, but missed narrowly. Suddenly, he was tackled from the side and toppled. He hit the ground with an oomph! and felt the muzzle of a pistol pressing on his neck, just under his jaw.

     Blue moved with the same silent precision with which he did all things. His objective eyes searched the gathered enemy, seeking but one: the Radio Man. The HeadHunters had seemed to be expecting them, so it was possible they’d already called for backup… but if not… The Night’s Herald took to the trees, moving through the dark branches until he could descend upon the one he sought.

     For a split second, Takaeyama warred with the guilt of what he was about to do. To use the Gift before the eyes of other Clans was forbidden long ago… but from what the others told him, he’d already done so. Was being aware of what he was doing any worse than doing the deed without comprehension? He stood and stared while the HeadHunter approached. The man raised his gun.

     Mina fired upon the Angemal nearest her. Years of testing her prototypes, often on less than willing subjects, made her a quick and accurate shot. The man crumpled, screaming, to the ground and she felt a quick exhilaration as she stalked forward to find her next target.

     With a scream of fury, Ayame sprang from the brush. She’d seen Harata fall, knew he was seconds from having his life snuffed out. She fired upon the HeadHunter, hitting him. Rage consumed her, blinding her with a red haze. She heard shot after shot, barely registering anything but hatred.

     “Aya, Aya, stop.”

     Harata’s voice cut through the fog.

     “Stop. He’s dead.”

     She’d have had to stop anyway. She’d unloaded a full cartridge on the prone Angemal.

     With a rustle, Blue descended upon his Angemal target. The man looked up, but it was too late. The Night’s Herald delivered a crushing blow to the HeadHunter’s upturned face, stunning him. He was quickly finished by the sapphire-capped blade. Without a moment’s hesitation, Blue turned to destroying the radio equipment.

     Why do I even care? Takaeyama could see down the black hole that was the barrel of the gun. He could see his death lurking there. There had been betrayal, but he could no longer see who had betrayed who. Had his Clan turned on him, or he on them? It didn’t matter. That door was closed, but another had opened- one he’d been ignoring. With a smirk, he called forth the force he’d been gauging in the air around him. He had a purpose- maybe not the one he wanted, but a purpose all the same. He felt laughter rising within as the man before him was immolated in a pyre of blue flame.

     It shouldn’t have taken Keisuke as long as it did to dispatch his rival. While the young HeadHunter had fought to his utmost, the Commander seemed no more than an automaton, neither aware of nor caring about what he was doing. When he was finished, he noted that the Night’s Herald had already destroyed the radio equipment. Little good would it do…

     Mina, intent on locating another foe, hadn’t noticed the man lurking in the dark beside her. As she strode by, focused straight ahead, his blade bit into her flesh, slicing a gash in her side. So this is pain.

     Out of the dark, a HeadHunter fired on Ayame. She gasped, stumbling, and Harata sprang to guard her. The Clanless felt another bullet whiz by as he heard the sound of the gun. He heard a bellow and a high-pitched cry behind him as the forms of Kazuki and Chi came bursting from the undergrowth.

     The HeadHunter snickered as he stood over Mina, who clutched her side and groaned. He cocked his gun, ready to deliver a bullet to her skull.

     Blue, intent on the radio equipment, hadn’t noticed the man behind him, moving silently through the darkness. It wasn’t until he heard the gunfire that he’d known anyone was there. The bullet missed him- only because he happened to shift to the side. The next bullet wouldn’t.

     Kazuki’s giant form slammed into the HeadHunter, stunning him and knocking him to the ground. Chi, pistol forgotten, started frantically kicking him in the head. She was terrified, barely aware of what she was doing. The man struggled, but Kazuki put him in a headlock. If it hadn’t been so dark, they’d have seen the Angemal’s face slowly turning purple.

     Harata stood up straight, surveying the battle. He could see, by the light of blue fire, Keisuke moving jerkily to the left, Takaeyama laughing, and the HeadHunter advancing on Blue. Quietly, he moved forward, hoping to cut off the Angemal’s advance before he reached the Night’s Herald.

     Keisuke, upon hearing Mina’s cry, had gone to her aid. He found his Clansman standing over her slouching form, ready to end her life. With a battle cry, he fell on his opponent. Steel clashed and the two Angemal fought each other, Keisuke still moving with jerky, robot motion. Despite his lack of passion, he still came out the victor. He turned to Mina, saying,

     “Get back to camp.”

     She nodded, grimacing, and set off.

     Harata couldn’t bring himself to stab a man in the back. He called out an ancient challenge in the language of his Shaen.

     He was shocked when it was returned.

     He recognized this man. They’d trained together in the Otherlands, so many years ago in Harata’s youth. The man drew his blade. Years of battle had honed his skill, just as years of practice had honed Harata’s. They fell upon each other with fury.

     “I know what you were, even if you’ve forgotten,” snarled the HeadHunter. “And I’ll live to tell everyone.”

     Steel whined on steel as their blades clashed. The Clanless was consumed with a need to silence this man, a need greater than any he’d ever felt. Already, Blue was watching. Another man might’ve shown shock, but the Night’s Herald showed no sign of even hearing the Angemal’s words. The HeadHunter was far easier to defeat than Keisuke had been, and Harata was done with him in minutes. He turned to face Blue, but was distracted by a rustling in the brush behind.

     “Fall back!” Harata cried as he rushed through the disheveled HeadHunter camp. “Fall back!”

     The HeadHunters had already called for reinforcements. Those reinforcements had arrived.

     The Champions moved hurriedly back toward their own camp. Shots rang through the woods. They scattered.

     Mina, already on the way back, tried to quicken her pace. The tear in her side ached in protest. Takaeyama, upon hearing Harata’s words, turned and started edging into the forest. He crept slowly. He’d made his decision, now he was ready to follow through with it. Blue hurried on, making sure Chieko and Kazuki followed. They separated, Kazu and Chi going to make sure Ayame and Kat were in tow.

     Later, Harata stumbled into the clearing, supporting Mina. The Champions’d had to hold off the advancing Angemal who’d come to the aid of their fallen brethren. Every one of them had to fire on the enemy, holding off the advance, but that had scattered them even further. When Harata entered the clearing, he saw only Chieko and Ayame, huddled against each other in misery.

     Mina was barely conscious, leaning heavily on Harata, who walked her over to the other girls. Chieko, who had a few minor abrasions on her face, said,

     “Where is everybody?”

     “I don’t know,” answered Harata, easing Mina to the ground. The Sabian slumped over, groaning.

     “Aya?” said the Clanless.

     “I’m ok,” answered the Dauern through clenched teeth. Blood ran from her shoulder.

     Takaeyama was walking through the forest. He’d taken out a few more HeadHunters, and now the woods around him was quiet. He’d walk back to camp. He’d accept it- he was a Champion. As he went, a sense of peace bloomed within him. All the things that had happened- he could accept them now. As he walked, he suddenly heard a sound- a snapping sound and a muffled “Oh!”, then the sound of a body hitting the ground. Curiosity won out, and he knew he could move silently through the brush, so he went to investigate.

     Yukiiae stumbled into the camp, half carrying Kat. She set the Empirian gently on the ground, whispering a soft word, then moved quickly to the others.

     “Mina and Ayame are hurt,” Harata informed her promptly. The Decameron looked over both the women.

     “Harata, put pressure here.” She indicated the place where the neck meets the shoulder and gestured toward Ayame. She turned to the Sabian, who’d passed out.

     Takaeyama approached the place where he’d heard the sound, making as little noise as he could. He saw a figure lying prone on the ground- one dressed in outdated pleated pants, homespun robes…

     “Blue!”

     The Night’s Herald picked up his head, his eyes searching for a face to match the voice he heard. Takeyama reached him rapidly.

     “What happened?”

     “Man Trap,” said Blue matter-of-factly, as though discussing a brand of tea. His face still bore the same untroubled expression. His right leg was caught in the jaws of the trap, a trickle of blood leaking from between the teeth.

     “What do I do?” asked Takaeyama frantically.

     “Nothing,” answered Blue calmly. “We should wait for the others to find us.”

     “You’ve got to get out. The Angemal-“

     “Know the trap is here and will check it later.”

     “What if the others don’t come?”

     “You should go and tell them. Yukiiae or Kazuki can open the trap.”

     “I don’t want to leave you.”

     “I’ll be ok. You should go.”

     “I’m going to open the trap,” said Takaeyama firmly, in a tone quite unlike his usual noncommittal mumble. “Do you know how?”

     “Yes, but it’s very dangerous. You really should-“

     “Tell me!”

     “Takaeyama, the trap is rigged. If you try to open it, there’s a chance you’ll be poisoned.”

     “I don’t care! Tell me how to open it.”

     “It’s a really unpleasant poison.”

     “Tell me! I’ll try it anyway. If I leave you here, the Angemal will kill you.”

     With a sigh, Blue calmly explained how to open the trap. Avoiding the poison needle within was a tricky business without the keys the HeadHunters carried.

     Takaeyama did the best he could, but he shook too much from nervousness to perform with the precision the task required. In the end, the trap sprang open, but there was a quiet snick. The safety trap was sprung. The jaws of the Man Trap fell open, allowing the blood to spurt freely from Blue’s leg. Meanwhile, Takaeyama stared at the tiny red drop on his finger. He felt warm.

     Back at the camp, there was a crashing sound and Kazuki came thrashing through the undergrowth. He just stood there, breathing heavily for a moment, a multitude of minor cuts and bruises all over his exposed skin. Everyone, even Yukiiae, looked up at him.

     “I think they’re gone,” he whispered rather loudly.

     Yukiiae turned back to Mina. She was doing the best she could under the circumstances- poor lighting, dirt, lack of supplies. Mina’s wound was serious, and she needed surgery as soon as possible. Working under the light of only the camp lanterns, Yukiiae prayed she was doing the right thing. As soon as she’d stitched up Mina’s side, she turned to Ayame.

     Blue was dead. That was the only thing Takaeyama was aware of as he walked ever forward, trying to reach the camp. He’s dead, and I will be too.

     After the trap had been opened, they’d bandaged Blue’s leg with torn strips from his white robe. They’d done the best they could, but still blood leaked through to saturate the rough white fabric. When he realized that Takaeyama had been poisoned, Blue insisted on walking, limping along, leaning on the Corduran as little as possible.

     “You have to go slowly,” the Night’s Herald explained. “The more you strain yourself, the faster the venom works. Slow down, calm yourself.”

     Takaeyama tried. As they struggled along, Blue talked, peacefully as ever, of the most mundane things to the most fantastic, finally coming to rely on the one thing he knew Takaeyama would respond to- his stories. He told tales of his adventures that he’d never told to anyone- even his forays into that darkest of places, Pandemonium. He spun his fantastic tales as they plugged along, hoping to keep Takaeyama from panic, never caring for the toll it would take on himself.

     Finally, after enough blood had leaked from the wounds in his leg, Blue could walk no longer. He fainted, and Takaeyama was forced to carry him. It was a while since Blue had ceased stirring in his arms, and the Corduran was sure that he was dead. He moved on automatically, beginning to lose sense of what he was doing. His limbs had become heavy, his fingertips burned as though with pins and needles, and the air scorched his lungs. He closed his eyes, pushing himself forward, trying to reach the camp before the poison had run its course.

     Yukiiae was stitching the wound in Ayame’s shoulder when she felt those around her look up. She too allowed her eyes to stray to the edge of the clearing. Suddenly, Chieko’s voice rang through the silence.  

     “Oh, crap.”

     Takaeyama stood at the edge of the clearing, holding a ghost-white Blue and trembling.