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roxannarambles · 7 years ago

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Acquired Taste - Ch7

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Title: Acquired Taste

Author: Roxanna Rambles

Summary: When Heath defected from Bern’s wyvern knights and joined Eliwood’s group, he was very keen on keeping to himself, and for the most part, that was easy to do. However, a particular ex-assassin insisted on hounding him. It was extremely annoying. Heath hated it. And there was no way that was going to change. Nope.

Prev. Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Next Chapters: Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter11 Chapter 12 Epilogue

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The desert heat was absolutely oppressive. It was almost like a physical entity was pressing against Heath from all sides. It blotted out his senses and slowed his thinking to a dull crawl, which matched his pace of progress through the landscape. All around him, the sands rose in dunes and flowed like shifting seas, blurry and endless, swallowed up by the horizon with little indication of true distances. Sounds were deadened by the dunes in an almost unnatural manner, and the only noteworthy objects in the sandy void beyond an occasional stumpy cactus was the sight of Eliwood's group, traveling in a scattered caravan. They had been walking for many hours, although Heath was not sure exactly how many; in fact, he was uncertain how many days they had been traveling now as well. It had been difficult to sleep in the desert heat, so the days had started to blur together as seamlessly as the sands. Between the sleep deprivation and the relentless march, Heath felt as though he were wandering in a trance. The whole world felt dreamy and surreal.

His trance did not seem to break even when they finally paused in their grim journey to eat and rest. The sun was angled much lower in the sky, but the heat was still just as suffocating and relentless. The bedraggled group had no intention of breaking camp here, but they hastily assembled a few tents to provide precious shade for the short break. Heath dragged his feet through the dusty tent and the crowd of tired, dirty people and then dropped onto an overturned crate to sit. It was almost dizzying to stop moving, as he'd grown so accustomed to the sight of the sand passing by as they walked. For a moment, he closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he reached for his canteen and took a long drink. A thought floated through his mind that he'd gone soft. He had grown so accustomed to riding on the back of his wyvern on long journeys. He could have done the same now, of course, but there would have been little point. He would have outpaced the rest of the group several times over and would need to waste Hyperion's energy flying in place for much the time. Better to expend his own energy than waste hers. He had to admit, though, that the Nabata had completely taken him by surprise. He had no idea that the journey on foot would be this arduous.

In truth, he was exhausted to his core. The desert had a way of slowly sapping your strength, bit by bit. It was hardly even perceptible at first, but over time, the effects added up to a crushing weight. Heath's limbs felt heavy, his body beaten down, and there was very little will left within him to continue moving. He stared listlessly across the tent at nothing in particular, glassy-eyed and disengaged with the world. Very little passed through his mind, other than a vague curiosity over how many more hours they had ahead of them to march.

Then, a familiar sound caught Heath's ear, breaking him from his trance. He felt a small jolt within him, a tiny flicker stirring in his chest despite the complete and utter depletion of all his energy. Turning to look to his right, he spotted the source of the sound. Legault was close by, leaning against one the tent posts and talking to a Caelin knight. The orange-haired knight seemed to mildly tolerate whatever was being said, but eventually moved on, leaving Legault to his own devices. The desire to move flushed back into Heath, blood flowing again to his limbs.

It was preposterous, but hearing Legault felt freakishly similar to catching the sweet caress of a cooling breeze in the suffocating heat; somehow reinvigorating, even in all its subtlety. Heath had no idea why it affected him that way, but he was too weary to fight the temptation today. He was compelled to move, inevitably pulled in by the craving to be in his presence.

"You're looking far too spry for a lackluster thief in the middle of the desert."

Legault turned, then rewarded him with a grin of pure pleasure.

"Maybe if you silly knights didn't insist on lugging hot metal armor around, you could keep up."

Heath crossed his arms.

"I don't buy it. You've been hitching a ride on one of the supply wagons or something, haven't you?"

"Oh, come now. You don't really think I would stoop to that, do you?"

Heath narrowed his eyes and stared at him. Legault's mouth twitched in a brief hint of smirk. Heath exclaimed,

"You knave! You absolutely did exactly that."

Legault replied coyly,

"Maybe for short portions of the journey."

Heath shook his head at him. The thief returned,

"My point still stands on your armor. I can't believe you're still wearing it."

Heath shot back at him airily,

"Why are you always trying to get me out of my armor?"

The words hadn't even left his mouth before he realized how Legault would react. His lavender brows arched up and Heath quickly added,

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't need to. I know how your mind works."

Legault chuckled as if he took great delight in the comment.

"Oh, I don't think that you do. Not the dirty details."

"You can keep those to yourself."

"Your loss. Have you eaten yet?"

Heath shook his head, muttering,

"Not really. The heat doesn't do wonders for my appetite. And the rations taste like dust."

Legault shot a furtive glance around, then leaned in a little.

"If it interests you, I might have something a little finer then sandy rations."

Heath was definitely intrigued.

"Keep talking."

"Just something I picked up in Ostia. Was about to finish it off myself."

He pulled some wrapped paper parcels from his satchel and chirped,

"Bulgaran pie?"

"Legault, there's something wrong with you."

"I know. You want one?"

Heath frowned.

"I . . . yeah, all right."

He accepted one of the packages and sat down backwards in an empty chair, unwrapping it. Still leaning against the tent post, Legault spoke to him through bites of cold pie.

"So how much longer do you figure we'll be wandering this wasteland?"

Heath bit into his own pie and answered flippantly,

"Until we catch our death, it seems."

Legault chuckled.

"So little faith in our fearless leaders."

Heath looked around before saying in a quieter voice,

"Only because we have no idea what we're searching for. We're not even traveling in a consistent direction."

"What, finding a legendary somethingrather isn't specific enough for you?"

Heath snorted. Legault carried on,

"All right, so it's a bit vague. But you need to learn to enjoy the journey, Heath. Don't worry so much about the destination."

The wyvern knight gave him an incredulous look.

"Are you actually serious?"

Legault cracked a smile.

"No. Personally, I think there's a good chance we'll all be bleached bones before long."

"Hmph. Comforting thought. I thought you were supposed to be the optimist."

"The cautious optimist. I'm also realistic."

The knight grunted, biting into more pie as Legault continued,

"That said, there's equal odds we'll waltz out of here perfectly fine. You never know. I gave up predicting fate long ago."

"I suppose," Heath said through a muffled bite. He cast an idle gaze around the ragged group.

"I hope we waltz soon. I feel as though the sand's gotten inside my skull. It's a wonder I can still carry on a conversation at this point."

Legault smiled.

"I'll try not to tax your brain too terribly. I'll just-- goodness, Heath. You're eating that like a starving wolf. Are you sure you hate these pies?"

Heath glanced up, swallowing another bite and looking self-conscious.

"I'm not . . . I don't know. They sort of grow on you, I guess."

The thief looked victorious.

"I told you they would."

"It's either that or it's just further proof I've gone mad from this place."

"In that case, I think I like you a little mad."

Heath huffed a laugh.

"I'm not so sure I care for it."

"Mm. At least we'll break camp in a few more hours. Should be nice to cool our heels for a bit."

Heath crumpled his empty pie wrapper and tossed it aside.

"Not really looking forward to that either, to be honest."

"Why not?"

The knight leaned into one hand.

"Haven't been sleeping. It's incredibly dull sweltering in my tent, waiting for daybreak."

Legault finished up his meat pie as well and neatly folded and tucked away the wrapper. Then he drawled,

"Well, if you're bored, you could always drop by for some entertainment."

Heath gave him a look laden with suspicion. Legault returned,

"What? I'm serious. We always have fun, don't we? I mean, ah, last time was rather lively . . ."

The wyvern knight felt his heart quicken as Legault trailed off. The thief had hit upon something that, in truth, had been rolling about in the back of Heath's brain the entire time they'd been marching in the desert sun. Heath was reluctant to admit his fascination, but entirely against those wishes, he blurted out,

"I confess that has still been on my mind."

Legault raised his brows just slightly. Like a bowstring being drawn taunt, he uttered a curious:

"Oh?"

Heath continued to babble.

"I found it striking. I have sparred many times with many foes, but nothing before has ever been quite so . . . raw."

Legault shifted on his feet. It seemed his smooth composure had been ruffled.

"Yes, it, ah. Well. I don't usually go all out like that."

The little electric thrill returned to Heath's chest, and he grinned.

"Maybe you should a little more often."

Legault exhaled, glancing away a moment and licking his lips, before looking back and saying,

"You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?"

Heath laughed freely.

An argument from a few people walking by made Legault glance up. After a moment, Heath realized it was Eliwood and Hector.

"That's still going to take us a good half day, bare minimum. That area is huge!"

"It isn't that big. Hector, if we can find that ring, it could make an enormous difference. Ninian says it's blessed by Filla and can enhance a fighter's strength."

"Yeah, but how do we even know there's anything there at all? We're going on the word of a strange little girl living in a house in the middle of the desert."

"We don't know, but it's worth checking out, don't you think?"

Hector gave an exasperated sigh as Heath and Legault exchanged glances.

"Normally, yes, I would agree. But we just can't spare the extra time right now. You know our supplies are dwindling."

"All I'm suggesting is a few hours. It isn't far from here."

"A few hours?! Eliwood, you're nuts. You can't search an area like that in a few hours. This place is just one sand dune after the next. Assuming it isn't buried, nobody could spot a little ring in this mess."

"I'm just--"

"I could," Legault cut in casually. The two lords stopped arguing and looked at him. Eliwood stepped closer and said,

"Legault. Do you really think you could?"

The thief shrugged.

"I've got sharp eyes. If it's out there, I'm sure I'd spot it."

Eliwood turned to Hector keenly.

"We can let him try, at least. It's not as though the rest of us couldn't use a little extra rest. What do you say, Hector?"

The lord seemed mildly annoyed, but he thrust a small piece of parchment at Legault.

"Fine. Knock yourself out. Just be sure to be back here in two hours. We'll leave with or without you."

As Hector left, Eliwood added,

"Thanks, Legault. Don't mind Hector. We wouldn't really leave without you."

Legault gave a nonchalant little salute, and Eliwood moved to catch up with Hector. Heath looked over Legault's shoulder at the parchment he was examining. It was an incredibly crude map of the region, with a circled area near what seemed to be some large animal bones. Legault tilted his head to look to Heath.

"Fancy going on a little treasure hunt?"

The air felt thick with the heat, and pushing through it almost felt as if forcing through a dense bog. Heath concentrated on plunging one foot in front of the other, sloshing in the loose sand, moving forward almost mechanically. The two of them methodically tackled the search area, but it rapidly became apparent this would not be a quick foray. After about twenty minutes they had only covered a small fraction of ground. This was already at a pace that seemed to Heath to be far too quick to properly search for a small ring. Legault would only give sweeping glances about the ground and carry on with a spritely step. Heath had asked him several times if he really thought that it was adequate, but the thief had insisted it was. Rather than question him further, Heath just accepted it and resolved himself to keeping his own eye out as best he could.

As time pressed on and the vision of endless sands blurred before Heath's eyes, his determination to search slowly drained away. He began to focus more on the task of simply keeping up after Legault, which started to feel like enough of a duty in itself. Although the sun was not at its height, the time of day was at its worst for the built-up heat, rising up from the ground as a solid column of dragon's breath. Even Legault's effervescent energy began to flag. Gradually, his steps were also reduced to a slow trudge through the sands. The heat had worked its wicked way like a slow poison, enfeebling and stupefying. Heath's head felt as if it were swimming.

"Why are we out here," Heath said to his companion, struck by the absurdity of it all.

"Hmm?"

Heath gave a very dry laugh.

"Why am I not back at the tent? This, it's stupid. Eliwood's mad. You're mad for humoring him. I'm-- I'm especially mad for following you. Why did I agree to this?"

Legault gave a weary shrug.

"Because I'm utterly charming and you can't say no to me?"

Heath wrinkled his brow.

"Maybe. No. Legault. Just-- answer me seriously, please."

The thief laughed a little.

"All right, seriously. You said you wanted to make sure I didn't turn to bleached bones out here on my own, remember?"

"Right. Yes. I remember."

Heath pondered this a moment, his thoughts muddied and slowed.

"I should have considered it more carefully. I should just leave."

"What? And leave me out here to die? All alone?"

"Yes."

"You haven't a cold and callous bone in your body, Heath, you're not fooling me."

"My stupid sentimental bones shall keep yours company out here, if we don't leave."

"Oh, you're just being dramatic. Treasure! Adventure! Thrills! We can have it all out here."

Heath looked at the insane man, who had bounced enthusiastically to punctuate his points.

"I think you're ill."

Legault seemed to regret exerting himself. His forward progress through the sand slowed a little. After a few moments, he said,

"That's a distinct possibility. To tell you the truth . . ."

Heath followed behind Legault's labored steps and waited for him to complete his thought.

". . .I'm flippin' melting. It's hot out here."

"Yeah, no kidding."

They were cresting a fairly large dune, and Legault panted,

"I'm . . . I think I'm just going to dump my canteen on myself."

Heath exhaled what was supposed to be a laugh.

"That isn't a good idea."

"I don't care."

Legault stopped walking as they reached the top of the dune. Heath saw him reach for his canteen.

"Legault--"

He twisted the cap off, then tilted his head back, closing his eyes, pitching the canteen over his head and neck. The water chugged out at a moderate pace and cascaded down over his body, pouring off his head, streaming down his neck, spreading out across his chest-- then gliding over his belly, finally pooling at his groin and winding down his legs in rivulets. He emptied the canteen completely in foolish abandon, a sigh of pleasure escaping his lips as the last of the water snaked over him.

Heath stared, dumbfounded. The man was completely soaked, his clothing clinging to him like a second skin, his hair draping over him in wet purple strands. Legault gave his head a little shake and looked at Heath with an expression of serenity. Heath found his eyes helplessly drawn back down again to his drenched figure, apparently unable to stop staring. Legault seemed to notice.

"What? Good look for me?"

Heath snapped his eyes back up and stammered,

"I can't believe you just did that."

"It felt pretty fantastic."

"We're in the middle of a cursed wasteland and you've wasted your only drinking supply!"

"I didn't say it was smart, I just said it felt good."

Heath made a shrill exasperated noise, then spluttered,

"You can't just-- we're going to-- we should just head back while we still can!"

"No, wait. Give me a little more time. Look, we can see the big ribcage from here. Let's search near there at least."

"You really do have a death wish, don't you?"

Legault drew closer, appealing to him,

"Come on, it isn't that bad. We're still not that far from camp. It should take us only ten minutes to reach the spot and give it a quick scan."

Heath huffed in frustration. There was something maddening about the dripping moron in front of him. Heath was not sure if it was simple jealousy over the man's relative comfort, but it didn't seem to be. It felt more like his mind was slipping into a delirious state; looking at Legault, he could not shake the bizarre notion that he seemed to be the embodiment of a delicious oasis, inexplicably tempting. Heath shook himself, trying to jostle some sense back into his skull. It would do them no good if he descended into heat madness now.

"All right, I-- fine. But that's it. After the ribcage, we head back immediately."

"Aye, commander."

Legault spun about, water flecking off him at the motion, then started with a renewed enthusiasm down the sand dune. Heath followed behind, listening to the little squelch-squelch of Legault's damp boots and trying to ignore the wet cape lofting in his face.

The sprawling ribcage they were approaching seemed to grow in size the closer they drew. Every time Heath felt certain he had grasped the scope of it, they would continue walking and it only seemed to loom larger. Finally, they reached the skeleton's base, gazing upon the rows of massive, curved pillars jutting from the sand. It almost felt like standing beside a manmade structure, like the St. Elimine Church in Bern's largest city. The pair took a moment to simply gaze at it, following its path upward into the angry desert sky. When Heath spoke, it came out unintentionally in a hush, as if he should have some sort of reverence.

"It must have been a dragon. I know of no other creature that size."

Legault murmured,

"That would be my guess as well."

He looked across the landscape and frowned, adding a little, "Hmm."

Heath glanced at him.

"What is it?"

The thief shook his head.

"Oh, it's nothing. I'm just starting to wish some moron didn't waste my entire canteen of water. Bit thirsty now."

Heath sighed.

"I did try to warn you."

"Yes, I'm not very good at listening."

As they walked toward the rows of bones, Heath pulled his canteen from his belt. He hesitated a moment, then waved it cautiously at Legault.

"If you promise not to waste this one . . ."

Legault turned, then grinned at him.

"Are you sure?"

"You'd better take it before I change my mind."

The man accepted the canteen. He then paused, giving him a cheeky look. Heath spoke sternly.

"Legault."

The thief chuckled and took a drink, then handed the canteen back. Heath took a long drink and reattached the canteen to his belt. By the time he looked up, Legault was already wandering onward, carefully scanning along the bases of the bones. Heath was not particularly eager to expend further energy, and instead opted to watch Legault searching about.

"Do you really think we're going to find anything out here?"

Legault scuffed at the sand a little with his boot, and touched one of the rib bones curiously.

"I think it's possible. I've heard stories of the Nabata Desert. There are supposedly a lot of mysteries lost to the sands of time here."

He knocked upon the rib in front of him.

"This lively fellow seems to confirm that idea."

"Well, sure," Heath said, crossing his arms and squinting in the sun,

"I don't doubt that much. But isn't that the key word-- lost? A man could spend a lifetime out here and still be chasing his own tail. Finding anything at all seems like more than a stretch."

"Maybe," Legault answered, still walking past the towering monoliths.

"If it's something that was just accidentally lost, then yes, I'd expect it to be buried under twenty miles of sand by now. If, on the other hand, it was hidden . . ."

The thief reached the lower end of the ribs, carefully studying the space between the two rows.

"It's much more likely it's something recoverable. After all, there's very little point in hiding something if you cannot recover it later, mm?"

Heath frowned.

"I guess. Even still, if this item is hidden, we don't have much indication of where or how. This map looks as though it were drawn by a small child, and I can't imagine you want to dig up every square inch of this place."

Legault tapped each of the bone pillars as he walked past them, almost as if he expected to discern something from them.

"I don't plan on it. But I don't think I have to. People tend to be very predictable when they're choosing places to conceal their ill-gotten gains. Creatures of habit, we are. Even when we try to be sneaky and clever about things, we can't help falling back on old patterns. Besides, there are very few distinguishing landmarks out here, so it narrows down the list of possibilities considerably."

Heath gazed upon the skeleton towering over them.

"I'll give you that. Yet that still doesn't narrow it down enough. If I were to hide something here, I would bury it fairly deep. It would still take us hours to properly search this place."

Legault nodded, working his way back to where Heath stood.

"I agree. But you'd be surprised. People can also be rather lazy. And sometimes, the best hiding spot is . . . in plain sight . . ."

Heath looked to the man. He was gazing curiously at the point just to the right of Heath, which was in the center immediately where the ribcage began. Heath followed his gaze and noticed nothing unusual.

"What is it?"

Legault approached the spot and Heath leaned in, staring hard at the ground. He finally noticed it-- a bronze color that blended in as nearly the same exact shade as the sand, but slightly different. It was very small, poking out of the ground perhaps a centimeter or two, and looked to be metal. Legault crouched down and touched it, then brushed at the sand around it. The bronze color grew a little. He brushed further, and revealed a broad, flat square shape. Heath watched in fascination as Legault revealed more and more of the object, until it became apparent what he was uncovering. It was a small metal chest.

"Dragon's teeth, Legault, how--"

"Don't just stand there, my handsome knight, help a fellow dig."

Heath set his lance to one side and dropped down, using both hands to excavate one side of the chest as Legault worked on the other. The sand was fairly loose and easy to move, although the chest was deeper than it had first appeared. After about ten minutes, they had worked it free from the Nabata's grasp, leaving behind a small gap that quickly seeped in again. The chest was fairly plain and unadorned, battered with age and rusted about the hinges. The only noteworthy feature was a small clasped keyhole, which Legault now eagerly examined. Heath watched impatiently.

"Can you open it?"

Legault laughed as he pulled the ring of lockpicks from his belt.

"Child's play. Awful lot of sand lodged in there, but shouldn't be an issue."

He kneeled before the chest and quickly set to work, prodding the keyhole with one of his smaller picks. Heath became absorbed in watching him, wondering what sort of delicate motions were involved in the procedure. Gradually, Heath became aware of a low, deep rumble, and he glanced up. To his surprise, there was a short, robed figure visible over one of the sand dunes above them, its arms outstretched. In front of it, a dark, shimmering ball of energy was slowly forming in the air, emitting an ominous drone.

Heath snatched up his lance and said,

"Legault."

The thief looked up, blinking at the shaman and the ball of magic overhead.

"Oh. Guess I should hurry."

The deep drone became a shrill whine. Heath began to stride toward the shaman, but the glistening sphere of purple-black shifted and seemed to melt, sinking in a series of foul tendrils to the ground. Heath stopped short, knowing he was too late to prevent the attack. The sand seemed to soak up the dark energy, and then the magic started to slither along the ground, almost as if alive. It was always incredibly difficult to predict how this spell moved, and Heath watched tensely. The inky shimmer picked up speed, darting left and right. Heath forced himself to stand still and wait until the last moment, so he could know exactly where he should dodge. It twisted left, right-- then turned again, coming right at him.

Just as Heath was seconds away from leaping aside, the magic halted, then rapidly billowed up from the ground in a cloud of black smoke. As the magic poured out, it made a fluttery, deflating sort of noise and dissipated into the air. The pair stared as the smoke petered out harmlessly in front of them and then finished with a final pitiful 'pfffft'.

Heath looked to Legault. The thief shrugged. From the sand dune above them, a brigand joined the shaman, sloppily waving an axe about, shouting profanities down at them. The shaman started forming a new ball of magic, but seemed to be having difficulty with conjuring it.

"Keep working. I'll take care of these geniuses."

As Heath bounded up the dune, Legault called after him.

"You sure you can handle them?"

It didn't take Heath long to meet the two misfits at the top of the dune. He came to the shaman first, who was still rushing to prepare his next spell, and thrust his lance into him; he bowled over immediately and landed in a heap upon the sand, the flux spell collapsing and dissolving. The brigand roared and charged him with a chipped iron axe. Heath stepped aside easily and shot his lance out, aimed dead-center at the brigand's chest. The lance met fiercely with the brigand's leather armor, but instead of piercing it, it just sort of . . . stopped. The brigand looked puzzled a moment, but then hefted up his axe and swung again at Heath. The wyvern knight blocked it with his lance, then thrust again with his weapon, plowing it forth even harder. The brigand was knocked back by the force, but was still left unharmed, other than looking a little dizzy. Heath faltered, confused. He backed off a few steps. Something was very wrong. Why . . . he glanced at his weapon. His heart sunk as he realized.

It wasn't his regular lance. The one he'd grabbed before he'd followed Legault out here-- gods. He'd been in a bit of a hurry, and he mustn't have been paying much attention. He'd grabbed his training lance by mistake.

A deep rumble made Heath look behind him. It was the shaman, looking tousled and injured, but nowhere near as harmed as he'd first assumed, trying once again to prepare a spell to launch. In front of him, the brigand charged again, axe swinging.

Crap.

Heath scrambled to one side, then paused, uncertain how to proceed. He opted for trying to bluff it, and sprang forward, driving the lance at the brigand, striking hard and repeatedly. He could have aimed for the throat, but it seemed far too cruel to drive a dulled blade down the simple-minded brigand's gullet. The brigand was knocked back by the flurry of strikes and struggled to dodge, but eventually seemed to grow more annoyed than fearful. The rumbling from the shaman had jumped again to a telltale whine, and Heath ducked to avoid a point-blank ball of energy. The dark magic rushed past him, leaving a foul odor of decay in its wake. Moments later, the brigand charged at him again. This was getting ridiculous.

Heath swung his lance handle-first, striking the brigand across his thick skull with the handle. The brigand yawped in pain, looking incredibly insulted. Heath continued to batter at him, and the brigand spat a stream of insults as he tried to fend the knight off. The shaman stepped in, trying to assist his partner, but Heath struck him hard with the lance head, thrusting it into his stomach. He swung the lance back around and set about jabbing it at the brigand again, who seemed to finally have enough of things. Harried and tormented, the man scrambled away from Heath, tripping over his own feet and sliding down the sand dune. Heath gave chase for a bit, but the brigand didn't turn back, his shaman partner rushing and limping along behind him as quickly as he could follow. Heath watched them retreat for a few moments longer, then turned to make his way back down the sand dune.

In truth, he'd silently been hoping Legault had been too busy with his lockpicking to pay too much attention to the little fracas, but as he walked back to the towering ribcage, it didn't take long to see the thief was standing there with an astonished expression. Heath set his jaw and marched up, pretending not to notice the look of confusion.

"You finally get that open?"

Legault wasn't letting him gloss this over.

"What in the world was that all about?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Were you-- were you toying with them or something? I couldn't really tell from back here. Why did you--"

"It isn't important, Legault."

"But you weren't even--"

"I told you, it isn't important."

"Heath!"

The knight shot back tersely,

"I've got the wrong lance, all right? Can we move on?"

"Wrong one? How do you mean?"

Heath grit his teeth and growled at him,

"It's my training lance."

Legault stared a moment at the lance in question, too stunned to react. Then his face split into a wide grin and he gave a muffled snigger. Heath spoke in a warning tone.

"Legault."

The thief's giggly snorts bubbled up into full-fledged laughter. Heath felt his face heating.

"I haven't slept in four days, Legault-- and I--"

Legault flailed, saying in a squeaky voice,

"You-- oh gods-- that poor brigand, no wonder--"

"It's not funny."

That seemed to undo the thief entirely, as he doubled over, collapsing uncontrollably into fits of mirth. Heath marshaled a look of pure poison. The man had an arm wrapped about his stomach and his head buried in one hand, his laughter a rich, silky sound bounding freely through the air. His eyes wrenched shut, he struggled for breath, gasping in desperate pockets in between spasms. Heath had never seen Legault laugh so hard, and there was something almost enthralling about seeing the thief so entirely lost to the throes of joy, but it was equally infuriating. Heath snapped hotly,

"Shut up."

Legault reeled, desperately trying to stop and speak, but just as he was about to muster some words, he melted again into raucous laughter. Heath fumed for a few moments as he laughed, then threatened,

"Legault, I'm going to knock you on your ass and leave you out here to die."

The thief squirmed, and with a great deal of effort got out,

"I'm--sorry--it's just--"

Giggles dissolved the rest of his sentence. Heath stepped forward and repeated dangerously,

"Legault."

"I'm sorry," he gasped, then lost himself to another fit. Heath shoved at him a little, and the motion pushed the giggling fool off-balance. Legault grabbed the knight's arm in response, tugging him forward slightly and causing Heath to slip on the sand, forcing him to take a few wild steps to regain his footing. They didn't go crashing to the ground, but Heath found himself in very tight quarters with the thief, glancing up to meet a lavender gaze that was bare inches from his. Heath felt a familiar electric thrill bloom in his chest, unbidden. It made little sense; the eyes locked with his were full of mischief and mirth, not the challenge of battle, yet being held in that gaze still dumped heady adrenaline into his system.

"Shut up," Heath repeated, but it didn't come out as harshly as he'd intended-- against his will, it was slowed, softened. The thief still had not released his arm, and his eyes seemed to grip his entire being.

Legault delicately licked his lips, and spoke in a low, feathery tone:

"Make me."

Heath swallowed and felt a shiver run up his spine. He was struck again with the delusion of Legault embodying a desert oasis. Some twisted voice in his head told him to satiate his thirst; he found himself glancing to Legault's mouth and wondering how he might taste.

In a hot panic, Heath pulled back, yanking himself free from the man's light grasp. The thief seemed unfazed, those damned eyes still upon him. Heath felt desperate to escape, stumbling backwards further and stammering out,

"Did you get the chest open or not?"

Legault gave him an enigmatic smile, then lifted a hand with a little flourish, materializing a small, copper-red ring. Heath looked at it briefly and quickly said,

"All right, great. Let's get the hell out of here."

Turning on his heel, Heath immediately started fast-walking in the direction of makeshift camp. The thief fell into step behind him, murmuring something in a tone that was oddly calm and sanguine:

"Suit yourself."

The trip back was not a particularly lengthy journey, because true to Legault's word, they really were not that far from camp. However, the walk still took a heavy toll. With Heath's anxious pace, they pushed through the hot sands at a punishing rate, hardly even pausing for breath. By the time the pair had dragged themselves back into sight of Eliwood's sorry little group, they had all but exhausted what little energy had remained.

It was only when they actually entered camp that it became increasingly obvious there had been some sort of skirmish in their absence. From the looks of it, it was a battle they'd come out on top of-- there were few obvious injuries and everyone appeared relatively calm. However, Eliwood and the other two lords were conspicuously absent, which didn't exactly bode well. As Heath and Legault moved to the shade of a tent, the Caelin knight Kent spotted them and approached, looking relieved.

"It's good to see you both back safely. I was beginning to grow concerned."

Legault replied, entirely drained but still managing to eke out a small amount of sass.

"S'good to be loved. Where's Eliwood gone to?"

The serious knight reported crisply,

"While you were gone, we came across a sage and his wife and rescued them from some stubborn treasure-hungry bandits. They claimed to know of the living legend, so Lords Eliwood and Hector and the Lady Lyndis are with them now. I was charged with watching for your return."

Legault answered blandly, as if he hadn't even heard him.

"That's good, I guess. Hold out your hand."

"I . . . beg pardon?"

"Hold out your hand."

Kent looked at Legault warily, but after a moment complied with the strange request, looking awkward and confused. Legault dropped the tiny magic ring into his hand.

"Hold on to that for me. Little something Eliwood was pining for. Thanks."

Without another word, he drifted over and flopped onto the ground, not even bothering with the nearby chair. Heath turned to Kent and nodded.

"If you'll excuse me, sir?"

"Of course."

Heath shuffled past, intent upon doing exactly the same, but he halted dead in his tracks as a stranger appeared. He was a terrifying-looking tattooed man, wielding an absolutely massive axe. Kent turned, only mildly surprised.

"Ah, you've returned. Are Lords Eliwood and Hector and Lady Lyndis with you?"

The barrel-chested man gazed stolidly at Kent a moment and then spoke in a baritone.

". . . come."

Kent looked confused.

"Do you bring a message from them, then?"

The man nodded slowly.

"I am to bring you to them."

"I see."

Kent glanced over to Heath, looking apologetic. Heath didn't like where this was going.

"If you both are able, I could use the help organizing everyone. We should not delay in joining them."

Heath closed his eyes. Then he sighed, grasping for whatever scraps of effort he had left within him.

The location that the terrifying berserker led them to was the most unlikely of places. It staggered the mind to even try to comprehend it; a massive underground temple, deep beneath the Nabata Desert, flowing with water and sparkling with fine stained glass. Heath did not even try to make sense of it. Whenever mages or magic-users were involved in some capacity, it seemed a fruitless task to try and ascribe common sense to things. Instead, he followed the group down the winding spiral staircases, deep into the marble-walled temple, and out into a grand round plaza, glowing gently with a pale blue light. He was not certain how his feet carried him upon the journey, but when at last they came to a stop, he used his final shred of energy to peel the armor from his body, before sinking down onto the cool, smooth tile floor.

The world around him spun gently, and he slipped into soothing darkness.

There was no telling how long Heath slept, but when he woke, it was at the gentle but urgent prodding of someone. He did not open his eyes, but mumbled a guttural noise of displeasure. The prodding stopped.

"Ah, thank gods. You're alive. Here."

He felt his hands being turned, and something cool and smooth was pressed into them.

"Sit up, if you can, and drink that. I'm sorry to wake you like this, but you really should hydrate. We kind of overdid it out there."

Heath opened his eyes blearily, looking at the goblet of water. It was glass and beautifully elegant, charmingly discordant with the world of the past several days. Heath stirred, then pulled himself into a sitting position, bringing the goblet to his mouth and obeying the command without question.

"Slow sips, slowly now! Don't want to sicken yourself. How are you feeling?"

Heath slowed his hectic gulps, then pulled himself from the goblet and blinked up at the man leaning over him. He looked almost ethereal in the glowing blue light of the temple. Heath tried to articulate a reply.

"All right."

"Any headache or dizziness? Still feel overheated?"

Heath concentrated.

"No . . . no. Just tired."

Legault stood back up to his full height.

"Good. No heat stroke then or anything. You keep drinking that slowly and rest. I won't bother you anymore for now. Take it easy, mm?"

The man withdrew and moved across the plaza to where some others were gathered in quiet conversation. Heath watched him go and then peered around the temple, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. He was feeling better-- that much was certain. As he sipped the water he found his faculties returning, thoughts arranging themselves in a lucid sequence. He recalled the moments just before he'd slipped unconscious, seeing Eliwood and the other lords and being greeted by a couple and a very elderly sage. They offered their hospitalities and invited them to rest during 'preparations'. Heath had not known what the 'preparations' referred to, but he now presumed the old man had been referring to some sort of magic spell. In any case, it was a welcomed and badly needed respite.

Heath sighed, allowing himself to relax. Normally, he would have been up the moment he was able. There was something nice about just sitting there, though, soaking in the coolness of the underground air, letting his aching body remain peacefully still. Heath's thoughts drifted, drawing gentle, lazy paths around speculation on the odd temple. His mind then wandered inevitably to the trip that brought them here and the strange journey with Legault through the smoldering desert. Heath truly didn't know what to make of it. He must have been in worse shape than he'd realized, the desert heat playing tricks with his mind. It was the only reasonable explanation, and the more he pondered the more it made sense. His relationship to Legault had always been fairly intense. Coupled with heat delusion, it was understandable he might confuse those feelings of intensity with other . . . other things.

Mirages. Desert mirages and delusions of the sands. It was a relief knowing that that was all it was. Something about it still niggled at his mind, but Heath tried not to worry about it. Legault had always been vexing to him, unmatched in his ability to disrupt Heath's equilibrium. It came as no surprise that the man continued that unnerving trend. Even now, Heath remained uncertain as to whether it was wise to seek the thief out in any capacity. For some reason, Heath always seemed to come back for more. It was nonsensical, but sense didn't seem to play much of a role in his behavior as of late.

Heath gazed across the plaza, smiling faintly at his own strange musings. In any case, he supposed he still had the time to puzzle things out. Assuming they were able to leave the Nabata Desert safely, Eliwood's group then faced a very long march across Elibe. Bern was many weeks away, flung on the opposite side of the continent. He did not look forward to reaching the country in the slightest, but at least he would not need to face it for quite some time. He imagined it would afford plenty of opportunity to solve any lingering questions and curiosities.

While Heath was lost in thought, the old sage and the lords had stepped to the center of the courtyard. His eye was drawn to them now as he idly wondered what they were discussing. Whatever it was, the old man seemed very intent on explaining something to Eliwood. After a moment, the young red-haired Lord closed his eyes, and the sage reached out, holding a hand over his forehead. Heath frowned, growing more curious. What were they doing? A gentle light began to shine from the sage's hand, and it slowly expanded, enveloping the entire plaza. As the light fell upon him, Heath realized he felt a warmth, followed by a strange, mild vertigo. The warmth began to burn and the vertigo increased, and Heath felt like he was falling inward. The world around them vanished into a bright white light.

When the dazzling light faded from Heath's vision, he was no longer sitting upon the cool tile floors of a vast underground temple. Instead, he found himself within the halls of a humble but lushly-carpeted castle, the evening torches burning merrily in rows along stone pillars. All around him, the rest of Eliwood's group stood looking dazed and confused. Heath closed his eyes and scrubbed at them, but when he opened them the new castle still remained. He really did hate magic.

In the center of the room, Eliwood was beaming, his eyes full of wonder. To Hector and Lyndis, he said,

"I can't believe it. It worked down to the very room I envisioned. Astonishing!"

Hector commented,

"Lucky thing you weren't picturing raiding the pantry or most of us would be in a wall right now."

Eliwood ignored him and turned to address the group.

"Everyone! Archsage Athos has succeeded in sending us to Castle Pherae. Bern is but a few days' travel, and from there, the Shrine of Seals. Take heart, for our destination is already within our grasp!"

Heath felt a knot of anxiety form in his throat. Pherae? All ready?

Eliwood and the other lords departed to locate the castle inhabitants, while others worked to take stock and confirm all party members, draft animals and supplies had arrived safely. Heath did not move from his position. He continued to gaze across the castle hall, a sense of dread growing in his mind.

It seemed he had very little time after all.

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#fire emblem #legault #heath #legault/heath #mystuff #fanfic

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