In Search of Auria (12 page)

My face was red as a tomato and Yang
couldn’t stop laughing. He could barely keep his eyes open. We
spent the whole afternoon there.

Before he had stopped talking properly, Yang
told me that this was his second time in town. When he first came,
he saw its deteriorating state and skipped it without stopping.
Afterwards, he reached a small military station beside a river. The
station controlled a drawbridge, the only way to cross. He said
they didn’t let him pass, so he returned to the town just to
receive a beating. The story reminded him the awful event. He
rubbed his swollen cheek, and I shook my head with a chuckle. And
then we drank some more. I told him how I fought the Lamia and
almost died. He choked on his drink and laughed in my face.

At this point I realized we had to stop
drinking. Plus, we needed to pay. The first drink was free, but I
don’t think the barkeep would be so generous. When I turned to
speak with Yang about it, he wasn’t sitting on his stool anymore. I
looked back and realized trouble had found us once again. The
soldiers that had bullied him before were at the pub, and their
captain was holding Yang by the neck.

“You weird looking worm,” the captain said,
“I thought we told you to get out of town!”

“Wo huei likai, wo huei likai!
¹
” shrieked Yang.

“What?” “Huh?”

The soldiers, the barkeep, me and the whole
bar got perplexed and turned heads by what came out of Yang’s
mouth. The fear of receiving a beating again made him pale. I
wanted to help him, but I had a little too many drinks. I couldn’t
defend a fly in my condition. I had to think of something quick.
Suddenly, one of the soldiers seized a mug from a weary farmer
beside him. He chugged the glorious liquid all for himself. And
that gave me an idea.

I got up from my stool and yelled drunk,
“You took our town! You took our dignity! And now, now you want to
take our booze?!”

All eyes in the building drew their gaze
upon the soldiers.

“We take what we want when we want it,” said
the captain. The town folk stood up from their tables and glared
with hatred.

Even though the soldiers were the symbol of
authority in the land, they were in a room full of desperate
people. Taking away the only thing that made them feel good at the
end of the day was not very wise.

“We don’t need to make a fuzz out of this,”
the captain continued, releasing Yang
from his
clutches and
trying to calm the folks, “we only take our
share of drinks, right?”

He pleaded, dissipating the tension in the
room. His persuasive tone calmed the villagers. I thought my plan
wasn’t going to play out, when unexpectedly…

“Not My Booze!” the barkeep yelled, jumping
from the counter behind me and landing on the captain.

“Fight! Fight!”

The town’s people ganged up on the soldiers,
but since they were pretty liquored up from an afternoon of
drinking, they soon started to fight among themselves.

“Yang, we need to get outta here!” I said as
I lifted him from the floor. He looked up and pointed at a glass
window. I droopily managed to carry him on my shoulder and boosted
to it. I jumped head first and smashed through the glass like a
raging bull. Outside on the ground, I thought I landed on a soft
cushion, only to find out I had landed on top of Yang. He got up
cursing in gibberish. We managed to get away, but soldiers soon
surrounded the Mead Pit to control the drunken brawl. I bet they
tried to find who started the trouble. But, we ran away and escaped
into the forest.

The next morning, when I woke up, I was
sitting on the ground. Not laying, sitting. When something strange
like that happens, it means I drank too much. Yang looked like an
octopus, lying twisted on some roots, with his head inside a shrub.
After a few minutes of yawning and composing ourselves, we were
ready to leave. I was looking at my map when Yang approached
me.

“Erik, I have something for you,” he
said.

He took a tiny square box out of his
traveling sack. It was about the size of his palm, black colored
with golden corners and a jade stone plate on top. The plate
portrayed a bird with spread wings, ready to take flight. It was
the same bird depicted in his clothing.

“This is family treasure for generations.
Bring luck and fortune.”

He handed the box to me. It was smooth and
surprisingly light. There must’ve been something very valuable
inside, but I just couldn’t accept it.

“Yang, I can’t take this. If it’s a family
treasure, it should stay with you.”

“If you had not taken me out of the bar,
there would be no more me. Please, accept.” He smiled and bowed his
head. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so I gratefully
accepted. I opened it, expecting to find a golden relic, a rare
gem, or maybe even some wooden artifact. But, an egg? A freaking
egg was his treasure? It was barely bigger than my thumb, securely
tucked inside a red cushion.

“Not just any egg,” expressed Yang, “the egg
of a Feng Huang.” He showed me his sleeve with the design of the
multicolored mythical bird. “In need of help, it will aid you.”

“But wait, you needed help earlier. How come
it didn’t appear?”

He smirked and shook his head, “It did not
have to. You were there.” He then turned around and walked
away.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“It is time for me to return home. I have
learned of these lands. There is the rich, there is the poor. There
is war and death. There is evil; evil that wants to spread. But, I
also learned that among chaos, there is still men with honor and
passion to do what is right.

“Good bye, courageous Erik, man of honor.
May you find what your heart seeks.”

He waved and left down the path. I waved
back and watched him until he disappeared around the bend. At his
leave, I looked at the square box and nodded. I put it in my bag
and continued my journey.

I started to see dark clouds loom on the
horizon, surrounding a colossal mountain range. I was so far inside
Balora now. And Auria was even farther. None of us would be here if
it wasn’t for our fight. Auria reacted harshly, but it was I who
couldn’t handle the rejection. I was such an idiot to behave that
way. I was angry. Angry at myself…

*

After arguing with Auria in the forest, Erik
was engulfed with anger. Immediately after returning to his camp,
he mounted a horse and dashed to the battlefield. Along the way,
all he could think of was of Auria’s rejection. It saddened him,
but it also fueled him with rage. He kicked the horse and galloped
faster.

The sky had darkened with grey clouds. The
ground was moist from a recent downpour. Reaching Somber Petalia, a
miaflorian camp had been set up at the village of Tally, on top of
Margot Plateau. Erik rode up to find the village destroyed and
burnt. Miaflorian army tents were scattered between the remains of
the houses. He saw the main tent near the plaza and darted to it.
When he entered, Raymond was inside with his men of the Eternal
Squadron. He was pointing at a map on a table, giving them
orders.

“What happened here?” Erik sternly asked.
Raymond and the other soldiers raised their heads, surprised to see
him there.

“Erik? Fancy seeing you here,” said Raymond.
“You finished wasting time in the forest?”

“I got into a dead end.”

“A dead end? Really? Well, that’s cute.
While you have been doing nothing at that damn forest, my loyal
soldiers and I have been sweating blood in the field!”

Raymond tried to scorn his friend, but he
noticed something different in him. Normally, with what Raymond had
just said, Erik would have replied by flinching his shoulders and
saying he was sorry. But now, he was standing still like a statue,
with harsh eyes locked on Raymond. It was strange and
intimidating.

“What happened here?” Erik repeated.

Raymond stared at him for a moment before
answering, “After your feat of stopping Sebastien, the men were
able to chase the balorians out of Tally. But, not before they
burned it to the ground. We took care of the fire and encamped
here. We were able to retake Margot Plateau and push the enemy
almost to the Dandy Overpass, but they received reinforcements and
regrouped. Ever since, we have been losing land and now we are the
ones in danger of losing Margot again.

“This morning they managed to reach the
north of the plateau, and a skirmish has broken out. But, I got a
plan to—”

Erik turned and walked away.

“Wait, Erik, the plan!”

He didn’t listen. Even though he was there
to serve, he specifically went there to vent his emotions. He
didn’t want to strategize or think about it. He needed to go to his
comfort zone and do what he did best: war.

He mounted his horse and left, passing by
other miaflorian soldiers. Their minds were tired and discouraged,
for the war had developed against them. But, when Erik sped right
by them, his presence boosted their spirits.

“Look! That was Belrose. Erik Belrose.”

“The one who took down ‘The Beast’?”

“Yes, and he’s going straight to
battle.”

“But alone? He’ll be killed!”

“Then we must summon bravery and fight,
too,” a soldier stated. He stood on a crate and addressed the rest,
“Master Erik is joining the battle. Spread the word, let’s join
him!”

Erik went beyond the boundries of the
village and reached the northern face of the plateau. The
vegetation of the upland had been damaged by the past battles.
Rusted arrows, lances and broken armor could be found lying on the
grass. And after a thousand meter run from the village, he saw
them; a horde of miaflorian infantry fleeing as a squadron of
balorian cavalry chased them. Erik galloped through and saw a pole
bearer running with Miaflore’s flag. Erik grasped the pole and held
it high towards the enemy.

The flag of Miaflore was half blue half
green; one color representing the skies and the other the earth.
And in its center was a ruby red pentagon with a head of a wolf,
representing the nucleus of the miaflorian kingdom, Pollen’s
Pentagon Castle.

“Don’t run!” Erik yelled, “Turn around and
fight!”

The soldiers stopped as they saw him
charging towards the enemy.

“That’s Belrose.” “He’s come for us!” “With
him we won’t lose!”

His determined stare, together with the flag
held high, gave the soldiers just what they needed; hope, might,
and a savior. The men turned around and followed him.

The balorian horsemen charged in an arrow
formation. They swung their swords forward, seeing the man with the
flag as their new target. Erik rode for the pair leading the
charge. Just before he passed between them, he turned the flagpole
sideways, slamming both of them on the chest. The pair crashed to
the ground, hugging their ribs and arms.

The rest of the balorian cavalry broke
formation and circled around him. Erik took out his sword and
started fighting them off, but they were too many for him. Luckily,
the men he had saved were rejoining the battle. And now that the
cavalry was not in a run, they managed to force the riders to the
ground. Erik jumped off his horse once the riders were thrown down,
for he wanted to vent his anger face to face. He prepared his
weapons and attacked. To his front, a rider was raising from the
grass after falling. Erik smashed his head with the shield and
stabbed him on the back. From his right, another came with a side
slash. Erik blocked it with his blade, kicked him on the gut and
crushed his temple with the blunt rim of his shield. A third one
approached form behind, but he didn’t even get a chance. Erik
turned and hurled the blade to his side. The pressure of the cut
was so deep, the sword jammed between the ribs. The victim moaned
in pain as Erik kicked him off. He was so full of strength, power,
might, and rage… it scared him.

“Damn it, Auria! Why?” he howled to the
skies. His fellow men did not understand his rant. Erik felt too
much pain in his heart to calm himself. He had turned his
disappointment into wrath, and rejection into hate. Right there, in
the briefness of that battle, he wasn’t the good and just Erik
Belrose anymore, but a vicious monster of war.

Most of the horsemen had been dealt with,
except for one who wouldn’t give in. He fought off every miaflorian
that got close to him. His left hand wielded a short battle axe;
and the other, a war hammer. The barrel helmet he wore covered his
face, except for a dark slit for the eyes and small holes for
breathing. A soldier ran at him with a slash. The balorian dodged,
swung the axe around his head and struck the soldier at the base of
the neck. Another came to avenge his fallen comrade, but before he
could even take the offensive, the balorian stepped in and smashed
the hammer on his face.

The barrel helmet warrior stood strong and
grand. The miaflorians stayed distant, except for Erik.

“Your invasion is for naught. You will not
succeed. Miaflore’s might will flatten Balora’s upheaval,” Erik
told him.

“Your words are filled with valor,” the
balorian replied, making a dull echo caused by the helmet. “Make
sure they carve every letter on your tombstone.”

Erik smirked, “Yes. It will also say ‘Erik
Belrose, the man that crushed Balora’.”

The balorian suddenly raised his head and
eyed Erik from top to bottom,

“Belrose, is it? I’ve heard your name among
the gossipers of my camp. You stopped Sebastien.”

“I will do the same to you.”

“Ha! Sebastien is just a lummox with a giant
body. I, on the other hand, am a refined combatant. My name is Raol
Harcourt, and I will smear the battleground with your bloody
heart.”