Bacorium Legacy (52 page)

Emila seemed to realise this too, for the slight smile of her nostalgia had faded, replaced with a hesitant frown. Her hands were in her lap.

They sat there for a few moments, not sure what to say or do. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Luca felt like he just couldn't stare at the floor any longer, so he forced himself to look at the girl. Emila was looking away at something in the room. Her eyes were downcast, filled with disappointment and self-loathing. Somehow, he knew what was going through her mind. She was frustrated with herself, and her inability to just come out and say what she was feeling. She was upset that Wiosna had gone and done what she was unable to do.

That Emila could have any degree of doubt in herself was something Luca found very difficult to understand. Was she feeling like she was losing to Wiosna somehow? Because she certainly wasn't. It wasn't Wiosna that haunted his dreams. It wasn't Wiosna whose beauty caught his eye in moments when he was least expecting it. It wasn't Wiosna who he eagerly expected to see every morning. And it certainly wasn't Wiosna who was quite literally the very person keeping him alive.

He didn't want her to think that Wiosna had stolen him from her. He didn't want her to think that she wasn't enough for him. Though he had refused to allow himself to accept what he was feeling since he had met her, he couldn't continue to lie to himself. He had already broken all of his other “rules” - so what was the sense in breaking one more?

But then he remembered - he was going to leave her behind in T'Saw, wasn't he?

He was, and he knew that from everything he had learnt in travelling with his father all those years that the closer he was to Emila when he left, the harder it would be on him. And though he was so tempted to do this one thing with her, he knew it would just make things hurt more later. He had known that pain many times before, by getting close to people and then having to leave them behind.

But somehow, he didn't care about that. For once, his mind was unable to overcome the desires of his heart. He was being weak, and giving in. Because he wanted her to know that she meant more to him than Wiosna. That was more important to him than easing his own burden.

He stood up, catching Emila's attention with the movement. Her mouth opened, as thought she were about to ask him what was wrong, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Her own eyes grew wide with realisation.

He drew close to her, sitting beside her on her bed and facing her. She did not move away, or protest, or ask him what he was about to do. His hand moved up slowly, cupping her cheek and gently holding her. And then he leaned in, his lips coming into contact, ever so slowly, with her own.

It lasted for a few moments, neither could be sure exactly how long, before Luca pulled away.

“It was you. It was always you.”

She broke into a happy smile and threw her arms around him, reciprocating the kiss.

<> <> <>

Trunda sat meditating in his small prison cell, as still and quiet as a statue.

Three guards stood on the other side of the bars, keeping a constant eye on him. They were different guards now than the ones who had come down after Luca left, as the shifts changed every six hours. They were watching him diligently, as was their job. Commendable, really. But futile.

Trunda could feel the mana-blocking circle around him. He could feel it trying to block his mana. How futile. He did not use his mana outwardly as most people did. His mana flow was completely different, which was the first reason he had been chosen to be one of Zinoro's acolytes.

Trunda could feel the warmth of the rising sun's rays hitting his back. It was nearly time.

“Fuckin' creepy,” he heard one of the guards mutter to his companion.

“Yeah,” the other agreed.

“He's just been sittin' there, the whole damn time,” the first guard continued. “Is he even alive?”

“Maybe he's projecting,” the second guard suggested. “Like maybe he's sending his spirit out to Acaria to tell Zinoro what's going on.”

“Then we should stop him,” the first guard. “If he's contactin' his master...”

“I don't think he's really projecting. Nobody's been able to do that in thousands of years. Hey, wait! No, don't do that!”

Trunda felt something poking at his shoulder. The hilt end of the first guard's spear. The fool was poking him with the back of his spear to see if he was still alive.

“He's not doin' anything...”

In one swift movement, Trunda grabbed the spear with both hands, wrenching it free of its owner's hands. The man only had a single second to look shocked with his stupid face, before Trunda thrust the spear back towards him, the pointed end driving deep between a gap in his armour, into the man's stomach and bursting out the other side. The dumb man screamed in pain, dropping to his knees, and spitting a mouthful of blood out onto the stone floor.

The other two guards started to panic, shouting for the captain. Trunda stood up and started to stretch, his body stiff after having sat in one position for eight hours.

The captain was there, along with three other guards, barking orders and questions. The two guards who had been watching Trunda were trying to explain why their companion was skewered. The guard with the spear in him was sobbing and coughing up blood.

Trunda counted up the men in the room. Seven. Perfect. Exactly the number he needed.

The five guards, the wounded one, and the captain all turned to him. They hadn't noticed it yet, but they were growing pale.

“You Acarian bastard,” the captain spat at him. He approached the cell. “You'll pay for this.” He swayed as he took the last step.

“Captain - urgh...”

“What's - happening...?”

“My mana! He's...!”

The guards were collapsing one-by-one, not dead, but so drained of life they might as well have been. Only the captain, by far the strongest of them, remained standing.

“H-how?!” he demanded.

“You thought your mana circle could stop me,” Trunda said, looking down at the carving in the stone floor at his feet. “And it would have, for a normal human. But I am an abnormality. I cannot use magick, but I have no need to. The mana of others flows into me, making me stronger. And these circles do not stop mana that flows inward.”

Trunda grabbed the bars of his cell, pulling them apart from one another. He now had the strength of eight men - the bars bended under his grip like cheap plastic. He was easily able to pull them far enough apart to step through.

The guard captain stared unbelieving at what was happening.

“You freak Acarian bastards - you'll pay for this one day. I swear it - I swear-”

Trunda grabbed him and punched him in the head. The captain's skull burst like a pumpkin dropped from a window. A massive blood stain marred the wall. Trunda dropped the body, which faded into mana a few seconds after hitting the floor.

The remaining guards, who had grown too weak to move, but not weak enough to die, were watching the horror show before them, knowing full-well there was nothing they could do.

Trunda looked over at one. The Acarian's face was caked with the captain's blood, and his eyes were alight with a merciless cruelty. He stomped down on the man's knee, crushing it immediately and splitting the leg in two. The man screamed, trying feeble to crawl away, his fingernails scratching against the stone floor. But there was no escape.

Trunda took his time with them.

<> <> <>

Luca yawned. The morning had come far too early for him. Beside him, Emila look rather tired as well. As did Wiosna. And Brand. And Ash. And Jared.

Selphie seemed rather energetic, though.

“Don't you people ever sleep?” the portly innkeeper asked her. “All night, you were running around town, in and out of here, keeping everyone else up.”

“Sorry,” Selphie apologised, handing back their three room keys.

“Your business is your business, just try to keep it down next time you stay here,” the innkeeper muttered. “It's tough enough managing an inn with crazy folk always bursting in-”

At that moment, the inn's wooden door burst, flying off its hinges like it had been hit by a cannonball. The door flew back several metres, landing on the floor before them and shattering. At the doorway, a man stepped inside the inn. Trunda looked different from usual - his eyes were wide and bloodshot, and his clothes were ripped and torn in several places, particularly his arms, where the muscles were swollen up as though he had just put on twice his mass. He was covered in blood, from his face to his arms.

“Fight me now, you all,” he all but hissed out through his teeth. “Fight me and die!”

He screamed in pure aggression and punched the stone wall beside him, his fist breaking clean through without a scratch. He withdrew his hand, laughing maniacally.

Needless to say, Luca's company had all drawn their weapons.

“How did he escape?!” Selphie demanded.

“Forget that!” Brand shouted. “Did you see what he just did to that wall?!”

Trunda cracked his knuckles and started to advance into the room.

“Stop this!” the innkeeper shouted at everyone. “Don't do this in my inn! Take this outside!”

Trunda swung his arm, throwing a piece of the stone wall he'd been holding at the innkeeper. The small piece of stone struck the innkeeper in the forehead, hitting his skull with enough force to shatter into dozens of pieces. The innkeeper collapsed, blood already running down his face.

Wiosna screamed and charged, oblivious to everyone's shouts of caution.

“Don't worry,” Trunda said with a smile as she drew close. “I'll go easy on you.”

Wiosna swung her sword, which Trunda avoided by jumping back - moving with surprising agility for someone his size. But just as soon he lunged forward, catching Wiosna off-guard. With a single well-placed punch, Wiosna was disarmed. And then Trunda had her by the throat, lifting her off the ground.

Luca and the others were already running to her rescue.

Jared brought down his halberd on Trunda's shoulder, which struck the man's skin and bounced off like it had just hit metal. Brand and Ash's sword were equally ineffective.

Wiosna's eyes found Luca's. There was something in her pained expression - an apology, or perhaps pleading. He couldn't tell.

“Let go of her, you bastard!” Brand shouted to Trunda.

“Fine,” Trunda responded. He threw Wiosna aside, the girl's body soaring through the air like the door from moments ago, and hitting the stone wall on the far side of the inn. She let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and collapsed on the floor. She did not move.

The four of them - Luca, Brand, Selphie, and Jared - surrounded Trunda now, their blades ready. Ash and Emila lingered behind - they were not fighters and would only get in the way. Emila had rushed to Wiosna's side, the warm of healing mana flowing from her. Ash was watching cautiously, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I could crush your bones into powder with my very fists,” Trunda laughed. “And I likely will, once the fight is finished. But for now I will fight you with my own strength, and show you just how weak you truly are - Luca.”

Luca responded by running in and thrusting his sword forth. The blade struck true, piercing Trunda's side. The Acarian groaned in pain through his teeth. Luca tried to pull the sword back out, but Trunda's hands wrapped around the blade, holding it where it was. Luca didn't have enough time to let go and back away before the back of Trunda's hand struck him with enough force to send him flying back.

“Luca!” he heard Emila and a few of the others cry out.

Everything spun. He felt himself hit a table, crashing through the wood and hitting the hard floor. Something inside him hurt badly, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood. For several moments, he just lay there, trying to get his aching body to move again. Nobody came to help him - he wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

Finally, he managed to get back up. Just in time to see Trunda and Brand locked in vicious fighting. Trunda was delivering punch after punch, which Brand was expertly deflecting with his sword. Luca was again reminded of how much better Brand was at swordplay than he was.

The impact of Trunda's fists hitting Brand's sword drew no blood, nor did the attacks of Selphie or Jared at his unguarded back. Only Luca's sword, still sticking out of his side, had done any damage to him. As Luca used the busted-up table to pull himself back to his feet, Trunda managed to slip a punch through, hitting Brand in the gut. Brand dropped his sword and doubled over, groaning, which allowed Trunda to knee him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

Jared's halberd hit Trunda's back once more to no effect, and the behemoth whirled around and brought his fist down in pure rage. Jared managed to jump back, just in time, as Trunda's fist smashed right through the bar behind him.

Things were looking bad - two of their number were down already, and they had done almost nothing to Trunda. Luca realised then that everything Trunda had told him in that prison had not been a bluff - Trunda really could kill them all if he wanted to. That Wiosna and Brand had even survived those punches - which were not even of his full strength - was proof of that.

Luca started back towards the fight. He had to get his sword back.

Jared had lost his halberd in the chaos. He was now matching Trunda with his own fists - which he had used magick to reinforce into solid rock. The two were exchanging blows now in a super powered fistfight. Selphie could do nothing, and she realised it, so she was keeping her distance, and watching the brawl with worry in her eyes.

Jared managed to get a punch through Trunda's guard, hitting him on the side of the face and knocking him aside. Trunda stumbled, spitting out blood. When he rose, he was grinning.

“Not bad,” the Acarian said. “You're certainly putting up a better fight than those guards at the border did.”

Jared's eyes narrowed in anger.

“They screamed and cried and begged for mercy. One even tried to run. I killed them all like the cowards they were.”