Slayers: Knightfall

Chapter 41

"Lina has been acting very strange lately," Amelia commented offhandedly to Zel as they strolled down what once had been Seyruun's main street leading to the palace. Much of the debris had been cleared a month before, and now reconstruction was in full swing with the constant clinking of metal on marble, the creaking of rope-driven pulleys and the barking of stern build-masters.

Amelia doubted the city would look and feel anything like her ruined home, but she had seen the blueprints from the contractors Phil had hired out to redesign the city. It certainly looked impressive with its layers of hexagrams and other runes of protection cleverly built into the very layout of the city. But nothing could replace the lost paintings, sculptures, and the quirky specialty stores she had loved to peruse.

"When has Lina ever acted normal?" Zel replied, eyeing with an arched eyebrow the odd-looking sculpture commissioned by Phil for the new central fountain.

He had a point, as usual. But the way he so casually dismissed her comment bothered the princess. Sure, Lina was strange, and usually she thought nothing of it, but her weirdness had seemed to take on a whole new level of . . .weird, just after Sylphiel's death.

/wavy flashback effect/

The clanking clatter of hundreds of coins echoed through the cavern underneath the former capital of Seyruun, quickly followed by the sounds of feet shuffling, voices ringing with monetarily induced joy, an occasional yippee and superficial smatterings of gratitude.

"Hohohoho! That's right, folks! Auntie Moneybags is helping rebuild the kingdom by instituting her own stimulus plan! The only stipulation is that you must SPEND SPEND SPEND! Spend it on food, clothing, homes, whatever you need, whatever you want! It's all for the restoration of the Holy Kingdom of Seyruun!"

"Hey, Lina, are you sure about all this?" Gourry asked, attempting to figure out Lina's complete 180 when it came to money.

"Don't be so stingy, Gourry dear," Lina cooed. "This is our new home, and no child of mine is going to live in a decapitated pile of rubble!" She looked back to the gathering crowd and flashed the most winning (and possibly most fake) smile of her entire smiling repertoire. "So spend spend SPEND!"

/wavy return to reality/

Lina's sudden philanthropic turn would've been a wonderful thing if not for the fact that it felt so very odd.

Not that she seemed insincere. In fact, quite the opposite; she seemed all too sincere about everything nice she did. And that wasn't like Lina at all. Lina up until a month ago had been greedy, stingy, gluttonous, vindictive, and unsympathetic to those less fortunate than she.

Something was up. And Amelia was kicking herself for not realizing that sooner, despite the fact that most of her attention had been devoted to the reconstruction of her beloved homeland and the rehabilitation of her sister, so she'd hardly had any time to devote to her friends.

"I suppose we'll find up what's she's up to eventually, but by then far too late." Amelia sighed.

"Not like there's much here she can destroy . . . ," Zel mumbled, to which Amelia shot him a hurt look.

"Sorry," Zel said, cringing. "What I mean is, what's the point of worrying about what Lina is going to do? As far as I can tell she is aiding in the kingdom's recovery in ways not even your father could do. Whatever it is she's planning, I'm sure it won't end with the world's destruction.

"Besides," Zel said distantly, gazing at a caravan rolling past on the endless highway to the east. "We have other things to worry about."

A sudden breeze caused Amelia to shiver as an even colder glint flashed in the chimera's eyes.

Gold, glittering in the flickering candlelight, flew into the air once again.

And once again, I felt as though a little piece of me had died inside.

I wasn't flicking my gold away lightly. Oh no, never lightly. I was merely making an investment as it were. Getting involved in the local community. Such as it was.

Straining to think in the long-term, I beamed at the next group of . . . commodities. Yes. That's what I'll call them. They'll increase in value over time.

I gazed at the onslaught of people, all prostrating themselves before me, collecting from my largesse with hardly a word of gratitude, as though I were some sort of half-forgotten goddess.

"To think that I've only been doing this for a month and I still have so much more to give!" I theatrically intoned.

Gourry eyed me uneasily. He'd never once seen me toss coin aside as if it were so much trash. And he had once suffered greatly at my hands when he dared to defile a single gold piece. But despite my façade of generosity, he somehow could tell that the process was eating me up inside.

"I get the whole rebuilding the economy thing, I get the whole not raising our kid in a pile of rubble-but isn't there a way to do all this that is easier on your ulcers?"

"Coming events require monumental sacrifices" was my simple, firm, reply. To which my ulcer added his own gurgling addendum.

"Sacrifices? As far as I can tell, you've barely given away the merest scrap of the pile you have hidden outside of town. And what do you mean, 'coming events'?"

"That merest scrap is going to pay off in the future. EVEN IF IT KILLS ME."

"Okay, okay." Gourry held up his hands in a placating gesture, ignoring the fact that I had completely ignored his second question. What a sweetie. "But would you at least tell me what it is you're planning?"

"Well, if you must know . . . no."

Gourry's mock-pleading stare was too much for me to bear. How does a twenty-something warrior pull off the puppy-dog eyes so well!

"FFFFF-fine," I relented, figuring it was probably better to come clean anyway. "Come on, before I change my mind." I grabbed Gourry's hand and led him up and out of the tunnels into the fresh air under an indigo evening sky. There I grabbed his head by the ears and directed his gaze to a distant forest. Gourry's sensitive ears picked up the muffled pounding of nails on wood, no small feat considering how much pounding on marble and steel still was going on not far behind us.

"You're . . . building something?" Gourry guessed.

"Good job! You can't be forever in a WiddenDream like Naga!" I playfully smacked Gourry upside the head.

A few moments passed in companionable silence before Gourry asked, "Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"No."

I groaned at the husband's sigh. "Listen, the reason I can't say anything right now is because I dunno how everyone is going to take it." Actually, I had a pretty darn good idea, but I wasn't about to get them involved again.

"So it's something bad?" Gourry asked skeptically.

"Of course not! In fact it's the very things I've been paying for over the past month!"

"Then why throw money out onto the streets?"

"That's just a cover!" My cheeks had to be glowing almost as red as the setting sun. "If I keep the attention on me, and in the city, then no one will be any the wiser."

"I guess that's true. But I wish you'd stop keeping secrets from me."

"Urk-!" That shut me up. I shifted my eyes about nervously, like the clearly guilty tool I was. How did that man always manage to find new ways to make me feel bad? It was like he wanted me to think about other people's feelings! But . . . that was what I more or less promised a month ago . . . but that was besides the point!

Wasn't it?

Fidgeting around for a bit, I finally found the courage to look him in the eye. "But . . . it'll ruin the surprise!"

"Lina . . . ."

"This is the last one. The last one, Gourry. If I ever keep anything from you ever again you can be rest assured that you'll get first pick on anything whenever we eat out."

Gourry smiled, head lowered in gratitude, satisfied at that, and leaned back on the dry, brittle grass. We always ate out. And I would never give up my unspoken right to "first taste" lightly. He'd better be grateful.

"You'll catch a cold. I'm not spoon-feeding you chicken soup if you get sick." I chided.

"Have you ever gotten that feeling? The feeling that suddenly the weight of the world has been lifted from your shoulders? That's what I'm feeling right now."

Where can I get some of that? I thought, and despite my chastisement, joined my husband on the cold ground.

It was cold.

"How do you stand this?"

"Manly determination with a dash of showoffyness."

"Ass."

"If it's so bad then sit on me-OOF!"

"Offer accepted!" I settled in. "Hmmm . . . not the most comfy of couches. But I guess he'll do."

I gazed at the sky, watching in newfound awe as the first star of the evening flickered into being. I didn't know if it was just the clear winter sky, or my perfect senses, but the star seemed like crystal, perfect and pure in the darkening ether.

"Say, Gourry?"

"Yes, Lina?"

"What do you think we should name the little twerp?"

"Hmm . . .." Smoke started pouring from Gourry's ears.

"Yeah, toughest decision we've had to make in a while . . . at least until we have to pick what we are having for dinner."

Suddenly Gourry jerked, nearly toppling me off my seat.

"H-hey, what the hell?" I sputtered in protest. Who the hell tries to knock a pregnant lady off her seat?

"The chair senses danger."

"What?"

"Off, please."

I complied, and Gourry shot up off the ground, spun to face the south, eyes focused on the distant horizon. I squinted and could almost make out the dusty haze left behind by a host of trampling feet.

"Enemies?"

"Maybe. Something doesn't feel right."

"Well let's go make it feel better." I devilishly smirked.

Gourry couldn't help but grin. I think he could tell that the old Lina was coming back to him.

"Oooohohohoho!" Gracia Ul Naga Seyruun laughed. "You call that a portrait?"

"I-I'm sorry, my lady."

The chamber that the artist was using as his studio was a mess of half-empty paint jugs, scattered brushes of various sizes, makes and states of repair, maybe a dozen unfinished paintings and hundreds of scattered sketches, most rejected but retained for future reference and inspiration.

Lamps, mostly magical, lit the chamber in a bright, airy glow, perfect for bringing out all the natural beauty the artist was striving to reproduce on canvas, and with no chance of smoke from the usual torches and candles damaging his works. It was a perfect place for a master to work his craft.

But sometimes the customers just didn't understand the process.

"One: The bosom is nowhere near accentuated enough. Two: I am not wearing a frilly dress-I am wearing my mother's illecebrous battle-bikini! Three: I specifically asked to be portrayed riding a white horse whilst chugging down a pint of brandy with my favorite tankard, Chuggsies." She waved her hands in disgust at the painting. "You've not even come close to capturing my allure."

"But the king, your father-!"

"I know who daddy is."

"Y-your father personally requested me as your portrait artist because I alone have the skills to bring out your inner beauty on canvas! And here you are trying to paint the picture for me!"

"From what I've seen, maybe I should! On top of being beautiful and the most powerful sorceress the land has ever seen, I am also an artist whose talent is without compare! To think that all daddy had to do to save some money was ask his daughter to paint her own portrait. It's no wonder this kingdom has fallen to ruin! Ooooohohohohoho!"

"That's not what-! Oh, I give up!" The artist threw his palette and brush into the air and slapped to the floor the painting at which he'd toiled for more than a week. He stormed out of his studio, brusquely pushing back King Philionel as he was making his entrance.

He stopped and paled when he saw whom he had so rudely barged past. "My humblest apologies, your Majesty! I was . . . I was just going out to get some fresh air before going back to work to the finish on your l-lovely daughter's portrait."

"Of course, of course, young master, no need to apologize. Be on your way then," the king said kindly.

The artist left, in a hurry, and Phil added to his lengthening series of sighs.

He glared at his prodigal daughter, but the glare quickly melted away. How could he possibly be angry with her after she'd finally come back to him after all those years?

"Chased off yet another portraitist, I see?"

"This one was even worse than the last, Daddy! He didn't even consider my brilliant advice."

"Hmmm . . . though perhaps, you can be a little more accepting?"

"Daddy! When people see my portrait, I want them to think, "My! Isn't that an interesting person!" Otherwise, it'd look just like all the rest of the boring paintings that used to hang in the National Gallery. We have a clean slate; why not make use of it?"

Phil cringed at her analogy, considering how flat and barren the city grounds were at present. Yet another thing of which his daughter needed to be cured- the complete and utter disassociation from her kingdom. That on top of her arrogance, alcoholism, skimpy dressing habits, and that accursed laugh.

But he really couldn't come up with a convincing argument to counter his daughter's. All he could say was, "Huh."

"The general dourness and lack of energy in this place are really starting to annoy me. What my subjects need is something to remind them that life isn't all about slapping mud on brick or sitting around in a damp cave feeling sorry for themselves."

Well, maybe the King had judged her too soon; maybe she did think of her people. He wasn't about to take back the rest of his assessment just yet, though.

"What do you have in mind?"

"We need a party. A ball, a gala, an ice-cream social, something! Everyone is so boring and bogged down by work that I am having trouble believing that they really are my people."

Phil just stared in disbelief-that she could be so callous to the feelings of her subjects who had had their very lives upended. Their homes destroyed, kin killed, livelihoods demolished. It was as if she had completely forgotten what had happened to their own family.

She had run away because of what happened!

Then it hit Phil in the face-like one of his other daughter, Amelia's punches during their many hand-to-hand combat sessions.

Gracia was simply expecting people to deal with their grief like she would. By running away from it.

"Let's see . . . what can we do with the resources at hand?" Gracia grinned, wearing an expression that seemed to suggest she was already at the party she intended to throw. "I know! Daddy, in the middle of the residential area of Zephyr City is an inn with a basement full of cream liquor! Have somebody bring it down. Food? There have got to be some wayward inns and lodges still standing on the outskirts, and I'm sure they're hurting for customers. But we'll need some entertainment as well . . . Amelia's boy-toy is an exceptional guitar player, I suppose he has to be if he wants to play at royalty, and Lina is a decent singer I guess, though she is in the peculiar habit of blowing me up every time I get within fifty yards of her. Now, how to coerce . . . "

Phil zoned out at his daughter's nonsensical rambling/planning session. He was beginning to have serious doubts whether Gracia would ever be fit to become queen. Amelia could do it, with great skill and with a just heart. But she was still very much a wanderer, traveling with Zelgadis in a never-ending quest to find a way to bring him back to human form.

Yes, Amelia would make a fine queen, one day, but Gracia . . . he had to find a way to make Gracia at least a worthy looking successor.

KRAKOOM!

Jars fell and smashed on the ground, paintings tipped over, bits of the ceiling crumbled and Gracia was knocked down, face first.

"W-What in blazes!" Phil was staggered by the . . . explosion? That had to have been what it was. But from what source?

"That Inverse girl must be Dragon Slaving the scenery again," an annoyed passerby grumbled from outside the studio.

"Oh! A shooting star!" Amelia pointed at the streaking celestial object.

Zel offered a half-hearted sound of appreciation before something in the back of his mind started screaming. "Shooting star? Ha! That's one o' deem fiery balls o' pitch they use to burn and blow stuff up real good!"

Needless to say, Zel wasn't pleased and groaned in a fashion that denoted such.

"Barriers!" he shouted, and put his words into action by enacting a Flare Shield.

Amelia was slower on the uptake but managed to bring up a Windy Shield to deflect the physical aspect of the projectile.

The ball of pitch shattered, its flames destroyed by Zel's spell, and the pair was left to ponder what in the world they were going to do with the dozens more shooting stars leaping over the horizon.

"Oh, are you kidding me!" I screeched in disbelief as I hauled Gourry toward the mass of soldiers, siege engines, and what appeared to be animal-shaped golems of some kind marching at the fore.

Golems that were launching balls of flaming pitch from various orifices, their target obvious.

"A whole army? Who? Why?" Gourry's stunned cry matched my own.

"Beats the hell out of me, so let's beat it outta them! Burst Flare!" My explosive fire spell met one of the golems and surrounding troops with expected results. Except for the part where the golem came through unscathed. I hate it when they do that.

"Tough guy, eh?" I sat down on a hill overlooking the scrambling soldiers. "Darkness beyond Twilight . . . Crimson beyond Blood that Flo-! Hey!" My spell was suddenly interrupted by Gourry's almost light tap to my head. "What's the big idea, Gourry? I can wipe them all out with one blow!"

"I'm sure you could, but wouldn't it be better to leave a few of them alive for questioning?"

"Pfft. Fine." He had a point. If it was a country or even an alliance of them attacking then there would be no shortage of battles ahead. So instead I began a less enthusiastic and less powerful spell, aiming for the center line of army, which was now on the march again.

"Freeze Bullet!" The spell flew towards the front center of the formation, flash-freezing everything within 30 meters and debilitating everything else within 60.

"There are your prisoners. Now let's show the rest of these tools why it's a bad idea to attack the Gabriev-Inverse Clan's home."

Gourry could only nod in agreement.

"Oh! Somebody brought fireworks for my party!" Naga gasped in appreciation as a freeze bullet spell met yet another flaming missile, the battle of the two extreme elements ending with a spectacular explosion well above the city. Not that she immediately figured it for what it was.

"Those lights aren't for partying, my dear," Phil said gravely, weariness dragging his voice. "Seyruun is at war once more."

Naga was taken aback at that. Her eyes went wide with fear and confusion before she finally asked, "Is it because I didn't invite them?"

"Freeze Arrow!" Amelia cried, extinguishing several more flaming projectiles before they could add to the damage the city already had suffered.

"Who do you think could possibly be doing this?" she asked Zel when the bombardment took a curious pause.

"Seyruun certainly has her share of enemies, but which lands could still have a standing army? Much less one able to mount an invasion?"

That was a good question. But there were ways to guess with seemingly unrelated information. Amelia racked her brain, trying to figure out the nationalities of the many refugees who now called Seyruun home. Elemekia, Zephillia, Lyzelle, Kalmaart, Dils, Raleague. . . people from almost every land except those countries that form the Alliance of Coastal States. And when you're talking about the Coastal States you may as well be only talking about . . .

"Ravunagarde. It can only be Ravunagarde." Amelia almost spat the name.

"Figures," Zel muttered.

"Didn't they feel the brunt of the demon's attack?" She looked shocked, angry, indignant, and strangely enough, all the more beautiful for it in Zel's eyes.

"Maybe being militaristic and paranoid has its advantages after all."

"I refuse to believe that!" A world-weary but still commanding voice boomed. "All of us would've perished had I permitted this land to become an arms-racing, jingoistic, expansionistic empire. The continent would've been engulfed in never-ending war."

"Ravunagarde, Daddy," Amelia stated flatly.

"I should've guessed as much. Only they would seize at an opportunity like this."

"I assume you have a plan? We don't have the numbers to repel a full-scale invasion," Zel said, his voice a mixture of hope and skepticism.

"Plan? Who needs a plan when you have Lina Inverse at your disposal?" Phil gestured to the horizon. No balls of pitch arced through the sky now, but but flashes of magical light and the distant glow of fire told that the battle has been taken to the enemy.

"I sometimes forget how shrewd you really are, Sire," Zel said, saluting Phil with an approving grin.

"What do you mean?" Amelia frowned. Lina wasn't one to take kindly to being used; the last time she'd been forced into situations against her will, terrible things had happened.

"Lina is a force of nature, something you'd be foolish to try to tame," Zel explained. "But sometimes even nature takes a shine to a particular place-like the Jade Isles off the coast of Zephillia, a place that is always green and never feels the bite of winter's cold wind."

"Lina has taken a shine to our kingdom, Amelia," Phil said, nodding in agreement. "She would never let anyone take away her home again."

A particularly bright flash crested the horizon, followed a moment later by the sound of explosive thunder.

"And woe to any who try." Amelia didn't need any more convincing.

"Well," I stretched, thoroughly satisfied with myself. "If anyone survives, speak now and I'll consider not Dragon Slaving your remains!"

"She's serious, you guys!" Gourry intoned in a singsong kind of way.

A golem lurched its way toward us. Shaped like a cow, its mechanical udder swiveled in search of targets. Yes, it was rather silly looking-and tougher than its appearance would warrant.

"Hi, Mr. Golem-driver-man!" I waved it over.

"Hmm, have a plan?" hummed Gourry, apparently not at all worried at my magic's seeming ineffectiveness.

I waited until the golem was closer.

"Well," I said loud enough for whoever was in that thing to hear. "I figure that thing is lined to the bolt with orihalcon, making any direct magical attack useless."

"Oh? Well if it isn't a little sorceress and warrior!" the beast boomed, its voice having an echoey and buzzy quality.

"Oh, it talks! I guess there really is somebody in there! So, do you wanna tell me what this is all about so I'll let you hightail it outta here or do we wanna do this the fun way?"

The cow responded with a blast from its udder-a blast Gourry took care of, absorbing the energy with his sword, which contributed to its already supernatural sharpness. Gourry demonstrated this by slicing through each of the four mechanical nipples, each one 15 feet or more in diameter, like it was warm, melty, butter.

Not content to let Gourry claim the kill, I enacted a Dug Haut spell, impaling the golem with several stone pillars.

"What! I thought the Mage Tank's armor was perfect!"

"Perfect against pure magical energy, maybe," I gloated. "But against physical objects augmented by magic? No way. Why is it nobody ever thinks that one through?"

Quickly, Gourry and I took care of the other "Mage Tanks" down the battle line, incapacitating many more soldiers as well.

Finally, there was one last tank, an ostrich-resembling thing with its head stuck in a hole in the ground.

"Well, at least you're displaying the true spirit of an ostrich," I commended it.

"Oh?" The ostrich buzzed and then lifted its 50-foot neck to stare down at us. I can't say that I was intimidated.

"The fighting's over?" it continued. "I suppose then, there is no point in pretense." With that, the ostrich crouched low to the ground. Once the dust had settled, a hatch opened-precisely where you would expect a hatch to open on an animal-and out came a man.

"You!" I spat.

Notes:

Hey! Long time no see! This chapter went through about 15 rewrites. Still not satisfied with it but what ev.