Chapter 164 - Eight

XIX.

Elias du Chevalier was prowling the streets of Khadez, taking the time to enjoy the beautiful sights. 

Most of all, he was enamored with the townsfolk, watching as they milled about. He liked the way they dressed, in fashionable gowns, surcoats and hats, quite unlike the standard fare of cloth robes in the region. They were stylish people, shopping at stylish boutiques and perfumeries. Sipping tea for breakfast, at fresco diners. Going for leisurely rides, along the canal. It was to him, the very picture of a civilized society -- something rare and precious to behold in what he viewed as the barbaric east.

Elias could tell that only the cream of the crop -- the region's elite -- could afford to live here.

At a frothing fountain, he sat and dipped his fingers into the cool water while the sound of the running water and children playing in the square tickled his ears. Pleasant as this moment of respite was, Elias despised the heat of the desert lands of the Ishtari. A relentless dry heat that sank deep into your clothes, making men to act more akin to wild beasts from the sheer torture of it, or so he figured. It served as a constant reminder that he was still indeed far, far from the comforts of  home.

Elias's thoughts drifted back to the Fralian countryside...

The last he'd seen of his homeland was before it was taken by the Golden Ankh in a fierce struggle, said to have been fought to the last man. 

He could only imagine what state it was in now, but in his time it was paradise. A majestic land of vast, sprawling vineyards. Fields of golden grain, that stretched for miles across hilly terrain, cut through by horse-paths that would take you between the gorgeous villas of the wealthy landowners, and picturesque little hamlets of the good, hardworking common folk. 

A singular ambition drove him: once my work is done here, I can finally return home.

All it would take was for him to follow the Obelisk's orders to keep track of the girl. For what purpose, he didn't know. It wasn't his place to know.

But God help if that rat boy -- that Typhon -- or anyone, should dare stand in his way.

Glancing up from the fountain he was still sat at, Elias chanced upon two drab hooded figures stepping out of the boutique across the square. One a boy, the other a girl with white hair. They were noticeable, to say the least, among the posh, flamboyant attires of Khadez's people, and their movements doubly so as they fluttered about briskly, clinging to the crowds.

Elias rose to follow, touching his rapier hilt with anticipation. 

"My, what a lovely day to go for a stroll," he said aloud, earning a tilt of the hat of an oblivious gentleman passing by. 

It was a gesture Elias would have reciprocated, if not for the pressing task at hand.

Typhon glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his voice, and saw him. Grabbing El's hand, he began pulling her along at a brisk pace. El had seen him too, with the murder in his eyes. 

"Is that boy following us?"

"He works for my father! He's the one that did this to my--"

Typhon cut himself off mid-sentence, as he felt the spot on his cheek where Elias had struck him. To his surprise, the wound had already healed, without leaving a trace. "Never mind."

"What matters is I know where we can go to get a ride out of town, once we're free of that guy."

El bit her lip, feeling a tinge of guilt over constantly relying on Typhon.

But, the clock tower man said I'm an angel.

And I already know there are things I can do, that normal people can't.

"Typhon," she said, overcome by a familiar sensation rising up within her. A sensation she'd felt just before sprouting her wings for the very first time.

Typhon saw the confidence in her face.

"I can handle this," she said.

Because I can do more than just fly away.

XX.

Elias kept up his pursuit, even as Typhon took multiple twists and turns and detours, through crowded pavilions, busy streets, and tight alleyways. It was clear to him that the rat was fleeing with no idea of where it was going. But like any dumb prey, Elias surmised he would eventually run into a dead end. 

And at that time, he would strike through its heart.

They were walking along one of the canals, however, when both El and Typhon stopped dead in their tracks. El  then wheeled around, facing him with an unreadable frown.

Elias wasn't sure what to make of this.

Could it be the girl is simply giving herself up?

She walked slowly toward him, until they were barely a few inches apart.

Elias scoffed. That cowardly rat! 

But upon looking El over, Elias smirked.

"Now that I've got a good look at you," he said, stroking his finger through El's hair. "I must say, you are quite the handsome young lady."

El stirred a little at his touch, but said nothing.

She was busy concentrating, reaching deep into herself. Trying to grab hold of that something within her, that was struggling to break free.

Elias snickered, seeing her silence as surrender.

"Don't be shy. I would never harm such a pretty face."

Out of the corner of his eye, with mischievous glee he could see Typhon standing there, helplessly observing the proceedings.

Look at how pathetic he looks, like always.

He's so weak. So fragile.

Raised under his father's wing, never having to stand on his own.

Just looking at him makes me sick. 

"I wonder if that rat over there has feelings for you," Elias said with a conniving grin, slowly turning his attention back to El as he delicately held her head in both his hands.

Then, leaning forward, he kissed her on the lips.

Typhon gasped, and was reaching for his dagger to intercede when suddenly--

A bright flash of light shined forth from El's eyes.

Blinded, Elias reeled back in alarm, grunting and cursing as he drew his rapier and began flailing it around uselessly, attracting shrieks and admonishing cries from onlookers. Wary of his swings, El delivered a kick that sent him flying into the freezing water of the canal.

After remaining submerged a bit, weighed down by his waterlogged clothes, Elias popped back up, coughing and yelling.

"Coward!" He yelled. "Stupid, dirty, coward rat!"

El grabbed Typhon and together, they ran.

They ran, laughing, through the streets of Khadez – like it was that night of tasting sweet, sweet freedom for the first time all over again. And they kept running, until Typhon had to stop in an empty alleyway to catch his breath. 

He noticed El wasn't panting, or sweating at all.

"There's a lot I still don't know about you." Typhon said, between huffs. 

"Like, just now...what did you do?"

El only shrugged – there was a lot she didn't know about herself either.

"With the crazy powers you have..." 

Typhon laughed. 

"You probably don't need me anymore."

"No," El quickly said, clinging to him. "I am lost without you!"

Typhon blushed. "Relax! It was only a joke, El."

"Huh? What is a--"

"Never mind," Typhon said.  Let's just go..."

Just as he had hoped, a fleet of trade wagons awaited them when they reached a plaza on the outskirts of town. With some convincing, he was able to secure them a ride on the back of one, along with all the packed crates, and barrels, among loose piles of hay.

At once, his heart filled with joy and dread, at the prospect of what awaited them on the horizon.

Typhon...was coming home.

XXI.

A hunter was crouched on the silver bough of a tree, honing his bow on the bloody corpse of a stag amid the coarse undergrowth below. He listened to the gentle rustling of leaves in the amicable wind, every now and then briefly shifting his aim toward an unexpected movement in the brush – usually to discover a bird, which he'd already hunted enough for that day, or a mouse or vole, neither of which were any good for eating. 

After some time, a scraggly wolf limped into view. An outcast adolescent by the looks of it, as it was all skin and bones, and desperate enough for a meal to resort to scavenging. A pitiable sight, all around.

The hunter watched it, drawing back an arrow on the bowstring, waiting patiently. 

Only when the lone straggler was close enough to the bloody lure to sink its teeth into it, did the hunter unleashed his arrow to fell the lone beast with but a brief yelp.

Jed smiled at yet another successful hunt, then climbed down from his treetop perch.

A young man with a personal kill count higher than many twice his age, Jed approached the still jerking, writhing animal with his knife drawn, and a solemn, undisturbed air about him. After all, what he was about to do was gruesome as much as it was necessary. Wolves were a threat to his people who lived in those very woods, always preying on the livestock and children that wandered off too far into the woods alone, only for their brutalized remains to be discovered later, if at all. 

Jed knew that, living out there in the woods, a little peace of mind came at a constant price.

The wolf's panicking eye flickered in the socket, before settling on its killer, just before Jed silently stooped with his knife to bloody his hands with the final cut.

Content with his yield for the day, Jed headed back to town.

Frogman was out on his balcony.

He hailed Jed as he walked past, with a string of partridge birds slung over his shoulder, draining blood all over the back of his shirt..

"Nice catch," Frogman said, nodding his approval.

"Shot a buck, too." Jed said. "It was pretty big, so it'll be good for a few steaks tonight."

Frogman smiled. "Alright. I'll send the boys out for it, in a bit."

Jed walked around the perimeter of the mansion, past the chopping block, to a shed in the backyard where all the skinning tools were kept. He had to raise his voice for Frogman to hear him at this distance.

"Caught a wolf," he said, like it was no more than an afterthought. 

"Looked like it was starving."

Frogman chuckled. "Don't tell me you're starting to feel sorry for them."

Jed threw open the doors to the shed, flinching at the scent. – that of death. Something he swore he'd never get used to.

"Bridgette's been saying she needs a new pair of mittens."