Elsewhere, far, far away ... (but not quite far enough)
Lina Inverse was eating breakfast.
If you've never seen her do it before ... good for you. Keep as far away as possible. It is a sight akin to piranhas that have just discovered the disemboweled cow in the river. Many of the people watching wondered if she even tasted the food, it went down so fast.
Her blond swordsman companion wasn't much better, piling it away like there was no tomorrow. Gourry Gabriev was his name, protecting Lina (not that she needed it) was his game.
Watching this with slightly wide eyes was the petite, unutterably cute princess of Sailroon. She had chipped in her quota of the dirty dishes, and now was content to watch the race, and burp occasionally.
The last vic ... ahem, companion, was sitting well in the shadows. This interested many of the villagers, or would have normally ... but he WAS travelling with Lina Inverse, so oddness was only expected. The way he kept his face covered WAS a trifle odd, but who knew? Maybe he had some terrible scar or deformity ...
"Lina, how long before we reach the temple?" Zelgadis asked quietly, slightly annoyed by the puppy dog looks Amelia insisted on shooting his way.
"I ... grph ... dunno ... mrph ... a week?" Lina hardly let the words interfere with her mouth action. Zelgadis sighed.
"Too long."
"Yeeeeesss!" Rezo number 4 was discovering to his joy that magic could be a sweet experience, indeed. "Shadow ... . Ball!" A globe of blue-black light flashed out from his hand, smashing a wooden post to shreds.
What a RUSH! He smiled, just the tiniest flick of his lips, but his eyes glittered with joy. I never knew magic could feel like this! His magic lessons had formerly been only a dull, aching torment. And then a sharp, biting torment when Rezo number 3 realized he hadn't been paying attention.
Let's try the others ... Shadow Ball was the easiest. But a few minutes later, he had Shadow Slipped across the room, and was trying out other neat spells ...
There aren't many combat spells in this thing. He realized, troubled. In fact, there were only three. Shadow Ball, which he had already tried, something called Night Flare, and the last one, right at the end of the book ...
Chaos Fire? Sounds ... interesting! As he perused it, his eyes got wider. Then he slammed the book shut.
That is enough magic for today. Let's go on to other things ... And he pulled his sword off its peg on the wall, and started his practices.
The moves came smoothly too him, as they always did. He took great pride in this, his greatest talent. So I can't work magic like Rezo. So what? He couldn't use a sword. He did fight very well with his staff, but the copy chose to overlook that, focused on his own ego gratification.
And I learned magic he couldn't! He attacked the training monsters gleefully, sending pieces flying.
And I'M not blind!
And I -
WHAP!
The staff connected brutally with the top of his head, right on the already tender lump. A loud yelp echoed through the practice room as he ended up with his chin on the floor, hair spread out over his face.
- Really hurt.
"What are you doing?" The soft, breathy voice came from behind him, and it was just like his own ... except for the coldness. Then a hand grabbed his arm, and hoisted him to his feet. "I told you to clean the west wing ... or have you forgotten?" Then he was looking into his creator's face.
The same thin, white face as his own ... but even more emotionless. Luminous gray eyes that usually burned intensely, permanently furious with the world. And him in particular. It was all very painful. His creator wore the exact same robes as Rezo the Red Priest ...
"No." He retorted sullenly. "I didn't forget. But I wanted to practice. You said if I got good enough I could go out ... " Rezo 3's face was still the usual bland mask, but his voice was tinged with derision that reddened his copies cheeks.
"Ha! Without magic, you're nothing. Just that stupid sword. Get down to the west wing ... " A nasty smile stretched across the copies face, and he had a hand up, holding a black attack globe, before Rezo 3 could finish.
I have magic now! "Shadow ... . Ball!" The blazing energy blazed right toward his creator's chest ... and exploded in a shower of completely useless sparks.
Ooops. He hadn't anticipated that. It was hard to tell, but he was willing to bet the look on Rezo 3's face wasn't amusement.
"Fire Ball!" The copy only had time to gulp before he was blasted right off his feet, clothing singing as he whammed hard into the opposite wall. Fortunately, he was intimately acquainted with head injuries, so his eyes crossed for only a split second, and he was up and about.
"Night ... Flare!" An arrow of utter blackness formed in his hands and then whistled towards his creator ...
"Flare Arrow!" The two magic's cancelled each other with a brutal, clashing noise, and then the fight was REALLY on.
Sword and staff clashed, sparks rising at the violent contact. The end result was not pretty ... as his sword snapped neatly in two.
OH ~Bleeep~!!! (Yes, boys and girls, we DO censor this program!)
WHAP!
When his eyes finally uncrossed, the copy found himself lying on the floor, a foot at his throat and a staff pointed at his head.
If he moved forward a bit I'd be able to see right up his ... Rezo 3 chose that moment to increase the pressure on the copy's throat, cutting off his irreverent musing with a gagging noise.
"Well well well." The soft voice was ... thoughtful? The copy peeked up nervously, sapphire blue eyes shaded by his lashes, and saw his creator staring at him ... . "Now, how did you do that?"
"Unh ... " He choked out, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. "My stunning good looks?"
WHAP!
I really wish he would STOP that ... Copy Rezo 4.0 thought muzzily. My skull isn't made of rock ... no matter what he thinks ... In fact, he was taking his former diagnosis of mild concussion, and working his way up to multiple skull fracture. Or at least that's what it felt like, anyway. What a life. What a pathetic, wretched, hopeless ...
"I asked you how you did that." Rezo repeated calmly, but his staff was going into position for another swing, the rings clinking.
"Book of ... magic ... Rezo couldn't ... understand ... " He wheezed out around the pressure on his neck, which abruptly stopped as Rezo 3 stepped back.
"Shadow magic ... " His eyes seemed glazed for a moment, unfocused, then they snapped back to him. "And you mastered it. You ... " His copy shivered, inching away, head down, purple hair hiding the fear on his face. I don't like that tone at all. Not even slightly.
"Well." His creator seemed to come back to himself, and bestowed on him an unnerving, tiny smile. "I might let you go out after all."
WHAT?!? He practically choked. THAT, he hadn't expected. "REALLY?" His tone was high, breathy, excited. "You will?!? Absolutely?!?"
"Why, certainly." Rezo 3 gestured calmly. "To spy upon Lina Inverse. Do you think you can manage that?" His tone turned slightly sour, but his copy was so excited, he didn't notice.
"Oh yes! How long shall I spy upon them?" He looked up, eyes full of an almost puppy like enthusiasm, and a corresponding lack of brains. But if Rezo 3 noticed that second part, he chose to ignore it.
"Until they reach an ancient temple. I'll give you more instructions there. Go get a new sword out of storage, any one you like, and get going. But," His creator raised one finger warningly. "Do not fail me, child."
"I won't, I promise!" And he was out the door before Rezo 3 could say another word.
I get to go out!
I get any sword I want!
And he forgot about the West wing!!!
The day was looking up.