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Ebony and Lavender: A Knights Quest
by StarbearerTM
More by this Writer
The world is changing around him and Sir Trunks of Capsule must embark on a quest with Mazuko Magician Gohan to right the evils they encounter. But darkness isn't always evil, nor is light always good.
Graphic Violence
Chapter 02: A Wizard and a Dragon
By the time he stood up and dusted himself off the cold flat surface he was shut off from the cold outside. He could see only immediately around him thanks to Tapion’s blue illumination. The shadows extended to the fringes of an 11 foot sphere and then nothing. He saw glowing runes and murmured, “Well I can’t go back… but I can go ahead. Seems this wizard has a sense of humor…”He smelled an aroma like ginger tea, but no mustiness or dampness. No doubt another spell. Tapion jingled less like glass bells and more like brass ones now. “Oh now I see you’ve got your second wind back…” Trunks quipped.
Down the curling spiral path he walked, for what seemed a long time. “Infinity stairs, with any luck…” he sighed.
Tapion tingled a bit and he pulled out a crossbow. Aiming it into the gloom he fired and waited to hear any sound. Nothing. Shaking his head, Trunks quipped, “Yes, it had to be infinity stairs…”
Dredging up a memory Sir Trunks then heard a voice in his ear. It was raspy like his but far deeper: In shadow the voice murmured, “If you’re ever in an infinite stair spell… remember ki…”
“Ki? But that’s far too simple, father,” Trunks had mumbled.
“Magic isn’t your strong suit, Son, but you are at least competent as a fighter. You take after you mother in more than your hair,” commented the black haired warrior, flaring the same blue energy that comprised Tapion.
Habituated to his father’s insults and left handed complements Trunks closed his eyes and focused his ki through his sword. He then slashed sideways, with his blue blade contacting the walls. They fell away like paper to reveal a spiral staircase leading up.
“Trunks 2, tower zero,” he chuckled with a slight smirk. He then continued up the spiral steps, wondering about a wizard who had a lot of traps with less bite. So far he felt sourly disappointed as if he’d expected more. Tapion made a raspberry at the walls as he rushed to keep just in front of the knight.
“Don’t be too cocky,” Trunks warned his sprite. “Remember that last mission where you…”
That high pitched clanging like cymbals made Trunks stop his reprimand and ignore his sprite’s protests. He focused on his passage up past a floor where he saw an open doorway leading into a strange space with a multicolored pattern made of light on the center of the floor. Curious, he made his way across the smooth stone hewn floor and spotted the source. A stained glass window gleamed brightly with some source of light as bright as the sun behind it. Yet that was impossible given the small arrow slits in the windows he’d seen.
Light seemed to curl into liquid that rose up and engulfed his arm. Frowning, Trunks tugged at the colorful tendrils soaking into him. Around his legs twined the blues and reds while the reds and oranges tangled into his arms. Green and azure snared his neck with purple slithering over her lips and into his mouth. Worse, the tendrils stuck to each facet of his armor. That slow sucking sound didn’t help the situation either.
The sword he held slipped out of his gauntled grip. A second later he heard the hollow clang that reverberated in the grayish space. Through the mouthful of tentacle Trunks blurted out a muffled sound somewhere between an "mggghhh" which he would make when pulling off armor that was stuck, and a "grrrmmmm" sound he recalled uttering during an exasperating battle.
Ki. Focus it, chimed Tapion. In his mind he saw the red headed warrior whose cloak fluttered in a placid breeze. He could hear that strange series of notes given an airy voice through that ocarina. Surely if Tapion could live with half a demon sealed inside him, this was nothing.
Instances later he could breathe from a now emptied mouth tasting of a mint flavored eldritch slime. Licking his lips he inhaled deep sweet breaths of air. Both arms flailed in now empty space an instant before he pitched backwards. Immediate views forward inclined up into a chiseled ceiling shining through an orange glow. The first thing he heard beside his thumping heart, was a faint clink of glass on ceramic. Or ceramic on glass. Now his freed armor clad legs were gleaming in the same light from an ajar portal. Through his clothes his perspiration must be reaching his armor because he felt the chill from a breeze more acutely.
"This is not the least bit funny," Trunks hissed at Tapion who passed over him and merrily informed him he had no broken bones.
"Company," echoed a flesh and blood voice in a language accented in a slight lilt. Trunks rocked back on his shoulders and neck a bit to gain enough momentum to roll to his feet. Once upright he moved to the door with his dagger since the sword he wielded couldn't be found.
"Wizard, come with me now peacefully and I won't attack!" Trunks growled. His words faded away in the yellow glow of a luminary. No, not a luminary, nor a phostorch, but a flame caught in a beveled glass box with for sides, set high on an alcove. Insanity, because most luminaries were safer than flames!
Along one wall a tapestry glistened with silvery specs some of which moved. Piles of books stacked vertically on a mandale wooden cabinet. In front he saw a cloaked figure sitting hunched over an open tome. His fingers clenched a ceramic vessel. Not by a handle but with one finger on the bottom and the thumb on the brim. Tapion ducked into Trunks' pouch immediately.
"I’m right in the middle of adding my moon bridge observations. Vegeta and Namek are in conjunction this evening..." the voice informed him without any surprise.
"Now look here!" Trunks snapped, feet muffled by a thick carpet under them. "As Sir Trunks of the Briefs, son of Vegeta the prince of a...."
"Saiyans and ruler of the displaced kingdom. How is Prince Vegeta nowadays? Still training champions in Gravina School?" asked the voice of the dark haired young man. Now Sir Trunks had a proper look at him in profile he lost his voice for a second. He wore a scarlet magician’s hood that obscured most of his head except for the chin and jaw so Trunks could not see his eyes.
Till the magician lifted the tome to cover half his face and said, "Why not sit down? It’s cold outside."
"Haven't you heard a word I said? Get up and pack what you need! I'm on an official quest and I'm conscripting you!" Trunks snapped impatiently.
"People are in such a rush. Sit down and have some tea. I don't get many visitors," the magician reproved gently. Trunks felt his cheeks grow hot but wasn't sure if it was impatience or something else.
"Tea? Is that all you can think about at a time like this?" Trunks complained, while the room swallowed his words. Thanks to those tapestries and charts on the wall or the carpets.
Not looking up the magician interrupted, "Of course. Its tea time. With cinnamon rolls and dried cranberry bits."
"With all those traps I've passed this is all you have to say to me? The dark warder, the infinite stairs... The chasm? Do you have any idea what I went through to get here?" Trunks demanded as he grabbed the magician's shoulder, spun his chair and held a dagger to the magician’s neck.
"Volume two? Thanks I was looking for that for ages," replied the magician with a slight smile twitching the corners of his lips upward.
Now Trunks saw the book he gripped instead of the hilt of his favorite dagger, which now sat on the table by the magician’s hand. "By the moon bridge! You necromancer, stop playing games!"
"Which has the two primes visible," his opponent said, standing next to him once Trunks found himself sitting in the chair instead. Next to him in a second chair said the magician, hunched over his book again?
"Two primes... Yes I know my astrology just as well as the next Mage, but haven't you... Grhhh..." Trunks spluttered, flinging himself out of the chair which flew backwards and vanished.
"And the moon is in Rahu..." Commented the magician, lifting a brow.
"It’s in ketu! The second node!" Trunks corrected him. "Any astrologer would..."
"Most knights don't, unless they followed the dark moon through the two nodes it rook to get here," chuckled either his host or his opponent. Pushing back his hood he revealed ebony hair that stood straight up like black flames frozen in ice. A pale alabaster skinned face as smooth as his own captivated him. That nose, the mighty brow, and the shape of his mouth was almost hypnotic. Wait, was this a charm?
"Wait a minute, I'm not here to chat about the moon bridge, its five prime movers, or wandering celestial bodies! Stop messing around and get up! The king needs you and I’ll take you by force, Son Gohan Mazuko...” Trunks rasped.
"But I was just starting to enjoy the conversation. Not every knight knows a sixth level education in astrology, except if he's a pathfinder," Gohan protested, not looking up. One more he sipped his tea, but this time Trunks saw a few drops drip off his chin.
"Oh... Of course. I'll just help myself to some tea," Sir Trunks relented, though it was the last thing on his mind.
"Do you take it black? Or with milk?" Gohan asked, pouring a cup from a small clay pot gleaming with metallic glaze. Raku fired tea service, judging from the browns merging into coppers with a hint of red over the earthy clay? Simple but pretty, possibly.
Now facing his host or captor, Trunks glimpsed him better. Thick black graceful brows arched over dark onyx eyes that held the light of wisdom. Despite the serious shine they took on a playful gleam that annoyed Trunks. Was this all just a joke to the Mazuko magician? Over Gohan’s shoulder he caught sight of the painting of a green haired demon with pointed ears and a scarlet and purple turban with a hood much like the one Gohan now sported. The scarlet and gold robes he wore were embroidered with the magic symbols similar to what had been reported on Piccolo, the Demon King’s raiment.
“My master and mentor,” Gohan stated simply noticing his interest in the painting.
“The Demon King himself…” Trunks couldn’t resist saying.
Gohan rolled his eyes and frowned, fixing Trunks right in his gaze. “The Master was my father and uncle. What you consider a demon was a Namekian necromancer whose actions don’t have to be explained to anyone. People might argue that Prince Vegeta’s actions were ruthless…”
“He did what he had to in order to preserve what remained of his people before the tyranny of Frieza and the Tsurujin dynasty!” Trunks snapped.
“Both touched a nerve, I fear,” Gohan said, shifting his gaze. “That’s the past. Right now tea is far nicer to discuss… now I’ve a proper guest.”
“But I’m not a guest I’m…” Trunks began. His tanned skin was still boiling hot with anger over Gohan’s quick assessment of his father. Yet was he far off in saying the things he did about the Demon King Piccolo? Gohan had all but admitted the link between them. Was he a fool for admitting such personal information, or was it a warning not to speak ill of his Master? From the gleaming green aura that wreathed Gohan at that moment, he tensed, gripping the edge of his chair.
“You uncomfortable? I figured getting you a cushion was a good idea,” Gohan said, opening his tome and gesturing with one hand. He flickered a finger and Trunks levitated a foot off the seat wreathed in the green eldritch fire common to Mazuko. It unnerved him, not to be in control of his own abilities, almost like when his father did the same during a training session. King Vegeta, his father knew magics himself, and Trunks was always on his guard.
“Stop showing off,” Trunks grumbled, huffing at Gohan.
“Showing off? I’m just being a good host,” Gohan said, looking mildly insulted. “Mother always insisted that hospitality was the most important next to improving my mind.”
“Your mother? You mean Piccolo the Terrible was married?” Trunks asked, watching his host pass him a cup of tea. The mental image of someone mating with the green man was exotic to say the least. He’d heard that the Green Man was neither man nor woman, but held the form of a male. He wore a white turban, white robe with wide shoulders, and his dark gaze could strike fear into the hearts of anyone of lesser will.
“Shenron’s balls, no. Namekians have no need of marriage or mates,” said Gohan, with a chuckle that morphed from the previous horrified look.
“Is your mother…” began Trunks, then stopped at the sudden serious clouding in the dark eyes.
“Yes?” Gohan asked, looking to the side suddenly.
Trunks swallowed the lump in his throat. The last thing he wanted was an angered magician, and that menacing look Gohan gave him a few seconds ago chilled his blood and made his skin tingle. He said, “Never mind.”
“You seem to have relaxed a bit. It’s nice to have someone to talk to other than Icarus, and myself,” said Gohan, tilting his head to the side.
“Icarus?” asked Trunks, raising a brow, tensing once more. He could hear a low rumbling from the side of the chamber, where a doorway led to another set of stairs that seemed to lead upwards.
“I’ll introduce you later. Now, would you like sugar… wait I just have honey if that’s all right…” Gohan said after he stood up.
“Sure, I’ll have sugar, why the Dende not,” Trunks sighed. The knight put a hand over his face and grumbled to himself, willing himself to have the patience to wait for the right time. Gohan turned around so his back faced Trunks and gave him a limited view of the hood from behind and the clothes that hid whatever sort of figure he had. Mentally Trunks berated himself for thinking such possibilities.
Without a sound Trunks rose from his chair, tiptoed over, then grabbed his dagger from the table. He swept out his left arm around Gohan’s neck while he attempted to use the butt end of his dagger to hit a pressure point. Warm magician breathing against his chest dissolved into empty air rife with green smoke. Coughing Trunks backed up to see the silhouette of the magician turned towards him.
“Have a seat, I’m sorry it took so long, but this is homemade from the spring flowers. I’ve got the bees in an apiary in the bottom floor of my home…” Gohan casually continued, placing the dagger which once again was in his hand. Trunks growled seeing himself clutching a cup of tea once more.
“Dende fewmits on the moon bridge,” Trunks hissed under his breath. “Stop messing around.”
“I could ask you the same thing, Sir Trunks,” Gohan said, his brow wrinkled. “I didn’t take THAT long for the honey… the least you can say is thank you.”
“Thank you,” Trunks grumbled, taking a deep breath. He inhaled the scent of the tea and glanced into the cup as if he expected it to contain poison.
“Why would I poison my guest?” Gohan asked, sipping his own tea. Trunks bit his lip after he took a swig of the hot sweet mixture. It tingled his throat lightly but no more than any beverage that tasted of spring clover.
“Thank you for the tea, Magician Son, but I really need to talk to you about why I’m here! My grandfather, the King Briefs requests your assistance on a quest. The kingdom of Kanassa is experiencing a plague, and I have to bring you, kicking and screaming or willingly…”
“Why didn’t you just ask?” Gohan said shrugging.
“Ask? Ask a magician of the Mazuko?” Trunks replied, eyes wide enough to show off their gleaming surprise.
Gohan seemed perplexed, wrinkling his forehead cutely. His eyes opened enough that they showed a very attractive round shape that seemed far too innocent for a Mazuko Mage. “Isn’t that what people normally do when they need help? Ask?”
“Pardon me, but a man who’s reputed to rip stones out of the ground or freeze people on the way to his tower doesn’t strike me as someone who’d willingly help…” Trunks snorted with an edge of steel to his voice.
“If you say please, I may consider,” Gohan said with a slight twinkle in those dark inky black eyes.
Nostrils curling Trunks felt his teeth grind together. How dare this upstart sorcerer Mazuko presume to patronize him. Was he enjoying this humiliation? He hissed through his teeth, “Say please? Are you joking?”
Gohan waggled a finger in front of the knight’s nose, clicking his tongue as he said, “And ask very nicely and politely instead of presuming all sorts of things based on what legends say. They tend to embroider their own fears and hopes onto them. I’m sure they’re entertaining but when it comes to logic and reason, I’d thought a knight of the Capsule City would know better.”
“Wait a minute,” Trunks protested. He finished his tea and set it aside. “I didn’t mean…”
Gohan's dark eyes hardened to specks of gleaming coal. “What do you mean, Trunks? You don’t relax and enjoy my hospitality, you refuse my offer of tea and conversation, what am I supposed to think unless you’re simply an impatient boy who will throw a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants…”
“Tantrum? Me?” Trunks asked, eyes wide. “Shenron’s balls, no! And as for my age you don’t look much older than me.”
“25 summers,” Gohan said shrugging.
“21 winters!” Trunks replied. “Under the sky supported…”
“Reckoning by the passage of the primes through Ketu and Rahu this month to become 22 winters?” Gohan guessed.
“Another one of your Mazuko spells?” Trunks asked. “To know my birthday?”
“No, just the fact you said you knew about primes. That there were five, and that they passed through every 11 years and that it was important to you…” said Gohan, smiling a bit, rubbing the back of his neck.
Caught off guard, Trunks blinked at the frank admission. How long had Gohan lived here alone? Suddenly the idea of being cooped up in a tower by oneself for years seemed very sad. Just why was he sympathizing with a disciple of Demon King Piccolo the terrible?
“Mage Son of the Mazuko… what was it like… learning about the 21 zones when…”
“That was Master Piccolo’s father, Daimyo. My master was his son, Piccolo Ma Junior,” Gohan interrupted him. “Master Mazuko Lord of the Winds and master of Special Beam Cannon…”
“Special… beam… canon…” shuddered Trunks thinking of that. Then again his father Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans was the inventor of the Gallet Gun offensive spell. All of a sudden the traps in the tower didn’t seem all that horrible compared to the ones his father would have had outside the Capsule palace if Queen Bulma, his mother, had allowed it.
“No, you will not disintegrate people on the front lawn who gawk at your family,” she had said.
“Humph, spoilsport,” his father had replied, folding arms over his chest and turning his back.
“You can let your sprite out,” said Gohan with a glance at the knight’s pouch.
“Pardon?” Trunks asked, hating the blood rushing to his cheeks. Just why was his mind drifting off to places of night revelry?
Gohan quickly whisked away his teacup, asking, “Tea too hot?”
“Yes… no I mean…” Trunks spluttered. Merely two cubits from him Gohan still hovered with a concerned look in his dark eyes. At this proximity Trunks smelled nard and frankincense wafting from Gohan’s embroidered robes. He saw the circle superimposed upon the triangle on his belt, and recognized it from one of the tomes in his mother’s library.
Coming to his senses he asked, “Where’s my sword?”
“Icarus probably got ahold of it by now,” Gohan said tapping his chin.
“WHAT?” Trunks managed to yelp.
“Relax, he isn’t the kind that eats metal. He just eats some sorts of quartz jewels and rock so he can continue to breathe slime and low grade flames,” Gohan explained.
“Dragons are well and good but they’re hell to housebreak,” Trunks commented. “How’d you get to… wait… this isn’t the time to talk about…”
“Thanks Icarus,” Gohan said as he saw the pink and purple scaled dragon come running into the room.
Once the lavender haired knight caught sight of the gleaming metal object clenched between his jaws he cried, “HEY! That’s mine!”
Icarus dodged out of the way of Trunks' lunge. Iridescent salmon scales variegated to pink on his belly and coral on his back. Into his pouch Trunks reached, tugged out a gleaming piece of clear Quartz then chirped. Icarus stopped at the flash off the gem with transfixed eyes.
"Icarus, give me the sword and you get this tasty morsel," Trunks urged.
Cocking his head to one side Icarus still clutched the sword. He kept his gold eyes on Trunks before he glanced at Gohan. The Mazuko quietly watched with an amused glance. Trunks moved fluidly against the flame torchlight which cast a shadow across the room. For an instant Trunks stepped into it. Several mirror images formed from the shadows around Icarus.
A blur of images caused the dragon to spin about and weave around him. Three crystals flew up over his head. Metal didn't clang to the ground but was clenched in the hand of one of the images.
Gohan picked up his tome marked with the pentagram once he saw the gleam of Trunks sword. It passed through him with ease.
"Enough games! You're coming or else!" Trunks demanded with his sword pointed at the magician.
"You are an extremely rude guest. Why should I go anywhere with you? You've given me no reason," Gohan said unfazed by the sword aimed at him. “And the solution was proposed well in advance. Unless you enjoy playing hard to get.”
"Exasperating...." Trunks rasped. "I... We need your help..."
"Everyone needs help but that isn't a reason to agree when I've no incentive," Gohan replied with a mysterious smile that morphed into a serious stare.
