Bacorium Legacy (49 page)

So did sending for the Allmans mean that he had figured it out? Did Zaow have some sort of secret plan to stop the war from happening even as it knocked on his door, demanding that he come and face it?

Was Luca the answer? It was odd timing, that the son of the man who had killed Manorith would appear just as Zaow sent for a team to deal with Manorith's son. Did Zaow believe that he could somehow do to Zinoro what Lodin had done to Manorith?

“She has a lot of weight on her shoulders,” Jared continued, after taking another drink. “And yet she remains so strong, so full of hope and belief. She really believes in her father's words - that peace really can exist, even in a world like this. It's a shame that she has to give up so much for her cause. She doesn't deserve the burden that has been placed upon her.”

Luca looked over at Jared. The man's eyes were cast down on the wood of the bar he was leaning on, distant and filled with longing and regret. Luca knew why he felt the way he did. They all did. The way he doted on her, and rushed to protect her from even the slightest of threats...

“She really means a lot to you,” Luca said to him, thinking of his own connection with Emila.

Jared nodded. “We grew up together. From an early age, I was trained to be her protector. Normally, I would not have seen her much, being the princess and all, but she was no ordinary princess. She had a fire in her, and the captain of the guard, Gareth, he trained her in secret. Well, I'm sure that the king knew, but he pretended not to notice. In any case, Selphie and I spent a lot of time together. We were close friends, in spite of the fact that I was a commoner, and she was the princess of my kingdom.”

He took a long drink - longer than any of the others - and when he set his mug down, he had finished it off.

“But no matter what we feel, we can never be together. She is the princess, and she will sacrifice her personal happiness for the sake of her kingdom - and for her people. She has already been sworn to something that is not me.”

Luca blinked. The way he said that - it seemed the feelings were reciprocated. Or at least they would be, were it not for duty getting in their way.

Jared looked down at his empty mug and pushed it away. He seemed to have realised how much the alcohol had loosened his tongue, because the next thing he said was, “I'm going to sleep now. We've another long day of travel ahead of us. You should do the same.”

The guard rose, picking up his massive halberd and taking it with him upstairs. Luca sat alone at the bar, feeling his solitude.

He looked down at the mug of beer in his hands. He finished it off in a few drinks, and then poured himself another. After finishing that, he poured a third. And then a fourth. After finishing that, he set the mug aside. His head was spinning, and he felt like he would throw up if he drank anymore.

Luca couldn't be sure how much time had passed since Jared had left. It was certainly quite late, but he had no desire to go to sleep. Part of that had to do with the fact that, once again, he was sharing a room with Emila. And he was rather afraid of what might happen if he went up there now. She was likely already asleep. But perhaps she was not, and if he went up there now, they would end up fighting again. Or they might make up, and then his intoxicated mind might lead him to do something he would regret in the morning.

Instead, Luca decided that a little fresh air would do him good. He stepped outside, the night air cool but not cold. It was just refreshing enough to clear his head a bit. He started to wander. He stumbled a bit at first, but eventually he managed to find his footing.

He was filled with so many doubts. Doubts about his father, doubts about his plans of revenge, doubts about Emila, doubts about Selphie's mission of peace. He felt lost, wandering through life without a clear focus.

Things used to be so much simpler, back in the old days when it was just him and his father. They had passed through so many odd places - Samgo, Sendora, Mainyu, and lastly, the Arimos. They had fought so many enemies, from monsters to bandits. Nothing had ever deterred Lodin. The man had been a fighter unlike any Luca had ever seen, his age and world-weariness doing nothing to slow him down. Luca used to watch him with awe, cutting down groups of armed men like they were made of butter, and once finished, sheathing his sword with a grin. Luca now knew how much pain Lodin had hid behind that grin, but he had never let his regrets burden him. Though he had spent fourteen years hiding from Zinoro, Lodin had never been haunted by him.

It had already been months since that day, when Luca had watched Zinoro kill his father in that frozen hell-hole. He was still plagued by nightmares. Luca didn't understand how one could just let that go. He didn't understand how Lodin had forsaken his wife and second child, all to save his firstborn son. Had Lodin truly been free of the guilt, or had he just been good at hiding it?

Ash had spoken ill of Lodin. Marcus had spoken ill of Lodin. But Luca would not forsake his father's legacy. They had not known the man. He had. He could judge Lodin where they could not.

Lodin deserved justice. And if Luca just left with Emila, to go hide somewhere, Lodin would never get it.

Luca had wandered, so lost in his thoughts he had not been paying attention to where he was going. He was in the woods, quite a distance away from town. He was walking alongside a river, making his way up a tall hill. The change in elevation was what had caught his attention - his tired and sluggish body requiring extra effort to get up the hill. Turning around, he could see the faint orange twinkle of the few lights that remained lit in the town at the late hour. He really ought to go back now, and return to the inn and go to sleep.

He could hear a sound, though, coming from the atop the hill. It was a loud roaring sound - probably a waterfall. He took a few more steps, going up the hill a bit more until he could see it - there, at the top of the hill was indeed a small waterfall that was feeding the river he had been following. Well, he had come this far already - he might as well go see the falls.

He continued his way up the hill, forcing his exhausted feet to keep moving. Why he was making himself go up this hill to see this waterfall was beyond him - he didn't really care that much about it. Perhaps he was stalling. Perhaps he really didn't want to go back.

Luca stopped.

What was he doing? He couldn't run away. Even if he really wanted to, he was still bound to Emila through the Soul Tether. Even now he could feel the beginning of the strains that came when he drifted too far from her.

He could not leave her. Especially not now, when she so clearly needed his support. He couldn't give her what she really wanted, which was to give up on killing Zinoro and leave with her. But he could still be there for her. He could try to understand why she felt the way she did. She'd given up so much for him already, and she would continue to give to save him. How heartless would he be to take advantage of that?

There was a time when the thought would not have crossed his mind. Not too long ago, he was more than willing to drag Emila with him all the way to Acarienthia if he had to, taking advantage of what she had given him to be able to fight Zinoro without the chance of losing.

But something had changed. Whether it was the magick of the tether affecting his mind, or just his own foolishness, he had allowed himself to let this girl grow on him. And now the thought of hurting her pained him. He couldn't run away with her, but he couldn't take her with him either.

So the obvious solution was that he needed to leave her.

That was it, he decided. She would have to stay behind. Not here, though. It wasn't safe. Once they got to T'Saw, he would make her stay there. Emila would stay in T'Saw, while he would go with Selphie and Zaow and the others to the Elder Hall, and then onward to the inevitable conflict with Zinoro. There, he would avenge Lodin, and whatever happened to him afterward would happen. But at least he could do so without hurting Emila any more.

It wasn't what Luca wanted, and it certainly was not what Emila wanted, but it was for the best.

Now that he had gotten that out of his mind, he turned back around to return to the town.

Or he would have, were it not for the man standing on the path before him.

The figure blocking his path stood only a few paces away, wearing a black cloak with the hood drawn over his head. The man pulled back the hood, revealing a face with short black hair and a trimmed beard.

“Did you get my message?” Trunda asked.

“Y-you!” Luca exclaimed. He reached for his sword, his trembling hand only managing to grasp it after a few tries.

“Yes, me,” Trunda replied, approaching him with slow, confident strides. “Did you think I would just vanish? I told the princess, back in Serenite, that we would meet again. And I am here to pick things up where I left them. And the first part of that is getting you out of the way.”

Trunda charged forth like an uncoiled spring. Luca pulled
Siora
free from its sheath, but he was unable to swing in time. His body was simply moving too slowly - his combat reflexes were entire seconds off. Trunda brought his fist down, delivering a punch to Luca's gut that felt like a strike from a sledgehammer. Luca heard a crack, and even in his inebriated mind he knew that that was the sound of bones breaking.
 

Another punch - this one to Luca's sword arm - and he felt something shatter. When he looked over at his arm he saw it was bent in a way it should not have been. Thankfully he wasn't really feeling any pain. Perhaps he was simply in so much pain that his mind just couldn't handle it.

He wasn't thinking logically. He should be trying to get away. He couldn't fight Trunda as he was now - in fact, he wasn't even trying to fight now. He was backing away on legs that didn't feel strong enough to hold him up. Trunda simply continued to approach him, his steps confident. Luca saw now that Trunda wore no armour, having only the most basic of leather clothes to protect him. Not that it mattered - there was no way Luca could fight him now. All he could do was get away.

Trunda was upon him in seconds, delivering a series of brutal punches that sent Luca falling back, collapsing in the dirt and spitting out blood. He lay there for a moment, no longer able to even move, while Trunda stepped up and stood over him, staring down at his conquest.

Luca could definitely feel the pain now. And he felt guilty, because he knew that Emila had to be feeling the same pain he was.

“Pathetic,” said the man above him. “You stumbled out here, alone and drunk, knowing full well that I was after you? This is the second time I've beaten you so easily. What protection could you possible offer the princess when you can't even take care of yourself?”

The next thing Luca felt was Trunda's hand grabbing the back of his head, and then he was being dragged up the hill, towards the top of the waterfall he had been approaching earlier.

Unlike before, the connection with Emila was not growing weaker as he was taken away from her. He realised there was only one reason why that could be, but he prayed he was wrong.

“Weaklings like you have no place in this world,” Trunda said as he dragged Luca up the hill. “My king warned us about you. He said we were to take you to him if we found you. That he and he alone would be the one to kill you. But I will not dishonour my king by presenting him with such a pathetic sight. You can die here, along with your companions and that girl you're so fond of, and Zinoro's legacy will be secure.”

The sound of the waterfall was deafening now. They had stopped going uphill - they must have reached the top.

Luca opened his eyes to see his head was close to a tree trunk. Trunda pulled his head back a bit, and then hit him off the hard bark of the tree. His vision grew hazy, and everything was spinning. And then Trunda hit him off the tree again. And again. And again. And again. He lost count of how many times Trunda bashed the side of his head off the tree. But when it was finally over, Luca was barely conscious, and a thick red pool of blood ran down the side of the tree.

Trunda said something else - Luca could no longer make out his words. And then he felt the man's hands grabbing the front of his cloak and dragging him somewhere. He felt himself being dropped into running water.

Now he was drifting. It was a kind mercy compared to the head-bashing from before. He opened his eyes - or one of them, as one was too swollen to open - and he looked up at the stars above in the sky.

He drifted for a few seconds more before he went over the edge of the waterfall.

<> <> <>

Trunda stared down at the body before him.

The son of Lodin did not move. The side of his head was split open, his arm was broken, as were at least a few of his ribs. He had just taken a dive over the edge of the waterfall, and spent a few minutes underwater before he had resurfaced.

He should be dead. And yet he was not.

Trunda scratched his beard. The boy had endured all that, and yet his body had not vanished. He was still there, floating by face-down in the river. He could not possibly have been breathing.

Somehow, the boy was not dead.

Trunda had heard the rumours of what had happened at Allma Temple, but he had assumed those to be born of a combination of hero-worship and Dreevius' incredible ineptitude. But the proof was right before him.

Perhaps this was why Zinoro had wanted the boy for himself. Perhaps Zinoro sought to make himself unkillable in the same way Lodin's son was. And perhaps to do that, he needed the boy to be brought before him.

But what need was there for that? Zinoro already had a guarantee. An Absolute Truth, spoken to him by that prophet from Mainyu. Only the firstborn son of Lodin, or a member of his own kin could slay him. And Zinoro had already taken care of one of those two uncertainties, so why would he risk leaving another open?

Well, sometimes even the greatest leaders made mistakes. Trunda would not allow his king to be slain in some sort of prophecy twist. He would make sure the chance died here, with Lodin's son. Even if he could not truly kill the boy, he could ensure that the boy was made to be no threat to Zinoro. It would be messy, but if the boy were separated into many pieces, even the greatest healing magick could not bring him back.