He yawned and stretched against the cool, soft grass, peering up through the sheltering branches of the tree at the blue, blue sky. The wind rippled through the glass, tossing at the strands of his wild, unruly hair. The breeze brought the sounds of birds singing, mingling with the chimes of the bubbling brook next to him.
Idly, he wondered how Lina and Gourry were doing. Maybe they had found another adventure to travel upon, probably still arguing like two--
Annoyed, he cut off his train of thought. Why the hell did he give a damn About them? He had left them behind many days ago--they were of no concern to him now. It was a good thing that he had left when he did; he was starting to enjoy the company of that spunky sorceress and her simple, honest swordsman.
And the last thing he needed was anybody in his life. He was destined to be a loner.
Right?
He sighed, closing his eyes, letting the sunlight drifting through the leaves warm his face, and tucked his hands underneath his head. Better to just forget the warmth of companionship that he had felt with Lina and Gourry. Better to just forget Rodimus and Zolf, his loyal henchmen, his only close friends. Better to just forget who he was, what he was , and just be one with the sun, earth, and water . . .
"Let go of me, you filthy piles of dung!" The shrill cry broke the peaceful mood of the countryside.
Zelgadis cocked open one brilliant green eye, and then the other, irritated And curious.
"Once my father finds out what you have done, he'll cut off your heads and hang them for the people to spit at!" The young voice shouted, scaring up some birds.
Zelgadis sat up, turning his head around. Hearing a rustle in the bushes on the other side of the river bank, he reached for the sword laying at his side and drew the blade.
"Will you shut the brat up?" another voice said, this one rough from years of drink.
"Get your hands off me, you--"
"There, that'll teach you to keep your bloody mouth shut," a third voice spoke with satisfaction. The rustle grew louder.
Zelgadis bolted to his feet, slipping behind the tree he was resting under, And peered around the trunk.
Three men, the largest one carrying a struggling sack, emerged from the bushes. The trio were of dubious appearance, not exactly the kind that you would want to ask to hold one's money pouch. The smallest one, an effeminate faced man with two bare, wicked-looking swords resting on each hip, approached the river bank.
"We'll rest here for a while," he said, gesturing for the large one to set his bundle down. He was the one with the rough voice. Obviously, Pretty-boy was the ringleader. "Make sure he doesn't get away like he almost did last time."
Big-Beef nodded, dropping the sack unceremoniously. And then, for good measure, he kicked it. A groan of pain issued from the bag.
"That'll teach you, flamin' little runt," he grunted with pleasure, baring all five of his teeth.
Zel's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He wasn't the type to go around performing good deeds, but he wouldn't just stand by and watch a child get kidnapped.
He prepared to step out form behind the tree when the middle one spoke up in a hoarse voice.
"We are not alone."
Zelgadis froze, his eyes fixed on the middle one, a young man with a plain, food-stained tunic and hunched shoulders. His face gave off an aura of years beyond that he has lived, like that of a . . .
Their eyes met.
On pure instinct, Zelgadis threw himself away from the tree, rolling hard onto the ground and landing halfway off the riverbank as the tree exploded into a brilliant array of flames.
"What the hell--!" Pretty-Boy shouted, jerking out his swords. "What do you think you're doing, Mentaticus?!"
Mentaticus lowered his still smoking hand, gazing steadily at the rising Zelgadis. "As I have said, we are not alone."
The other two jerked their heads around.
Zelgadis shook his head slightly to get the ringing of the fireball explosion out of his ears. He then dusted off the front of his tunic and adjusted his red brooch. When he was done, he calmly lifted his head to gaze at the trio, pointing the tip of his sword at them.
"You shouldn't have come this way," Zelgadis said quietly, letting the sunlight fall upon his freakish face. "You may have lived longer."
"Cripes!" Big-Beef swore, staring at the chimera, at his blue-green skin dotted by dark blue ridges and the wild lavender hair upon his head with the tips of pointed ears poking out from the disarray. Green slit-pupil eyes returned the stare coldly. "What in bloody hell is it?"
"A foe to be reckoned with," Mentaticus said matter-of-factly. He held out his hand, another fireball condensing in his palm. "We must kill him, quickly!" He hurled the fireball with all his strength.
Zelgadis smiled darkly. " Ray wing !" he shouted, the protective shield of air surrounding him. The fireball engulfed him just then, sparking against the shield but not breaking through. He leapt out over the river, the ball of air carrying him over to the other side, nearly on top of Big-Beef.
Big-Beef had pulled out an enormous warhammer and was about to make good use of it when Zelgadis pushed himself out of the sphere and into the air. The hammer smashed through the air barrier, not stopping the descent of the ray wing . The bubble engulfed him, leaving him trapped within the sphere, his enormous bulk squashed against the walls of it.
"Say bye-bye," Zelgadis told him coolly, landing on the ground. He pressed a finger to the side of the sphere. " Mana bolt !"
Electric lightning sparked from his finger to the globe, jumping and spider- webbing across the sphere. Big-Beef shrieked in pure agony as the glittering jolts sizzled into his flesh, his cries echoing inside the ray wing .
Turning away, he faced the other two, swishing his cloak behind him.
"Bastard!" Pretty-Boy screamed, watching the horrendous display of electrical shock with wide, terror-filled eyes. He took a step back and tripped over the surprisingly still sack.
Mentaticus nodded accordingly. "Well done. I never thought of using the useless ray wing that way."
The sorcerer is the one that I'll have to be wary of , Zelgadis observed, his cold eyes fixated on the plain young-old man. He's no third-rate dandy, I can see that.
"In return for your trick," Mentaticus said, pointing one finger at the chimera, "allow me to show you one of mine."
Zelgadis braced himself, his mind racing through all the spells that his opponent could possibly use under such small surroundings and the possible ways he could counter it.
Mentaticus slowly lowered his finger to the ground at Zel's feet. " Black Claw rise! I command thee !"
"Black Claw?" Zelgadis repeated confusedly. I never heard of such a spell in all of Shamanism, Black, and White Magi---
The earth rocked beneath his feet. Zelgadis fell to his knees, his sword dropping from his hand.
"Rise!" Mentaticus shouted gleefully.
Zelgadis twisting away from where he had been kneeling just as the huge fist of rock surged from of the ground, rising into the air. What the hell?
Noticing that it's victim had eluded it, the hand opened up and slammed into the ground right next to Zel, narrowly missing him.
Mentaticus laughed. "What do you think of my pet, demon?"
It slammed down again, catching his cape. Thick, stubby fingers closed upon the cloth, lifting him up. Gritting his teeth, Zelgadis reached up and unsnapped the red brooch that held up cape and fell to the ground, rolling up to the balls of his feet.
In a rage, it let the cape flutter away and began to smash its fist into the ground in a frenzy. Zelgadis looked up and danced away as the fist met ground, smashing bushed and sending up clouds of dirt.
A feral grin on his face, Zelgadis blurred around the fist, appearing a few Feet behind Mentaticus as if he had teleported there.
It's times like this that I appreciate what Rezo had done to my body ...
" Shadow snatch ... " he whispered, tossing the ball of magic at Mentaticus's shadow. The magic sharpened to a line of line and smashed into the ground with explosive force, getting Mentaticus's attention.
He whirled around. "You! How'd you get there?"
Zelgadis shrugged and pointed behind the other. "Question is, how will you get out of this one?"
Mentaticus glanced over his shoulder and gasped. The black claw was thudding along the ground in a straight line towards its target--Zelgadis. He turned to run out of the way, but was jerked back.
"Seems like your shadow has a slight problem."
Mentaticus stared numbly at the magical sword pierced through his shadow. Then panic ensued within his eyes. He struggled through the incantation of the light spell to counter the shadow snatch .
He was through the last word when the fist came smashing down.
Zelgadis turned his head away from the wind stirred by the force of rock meeting earth and flesh. And as the sorcerer met death, the rock froze and crumbled, covering the pancake-sorcerer's body in a crude cairn.
The smoke cleared and the dust settled, revealing the last of the trio, who had been watching the battle from his fallen position over the sack.
Zelgadis stepped over the large pile of rocks and approached Pretty-Boy slowly, steadily.
Pretty-Boy scrambled to his feet. "Not yet!" he exclaimed. "Not here! I will face you on my own terms, demon, and beat you sword to sword! We will meet again, vile monster of darkness!"
And then he turned and ran.
Zelgadis rolled his eyes with a sigh. "How absurd." He flicked his wrist, a small decorated dagger slipping into the palm of his hand. Kneeling by the now-wiggling sack, he cut the strings that bound it tight.
"Are they gone?" a small, young voice asked.
Zelgadis stood up and turned away, tucking his knife back up his sleeve. "They're gone. You're free to go." He strolled over to where his cloak and sword had fallen, picking them up.
A small boy of eight in worn finery squirmed out of the sack. "My father Will reward you greatly for saving me," he said imperiously. "Anything you desire."
Zelgadis laughed shortly, sheathing his sword. "Your father could not grant what I desire." Shaking the dust off his cloak, he swung it around his shoulders, pinning it back on and pulled the cowl over his hair. "Now run home, little one."
The boy folded his arms over his chest. "Impertinent peasant! Do you know who I am? I am Daren, son of Daesar, King of Valayden. Now, escort me home at once!"
A smile of bitterness tugged at a corner of Zel's lips. "Are you sure about that, little one?" he asked softly, turning around and crossing the space between them.
Daren took a step back, his eyes widening into saucers as Zelgadis stood over him. His knees shook and fell on his butt, gawking.
"A-a-a d-d-demon . . ." he stuttered. And then the look faded away into one of curiosity and he stood, dusting his threadbare and mud-stained finery.
"A demon," he repeated, staring up. "Why would a demon save me? Unless the legends were true about how my ancestor, King Amadi, forced the Lord of Demons to bow to him and to obey his commands!"
The boy jumped up and down in delight, nearly scaring Zelgadis. "This shows how truly great my family is! Even still the Lord of Demons bows to us and sends his underlings to aid us!"
Zel raised an eyebrow. (Well, he would, if he had any. ;P)
The boy suddenly stopped his bouncing, and straightened, trying to assert a look of command on his young, cute face. Big blue eyes tried their best to look mean and grown-up. "Now, demon, by my ancestor, I order you to take me back to my father! If the Lord of Demons has sent you to save me, then I'm sure that he expects you to finish the job. Right?"
Zelgadis gazed down at the little prince for several moments, shocked. And then he chuckled, a soft amused laugh.
"Hey! Demons aren't supposed to laugh! You're supposed to be mean and fierce."
Zel reached down and ruffled Daren's matted blond hair, deciding to humor the kid. After all, he had no place to go, and perhaps this King might allow him to use their extensive library so he could get a start on finding a cure. "I'll try to remember that. And please, Your Highness, if I am to escort you home, call me Zelgadis."
Daren folded his arms over his chest and nodded. "It's nice to have you cooperating with me. I'll give your master a good report on you, Mister Zelgadis. And you may call me Daren. No need to be formal."
Zelgadis only shook his head in amusement. "Come on, little one, and you can explain what happened to you while I find you something to eat, a bath, and some new clothes."
"That's a good idea, Mister Zelgadis. You're a smart demon!" The boy wrapped his arms around Zel's waist happily. "I'm glad the Lord of Demon's sent you. You're not all that horrid-looking like pictures I've seen, and even if you were kinda mean at first, you really beat those kidnappers!"
"Uh, thanks, I guess." Zelgadis looked down at the boy and tentatively rested a hand on his hair. What have I gotten myself into?