Young Writers Society

Chapter 5

Dead Man's Footsteps

Count Vincent Einzbern, Ryall Manor, Whiteridge

Count Vincent Einzbern had watched the entire fight from the shadows.

The man in black pulled the knife from Elden's body.

"Poor bastard. Just wanted his family back. . ." Vincent said, stepping out to face the man.

The bounty hunter whirled around, preparing to throw the knife as he turned, though its power was useless--used up on Elden.

He sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. "It's you." His face contorted for a moment, returning to a long chin with sharp features. His hair darkened, lengthening from short, straight, and pale to shoulder-length and curly black. His eyes morphed from red to gold.

The late Count Ien Einzbern's red-and-blue-eyed son, Vincent, walked out to face the bounty hunter.

"Took you long enough to kill him, Blaise," he said softly.

"Don't call me Blaise. It's been years since we talked--you hired me as Phantom the bounty hunter."

"The others I've hired took substantially less time," Vincent continued, ignoring him.

Blaise glared at Vincent. "Shut your damn mouth or I'll shut it for you," he said. "I'm not reckless like them other bounty hunters you've hired." He lit another cigar by snapping his fingers. "I'll get the job done, and I'll get it done right." He puffed out a breath of smoke.

Wish I had the strength to kill the bastards myself, Vincent thought. "Anyhow--" Vincent felt a tic in his right eye.

He felt a familiar tingling sense as his shoulder began to twitch.

Vincent collapsed in a heap of convulsions. His face was contorted into what could only be described as one thing: agony.

[A/N: I find it funny that as I was writing this scene, I was listening to "Clair de Lune".]

"Nn--hmm, hnn, haaaahh. . ." Vincent sputtered. 

Blaise stared at him--almost angrily--from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, fine," he sighed, stamping out his cigar. "That's the second cigar in an hour." Blaise braced Vincent's abdomen and shoulders as he thrashed around.

****

Vincent woke with a start. He scrambled to his feet, somewhat discombobulated. "Wh-what happened?"

Blaise lit yet another cigar. "Seizure." 

Vincent picked up his mahogany cane. He clutched it tightly between both his hands, leaning on it for support.

"Damn condition. I'm a freak. Discolored hair. Mismatched eyes." Vincent's teeth were clenched so tightly he began to taste coppery droplets of blood. 

"A frail body. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it all!" he roared in frustration.

"Am I done here? Or is there another job you want me to take? I've got other clients, you know," Blaise said flatly, lighting a third cigar.

Vincent looked up sharply. "Fine. There is another task. I'll need you more than once if I'm to complete my framing of Visermann Ryall."

Prince Edmond Ryall, Whiteridge

Elden returned some time later.

"Took you long enough," Lionel said. "I was starting to think you'd been murdered or something."

Elden stared at him flatly. Myles chuckled.

"So, what's the game plan?" Edmond asked.

"Lord Alexander ordered me to take you here and hide out for a span of two days, to make sure the palace and manor were safe," Elden said. "We've been here almost a full day."

Edmond nodded. That sounded like something his father would do.

"What are we supposed to do for these two days?" Myles asked, strolling over.

"Stay safe, I assume," Edmond answered.

"Most likely," Elden said solemnly. "My Lord Ryall didn't give any more instructions than to take you here, but I imagine he'd want you to stay safe." Elden began to remove Frost's tack.

"How do you get good at this!?" Richard muttered, frustrated at being unable to win a single round of Snake.

"You gotta flick your wrist and let the stone slide from your hand, like this." Lionel picked up a stone, tossing it into the gravel ring. Richard tried to copy the movement, but failed, the stone flying wild and missing the ring completely.

"Ather's Gates, I give up!" Richard stood, stretching. "You're back, " he said, finally noticing Elden. "Do you have any pointers on how to get this--" he gestured toward the ring and Lionel's twelve-pointer "--Snake?" he asked, throwing his hands up exasperatedly.

Elden looked over his shoulder. "What?" he asked. 

"See?" Richard told Lionel. "Even the skilled Elden doesn't know how to get that Snake!"

"Here, give me a try," Elden said. He stopped brushing Frost and picked up a blue stone.

Edmond eyed him. 

The way he's holding the stone is different. . . 

Elden threw the stone. It missed the ring completely, making a sharp crack as the rock hit the stone walls. 

"I've intimidated you now, have I?" Lionel laughed, walking to pick up the fallen stone.

Elden smiled a lopsided smile. "Everyone messes up now and again."

"Not Lionel. . ." Richard muttered.

Elden picked up another stone.

Edmond realized something was very wrong. 

The new stone Elden threw was turquoise. 

"Wait a minute," Edmond said. "You always chose the green stones before."

Elden stared at him blankly. "What?"

"You threw a blue one, and now a turquoise one," Edmond said slowly, his hand creeping to his sword, realizing that something was very wrong.

"Edmond, a man can choose a different color stone," Myles said.

"But he's also holding it differently. . ." Edmond realized nobody would listen to him.

"You're just making a big deal out of nothing, Edmond," Elden said. "You're probably in shock."

Lionel looked up at him and smiled apologetically. "I don't like to get on your bad side, Your Worshipness, but I think Elden's right on this one."

". . . Fine." I'm probably just putting too much thought into this anyway.

"Take this, Edmond." Elden handed him a vial. "It helps with shock and should help you sleep."

Shouldn't a person in shock stay conscious? Edmond realized, but it was too late. He had already drank the solvent and was drifting into oblivion.

**** 

"Get up." Somebody grabbed his collar and forcefully pulled him upward.

"W-wha?" Edmond sputtered. He blinked a few times, trying to rid himself of sleepiness. It was nighttime. Edmond's only source of light was a dim ray of moonlight from the hollow's entrance.

Elden's face was inches from his.

"How'd you notice?" he asked in a low voice that did not sound at all like Elden's stiff alto. "You should be in shock." 

Before Edmond could answer, Elden pulled Edmond over and threw his knee into Edmond's gut.

This man is not Elden Drusillus, Edmond thought in horror.

Edmond sucked in a sharp breath as pain washed over him, only making the faintest of grunts as he tried to cry out.

Elden repeated the process.

Again.

And again.

Finally, as he began to see spots, Edmond's remembered his training and reacted--bracing his arms under his stomach, forming a line with his dominant arm over his left. 

Elden, shocked by hitting the hardened muscle and bone of Edmond's forearms hesitated for a moment.

Edmond seized the chance he was given and grabbed Elden's knee, pulling upwards.

Elden, caught by surprise, collapsed on his back, his head making a sharp crack on the cold stone.

Edmond let go, leaving the unconscious Elden alone while he woke Lionel and the twins.

"Oh, no you don't," the man behind Edmond growled. A hand clamped down tightly on Edmond's shoulder.

He lifted his hand as high as he could--both to distract Elden and loosen the grip on his shoulder--and spun around, pressing downward on the arm that held Edmond.

There was nobody behind Edmond.

Curses. He's fast,  Edmond thought, taking up a defensive stance--left wolf.

"You might have skills in hand-to-hand combat," someone whispered behind him. Edmond whirled around.

"But you're not used to real combat."

Edmond felt a sharp blow on his shoulder, possibly dislocating it. He cried out, for real this time.

"Mph, nn. . ." Lionel moaned in his sleepy state. His eyes fluttered open. "Ed--Edmond?" he yawned.

A hand cupped over Edmond's mouth.

"It's all right, Lionel," the man said, this time in Elden's voice. "Edmond just had a nightmare."

Edmond felt something poke him. A warm fluid began to soak his cloak. 

"My brother wouldn't cry out from a simple nightmare," Richard growled, removing his blade from Elden's back. "And you've been bothering me all night."

The man's grip loosened on Edmond's face, and Edmond pulled away. 

"The real captain of our royal guard would respect us--calling us either "Young Prince" or "My Lord". But you stopped that when you came back--you were calling my brother Edmond," Richard said, stepping in front of Edmond to face whoever attacked him.

Blood drizzled out of his mouth. His knees buckled and he fell over, his blood pooling around him.

"Now that that's over. . . " Richard said.

The man stood. He smiled, spreading his hands.

"That was good acting, wasn't it?"

Richard visibly paled in the faint moonlight.

The man spat out a clot of blood. "You ain't gonna kill me, kids," he chuckled. His smile faded and suddenly his face was deadly serious.

"Nobody beats Phantom."

The name rung a familiar bell in the back of Edmond's mind, but he was too preoccupied with what was going on in front of him to remember.

Richard charged forward, transferring his knife to his left hand and stabbing for Phantom's face.

Phantom sidestepped easily and caught Richard's hand with his left, shocking Richard to the point where he dropped his blade.

Phantom stepped forward and pressed the heel of his right hand into the blade of Richard's shoulder, making him bend over.

Edmond stared in dismay. 

Within seconds, his brother had been disarmed and captured.

And all Edmond could do was helplessly watch in horror.

Phantom pressed harder, making Richard bend even more. Richard grimaced.

Out of the corner of his eye, Edmond saw Lionel quietly making his way towards Edmond's sword.

"Do keep from using the blade, my dear Lionel," Phantom said. 

Lionel stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed in fear.

My knife! Edmond thought. 

His hand crept toward the single ebony throwing knife he kept in a hidden pocket on the back of his belt.

He felt a sharp pop! and realized his shoulder had popped back into place.

I almost forgot about that. . .

"My dear prince Edmond," Phantom said. Edmond stifled a yelp.

"What?" he asked, his tone surprisingly flat for the terror he felt at that moment.

Just a little further. . . Edmond felt his fingers brush the hilt of the blade.

"I'm responsible for your assassination," Phantom said, almost jovially. "But I haven't been ordered to kill anyone else." He paused.

"You can see where this is going, can't you?"

Edmond took his moment to strike, throwing with all the strength and accuracy he could muster.

The blade sliced cleanly through the muscle that connected Phantom's shoulder and neck.

With nothing keep it balanced, Phantom's head lolled to the side.

Edmond realized with a growing sense of disgust how they were going to beat their opponent.

"The connections," he said softly. Then louder, "The ligaments! Tendons, sinew, connection muscles--destroy those! Make his body useless!"

Lionel's eyes widened, Edmond's realization dawning on him.

The kensin, Edmond thought. The knives!

Lionel apparently had the same idea, making his way to Edmond's bag.

Phantom released Richard, diving forward to grab Edmond.

But there was a drawback.

He crashed into the wall, several feet from Edmond.

"You can't see properly with your head off balance like that, can you, Phantom?" Edmond asked.

Lionel tossed Edmond a small leather sheath. 

Edmond caught it, pulling a blade from it.

Phantom hopped back up, taking up an aggressive stance--full wolf. He kept his legs shoulder width apart and his body low to the ground--it focused more on center of balance and the ability to advance more than anything.

Edmond threw his kensin blade.

Kensin was a metal that reacted violently when wet. That made it hard to travel with--because if it rained, you'd be in trouble if you didn't have the proper equipment--but it was very useful in combat.

It sank deep into Elden's shoulder, and exploded.

His arm hung on his body by torn shreds of clothing and muscle.

Lionle slashed downward with his own blade, slicing the back of Phantom's knee and severing the ligaments, while at the same time Myles--where'd he come from?--jumped and tore at Phantom's other shoulder.

Lionel hopped backwards, keeping his blade in front of him as he made distance between him and Phantom. Myles kept hacking away.

At some point, Phantom had grabbed Richard's knife.

He turned violently and his arm--deadweight as it was--swung heavily around. 

Myles's temple met the hilt of Richard's blade, and he crumpled.

"Well damn," he said. "Looks like this body is useless."

What? Edmond wondered.

Phantom looked upward--well, tried to--and sighed. He almost sounded relieved.

A faint, white mist emitted from his mouth.

He toppled over, blood rushing from a wound over his heart.

None of us made that wound, Edmond thought. Was he killed before he fought us? But that doesn't make sense.

His eyes fluttered open for a moment. He smiled faintly. 

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Elden whispered, before closing his eyes forever.

"Hail and farewell, my friend," Edmond said quietly, lowering his head.

"What do we do now?" a battered Lionel asked.

"First," Edmond said tiredly, gently grabbing Elden's ankles, "we get him on Frost."

Lionel nodded, roughly picking up Elden's shoulders and helped Edmond heave his limp body on to Frost's back.

Edmond eyed Lionel's rough way of handling Elden's dead body.

"I'm trusting that you wouldn't disrespect the dead without reason, Lionel," Edmond said softly. "Don't betray that trust."

"We'll let the priests take care of him once we get to Ryall Manor." Edmond surveyed the mess of blood and torn cloth on the ground and walls.

Edmond sighed, absently placing his hand on the hilt of Darkheart and looking at Richard. "We ride at midday. Get packing--we have to get to Father, quickly." He gently removed his silver crown, placing it inside his bag. "And it would be best if onlookers didn't know we hail from Stowerling Palace."

Visermann Ryall, Ryall Manor, Whiteridge

"Al," Visermann inquired with mock innocence, "where are the Ryall princes?"

"Um, eh, er. . . " he stuttered. "I do not know, my Lord."

"Well," Visermann said darkly, advancing on his guard head. "I know you have a talent for breaking things--but surely you couldn't have broken a piece of paper with a wax seal when giving it to Elden Drusillus, could you?"

"N-no, my Lord," he stammered. "I delivered it to the Lord Provost undamaged, my Lord."

"I see. . ." Visermann's eyes narrowed. He turned around to leave. "Back to work," he barked. Al yelped and hustled out of the room.

Then where are the boys? Visermann wondered furiously. I cannot unlock the Archives without those boys!

______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: 

So, I based Vincent's condition on an actual medical condition called tuberous sclerosis.

Okay, I understand that you may not have a family full of auto immunes and other various medical problems. You may--unlike me--not want to go into the medical field and become a doctor. That's fine. But, for those of you who want it, I'll go a little more into explaining tuberous sclerosis.

Tuberous sclerosis is a rare multi-system condition that causes benign (non-life threatening) tumors to develop in the brain and other vital organs (eyes, liver, kidneys, lungs, heart, et cetera).

It most often affects the central nervous system and causes combinations of the following symptoms: Seizures, skin and eye coloring abnormalities, pale or silver hair, delay in the developmental process (should the condition be contracted within childhood), behavioral issues, and kidney disease. In some cases--depending on where tumors are located--unnatural stoicism (lack of emotion) and sociopathic (inability to be empathetic) tendencies can occur.

Pronunciation Guide:

*Ryall

RE-all.

*Rhylath

RYE-ah-lath.

*Visermann

V-EYE-zer-men. It's a hard v. Vi is one syllable.

*Einzbern

This is a German name. (It could be German or French, depending on your pronunciation. I'm going for the German form, since I've used enough French names in this series already.) It isn't super hard to pronounce, but I thought I should put it here anyway.

EYE-n-Z-burn.

*Kensin

I have no desire for people to start getting into fights over how to pronounce this word, so I'm spelling it out for you now.

Ken-ZIN.