Chapter CDXVI: The News Is Very Bad ~Lich

Lich stared into the bottom of a Kitilim Ojulee, a Tasnican cocktail made from various ingredients that required a list of well-rehearsed instructions followed to the letter to make, concentration along with timing and dexterity to make a good one, and slow enjoyment to make it a good one. Growing up in an inn had its perks: he had lost count of how many drinks he could mix.

He had a soft spot for making one of these, though, as it allowed him to clear his head. The difference between a good one and a bad one was often how many drops of sangbarak you put in it, whether or not you had diluted it with enough aluponatyso between each pour of Tharagnesen Onera, and left it to sit for just the right amount of time after adding the tunlek jeren while you quickly made up a Tarakekeji with extra pegynak and stirred that exactly five times before adding. If he got it right, it provided him with a long enjoyable drink that changed flavours delicately as he went through it, yet did not go to his head so long as he did not overdo the pukarakechi.

This one, though, was not one of his better efforts. He decided he hadn’t put in enough tarukalapeste, a mistake any inexperienced bartender would make, which spoiled a lot of the hard work. Nevertheless, he drank it slowly and let the alcohol dull the cold hard edge of what life was serving up. It was a nice, shiny, sparkly knife with a big red bow on the handle.

G’lirer was a good thing; he had to admit he looked forward to the challenges, but not all of them. Leadership was a daunting task, especially of people he did not know too well and of a culture that he only knew about through studying some history – and even that had changed – but what was worse was that the Third Vow would apply even there: he was a Guardian wherever his feet took him, so he would have to front up to various Assemblies and there was no easy way to get home from there.

Then there was Ark. While Vector and Naaro were working on getting him home as he sat there, the mood between the two of them was lukewarm at best. Being led around by his awakened Spear was a troubling sign.

And now, there was Multehx. It was not supposed to be like this. He was supposed to wake up and tell Lich everything, not be possessed by some entity that valued stupid, pointless amusement over everyone’s salvation. What it had said still stung: he was part of Multehx all along. He wasn’t supposed to be like that. Sure, his adopted “brother” had a sense of humour that seemed rather odd at times, but it wasn’t supposed to be manifest like this. Maybe that was what his cousin didn’t want him to know; it did not seem worth pursuing now.

He took the last swig of the now fruity (yet a bit too sour) drink and got up. Everyone had wisely left him alone without his needing to ask, even Dakota, although Lich knew the reporter was observing him and making casual notes. His father came down to the end of the bar to make sure that his son’s one remained at that number; even though Lich considered himself above getting drunk, he needed a safety catch sometimes. He said nothing as he let his mug be taken out of his hands: thanks to his concoction, his normally awash emotions were muted except for pensive determination. Nase had tried to tell him something, so he had to find out what it was. There were too many ears around here to call him and the phone line was insecure, so he would have to go to his friend’s place, the Water Palace, in person. He headed towards the door, and the entourage started: his cousin, followed by the reporter. Lich stopped and shook his head. This was supposed to be a private meeting.

After a tense conversation with Dakota, Lich started to make for the door again, and paused partway there as he remembered his predicament: Malachai had his Pokémon, which meant he had no Nessie to go straight to the Water Palace with. With a curse under his breath and a quick worry about them, he beckoned to Sixtyfourhundred and headed towards his room upstairs, explaining what was wrong. Kippo itself was in a bad location for a Cannon to be set up, so this meant that he had to get to the station, wait for a train, go north, go to the Cannon, wait his turn, and then get into the Water Palace without being caught by the media. He needed a disguise. So, while his Mana Storage provided for many of his tools he did not like to be caught without, he liked to keep some things out of it that he only used rarely, such as his cloak. It was a trusty old friend, as it could cover him except for his nose; it had been used in many places, including the middle of the hostile Koopahari.

Once Lich got to the top of the stairs, one of the doors was rattling. “Room Fourteen’s a bit noisy,” he noted to Sixtyfourhundred with a shrug.

“Hmm,” the warrior god replied, “Isn’t that Hl’garng’s room?”

“Hl’garng!” Lich dashed to the door and knocked upon it. “Hl’garng! It’s me. Are you alright in there?”

“Li-ch! Why hast thou imprisoned me?” he demanded, the door rattling again. “The portal hath disappeared!”

Lich slapped his hand to his face and shook his head in self-derision.

“Let me guess…he doesn’t know how to use a doorknob?” his cousin asked.

“I’m sorry,” Lich called, “I didn’t tell you when I should have. I take these things for granted. Do you see the gold-coloured metal sticking out? It should be near your waist.”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Wrap your hand around it, hold on to it, and then twist your wrist to the right.”

There was silence for a moment, followed by a click.

“Now gently pull it towards you.”

The door opened. “Thanks be to Luna, Li-ch,” Hl’garng answered as he appeared, frowning. “There be a strange force on the other portal: it letteth me see through it, but it letteth me not move through it.”

“That is called glass, Hl’garng. And this,” he knocked, “is called a door. You use that metal device called a doorknob to get through. I am deeply sorry I did not tell you earlier; I forgot G’lirer doesn’t have these things and I have lived with them all of my life.”

“That is understandable,” Hl’garng answered, although with a hint of reluctance in his voice. He then looked to Sixtyfourhundred and recognised him with a small gasp. “Please forgive thy humble servant his rudeness when thou hast come to my aid,” he spoke, bowing down low. “I am truly sorry, great one.”

“Um…yeah, okay…” he answered, somewhat unsurely.

“Thank you, great one. Many praises be to you.” He turned to Lich. “I wish to eat and quench my thirst, Li-ch.”

“Alright; tell you what…I’ll make up my bit of wrongdoing to you.” His wallet appeared in his hand and he rummaged through it. “My mother makes really good Fried Wriggler Balls – it’s a taste of the Home Lands.” He withdrew a five-Lucre note and returned his wallet to storage. “Now this,” he took Hl’garng’s hand and put the note in it, “is called money. You give money to people on this world so that you can get something in return. What you need to do is to go down the stairs,” he pointed towards them, “and ask my mother for Fried Wriggler Balls and a glass of Yoshi-ade. Then, you will need to give this to my mother so that she will cook and give you food. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Li-ch. I ask thy mother for Fried Wriggler Balls and a glass of Yoshi-ade, and then I give her this money,” Hl’garng repeated.

“Great. I’m going to go out and see a friend of mine, so I should be back somewhere around the middle of the day or just after it. I will see you then, Hl’garng.”

“Indeed, Li-ch,” Hl’garng stated, and started to make his way downstairs.

Lich continued on his way to his room, his cousin in tow. “‘I’?” he asked him. “But you said ‘we’.”

“You go on down and pretend to wait near the front door for me. I’m going to sneak out the back; if Dakota leaves also, try to stop him.”

“Okay,” Sixtyfourhundred nodded.

“Thanks,” he said as he reached his door. “I’ll make it up to you. As I said, I should be back sometime around noon, possibly a bit later. It just depends on how things go. Okay?”

His cousin nodded.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“See you.”

Lich entered and went to a wardrobe, opened it, pushed aside some of his older clothes and pulled his cloak off its hanger. He gave it a quick once-over to check it was still okay, then turned and kicked the door shut behind him as he trotted over to his mirror. Through a thin layer of dust, he watched himself put it on and adjust his hair so none appeared outside the hood. He frowned as he saw the zinc cream on his nose: a morning routine now gone to waste. With a reluctant sigh, he left his room and moved to his bathroom, and washed off the cream with some soap. He hated having to wash his trademark off: apart from being decorative, it helped his vision for throwing the Boomerang.

Stepping back into his room and with a final check in the mirror, he pulled the cloak tight and opened the hall doorway. With his cousin gone and with no-one coming, he stepped out into it and pulled the door shut. He walked casually to the stairs, then pressed his back against the wall adjacent to it, felt for any presences nearby, and satisfied there were none, he started his descent.

Reaching the second-bottom step, he paused again and checked for more presences, particularly those who could look in the door to the stairs from the bar, to his right. Finding none, he took the last two steps, crossed to the other wall and turned against it in one graceful movement. He sidled along the wall, staying out of view of the bar, and then opened a door beside him.

Turning around to it, he looked into the private lounge area where his mother sat watching television while mending some clothes in her lap. She looked up at him expectantly.

“I’m going to the Water Palace to see Nase,” he announced. “I’ll be back around lunchtime.”

She nodded, taking in the cloak, and spoke worriedly, “Take care.”

“Popo, I always do,” Lich smiled, and closed the door.

Lich slipped out the rattly back door of the Navel Falls View into its garden. A gravel path lined with Rentars led to a squeaky old metal gate at the other end. While his escape route was not necessarily the quietest to those nearby, it was the least public as it led out into a back lane. After tip-toeing catlike across the gravel, he undid the gate’s catch. It let out a mournful cry as it was pulled back. He then pushed the gate open, releasing an ascending squeak, before slipping out between it and the gatepost, closing it with a descending squeak and another mournful cry and clang.

With a wince, he turned and started to walk down the lane. No-one else was in it at the time, but he could see some people walking along the more major street crossing it ahead. His guise was supposed to be that of a tourist, but he knew that if he walked purposefully across the street, the villagers would recognise him for who he was. If he lingered too long as he pretended to take in the view, he could be recognised.

A brainwave struck as he remembered his train timetable in his Storage. He could linger at the corner and pretend to read it while he actually “read” the street. He got it out, since Yoshies who knew Mana Storage were too bizarre, and walked down the lane, opening it up and lifting it as he got to the street.

He stopped on the corner, holding it up to his face to hide his nose, with only his fingers visible on the other side of the sheet of paper. Lich closed his eyes and sensed the presences in the street and down it to the edge of the square to his left. Concentrating to increase the distance he was sensing, he felt that Multehxio had left his spot, but something more alarming had just dropped into the green via cannon: cameramen with Mana-powered television cameras.

With a grunt, he opened his eyes, which fell upon a row of the timetable marked “Kippo”. He looked up at the town hall’s clock, and then back at the timetable. With a curse-word and the sound of the approaching train’s deceleration appearing in the background, Lich swept aside his act and ran for the station, which was just behind the town hall. His travel brought him past the side of the inn and through a corner of the square, noticing his hood fly back. He winced as a sudden eager shout of “Syoro von Kippo!” came from the green.

Turning the corner and going past the town hall, he had to cross the tracks to get onto the platform. The glow of a yellow warning light started by the tracks at the crossing, meaning that safety barriers were going to rise up out of the pavement and trap him in a dead-end with reporters bearing down on him. Putting on a burst of speed, he managed to leap over the barriers as they began to rise, just as the train entered the platform at the other end and the automated announcement sounded. The reporters would be held at bay at the crossing, but if he did not catch this train, they had a whole half-hour to walk up and talk to him. He exchanged his timetable for his wallet as he turned and climbed the ramp to the platform, frantically rummaging through his change for enough money for the ticket machine. His fingers danced over the buttons as he requested his ticket, then he quickly thumbed the money into the machine as the train’s doors opened. With an exasperated “Come on, come on!” he waited for the ticket to be printed and jump into its slot. Once done, he picked it up and waved it past the special reader which would disengage a magic barrier before him, just as the guard’s “safe-to-go” beeper rang out. With the barrier down, he put his hood back up, ran through it and jumped for the nearest windowed door, which closed around his leg. The safety mechanism caught and it hissed back open; he leapt in, the door closing fully two seconds after him.

Panting for breath, he gripped the cage-like bar-structure before him as the train took off with a whirr across the crossing, his back turned to the media throng at the barriers. He sighed with relief, and then went to sit on a nearby seat, still panting. The carriage was empty except for a group of young women up the other end who were too busy chatting amongst themselves to notice him. He leaned back against the carriage’s wall and sighed again. He had made it.

As the adrenaline cleared from his blood, he realised that the reporters would be on their mobile telephones, calling other reporters who would try to track him down. Most likely, they would be running to the nearest Cannon Travel Centre right now to be shot to the upper rim of Gaia’s Navel where Kippo’s Centre was. The only way to beat them would be to play their game and pay the hefty priority shot fee and be blasted ahead of the queue.

A few minutes after departing Kippo, the train went along the upper rim. Lich never got tired of looking across at the many waterfalls and down into the crater, down to where the caves leading to the Dwarf Village and eventually to the Underground Palace were. He frowned as he remembered Nase’s warning that some Guardians supported Theutes and others supported Zulan; who did the Guardian of the Underground Palace support?

Soon, they entered a tunnel and the view was gone. The train slowed and the automated announcement declared that they were arriving at Gaia’s Navel Station. Lich got up and moved to the door, pushed a button so the doors would open and waited for the train to stop. The tunnel ended and soon they were pulling to a halt. The doors opened and Lich darted out. Fortunately, he was right next to the station’s entry, so he quickly left the station and entered a large corridor. To his right was the Travel Centre. He turned, threw the train ticket in a nearby bin and walked up to the desk where a middle-aged man sat in the green uniform of the Cannon Travel Network, the Paralomuta Vudaebalankaka.

“Priority to the Water Palace,” Lich requested, withdrawing his wallet again.

The ticket seller said nothing as he took in Lich’s figure and pressed some buttons. “One priority ahead of you; is that alright?” he asked.

“When are they leaving?” Lich replied.

“Hey, aren’t you–” the man started, tilting his head.

“When are they leaving?” Lich growled.

“Two minutes,” he replied, getting back to business.

He looked over his shoulder, seeing no-one. “Yeah, priority’s fine.”

“Eight hundred Lucre.”

“Eight hundred?!” Lich asked, flabbergasted. “Since when has the Paralomuta quadrupled its prices?”

“This morning,” the man replied. “No traffic to Kakkara means we have to make up our losses elsewhere. And, because of,” his voice lowered, “risky customers.”

Lich sighed and produced a card. He pressed it against a reader until it beeped and then punched in his code on its keypad. A few seconds later, it beeped happily, and Lich was eight hundred Lucre poorer. A ticket was printed up.

“That priority has just left; you’re up now,” the ticket seller reported, handing him the ticket. “Thank you for travelling with–”

Lich had already gone into the waiting area without thanks, replacing the card and returning his wallet. A computerised voice declared his ticket-number ready as soon as he entered; he walked around the waiting room’s perimeter, noting a number of families and business travellers that he was inconveniencing out of the corner of his eye. Passing through the automatic doors, he entered the security checkpoint. He pulled aside part of his cloak to show the Boomerang as he withdrew an official Guardian document from his Storage and presented it to a security guard, who read it over.

“Yes, Syoro von Kippo,” he grunted, handing it back. “Is it true that–”

By then, Lich had passed around the metal detector and the Storage Inspection machine, and was going through the next set of doors out to the open air and the cannon. Two minutes later, he was soaring through the air to the Water Palace.

Sonao Endigo, the previous Guardian of the Water Palace, had modified parts of his abode to his liking. Perhaps the most notable of his changes was the bridge which crossed the river to the Water Palace, since he sympathised with his visitors who did not want to get wet at the ford. It had an added bonus in that it could be defended, and as Lich crossed the bridge, he counted eight beefy men guarding the Palace end of it, some dressed in the robes of Palace acolytes, while the others were Pandoran soldiers.

Normally, there would be two acolyte guards to either side of the door, but it seemed that Nase had been shocked enough by the incident to increase his security, or someone else had done it for them. He lowered the hood and approached them.

“Stop right there, please,” an acolyte guard announced as he came close.

Lich did as was commanded.

“The Water Palace is currently closed to all persons except for permitted officials and permitted media,” the guard spoke. “Visitors and tourists are not allowed to enter.”

“Nase knows who I am,” Lich spoke.

“That’s what everyone says.”

Lich looked at the guards. The soldiers were carrying high-powered rifles quite visibly, while the acolytes probably had something hidden under their cloaks if they were not relying solely on their magic. He sighed and produced the official document again and handed it to the guard. He pulled the cloak away and revealed the Cyan Arc, to the response of the guns being lowered and pointed at him.

“Whoa! I’m not going to shoot anyone, by Drepatos!” Lich cried, raising his hands defensively.

“We are just taking the necessary precautions, Syoro von Kippo,” the guard explained in an unfriendly tone, handing the document back. “Any Guardian’s alliance is questionable.”

“Nase trusts me,” Lich spoke flatly.

“That’s what everyone says.”

Lich sighed, annoyed.

“Now, I will have to get in touch with Syoro Porami and ask him if he will let you enter,” the guard explained.

“You won’t need to, Anogo,” Nase’s voice came from a speaker mounted beside the door. “He’s alright. Let him through. Don’t stop him again.”

Lich replaced the document and huffed as the guards parted and let him through. He opened one of the Palace’s heavy doors and slipped inside.

The Palace had been cleaned since Nictem and NecronimusII came, and as he walked through the foyer, activity seemed relatively back to normal, with acolytes walking about purposefully through it as they carried out their business. Lich ascended the stairs at the far end of the room and entered the vast expanse of the platform room. With a sigh at his needing to do it, he stepped on a nearby green switch that became red as it sank into the floor. A flight of white stairs rocketed out from beneath him, up to another platform before him, soaring over the black abyss. He climbed them and crossed another of Endigo’s little creations over the reflection pool: a transparent blue Mana-charged bridge. He reached the other side and climbed another set of stairs to where the ziggurat holding the Mana Seed lay. Lich turned left past it and entered a new and expansive part of the Palace after crossing a small bridge, where Nase and some acolytes had some private quarters, and Nase’s office.

“Syoro Porami’s in there,” an acolyte announced as she emerged from the first doorway on the right and walked past him.

The Yoshi nodded his thanks and made his way to the doorway. It was open, so he leant in and knocked twice on the door.

The room was quite large, dominated by a long wooden table in the middle of it lined with chairs. A pile of newspapers sat at the far end. The monotony of the blue and white brick walls was broken by pictures of various subjects. Lich recognised a panoramic photo of Yoshiville he had given Nase for a birthday once; Nase was now standing before it up the other end of the room at the far end of the table, his back turned to him. “Door,” Nase requested.

Lich entered and closed it behind him. “Parano. It’s good to see you in the flesh again, Nase.”

Nase emitted a quick laugh, but did not turn around. Lich frowned for a moment and approached his end of the table. “Are you alright?”

The Guardian of the Water Palace sighed and turned around, his face weary. “I take it you saw the news this morning?” he asked.

“No, come to think of it,” Lich replied after a moment’s thought. “I had matters to attend to and on my way here I never got a chance to get one.”

Nase looked sourly at Lich. “You shouldn’t have gone home. I tried to tell you.”

He picked up a copy of the Togo Pandora from his end of the table, and threw it into the spot before Lich. The Yoshi’s eyes widened and he picked it up immediately, reading the first page.

CYAN ARC TARNISHED

Guardian suspected of involvement

“Tarnished? Involvement? What is this, Nase?”

“Read on,” the Guardian replied, sadly.

Zulan Tipsot, the self-proclaimed Guardian of the Fire Palace, may have enlisted the help of another fellow Guardian to secure his power in Kakkara, possibly through the Mana Sword.

The Guardian of the Cyan Arc, Dyluck Yoshi von Kippo, professed his knowledge of the recent events in the desert as he arrived home yesterday since the last Assembly meeting.

“Report on the situation in the Fire Palace,” he said.

When asked by reporters as to where he had been since the meeting, he claimed that he was fulfilling his Guardian duties and other social commitments within the Yoshi community.

However, this may not be the case.

Syo. von Kippo, author of the controversial Light and Metaphor, is suspected of being part of a plot to steal the Mana Sword and take it off Fa’Diel, but the reason before now has been unclear. The theft, once believed to be part of a personal gain of power, now appears to be on the orders of Tipsot.

“I don’t believe this,” Lich snarled. “They think I’m working for Zulan?!”

“It gets worse,” Nase sighed.

“ I didn’t take it (the Sword),” Syo. von Kippo claims.

Whilst he denies any involvement with the self-imposed dictator of Kakkara “apart from formalities at the Assembly”, questions still remain as to his whereabouts between his brother’s ordination and prior to the attack.

Given Syo. von Kippo’s claims, it is now believed that he may have been seeing contacts, namely the “demons” who stole the Mana Sword.

However, Head of TEHP Derrilon Sunage offered a different view in a press conference last night, suggesting that the demons might have actually been clever disguises created by the Guardian of the Cyan Arc and his brother, the Guardian of the Ebony Lance, Ark Yoshi von Kippo.

“Two demons, two von Kippos; we just have to see whether or not two plus two makes four in this case,” he said.

Lich slammed the paper down. “I refuse to read any more of this…this…this gulto!” he snarled. “Honestly, does everyone think I’m with the enemy, even the TEHP?”

“Yes,” Nase nodded regretfully, before throwing him another newspaper.

“The Onera?” Lich asked. “Seriously, who reads a trashy paper such as the Onera?”

A banner stretched across the top of the front page: Now read by 20% of all Pandorans!

He looked down the page:

“I STAND WITH THE GUARDIAN OF THE WATER PALACE”

“Oh, no,” Lich groaned. “They think you’re part of this?”

“You missed an interview by five minutes, thank Undine,” Nase sighed. “They know I was visited by those…what were they again?”

“Twilighters?” Lich suggested.

“Yeah, them. I’ll save you from reading tomorrow’s edition and say that the Onera thinks you and Ark bashed me up.”

Lich rolled his eyes. “Isn’t reality complicated enough without them fabricating stories?” he groaned.

“Give people what they want to hear and get money in return,” Nase sighed with a shrug. “It’s how they all work. The waters of the world provide me news. It’s just a really bad side-effect that I have to deal with the scum at its edge.”

Lich nodded sagely.

“Where is Ark, by the way?” Nase asked. “He’s usually with you.”

It was Lich’s turn to emit a sigh. “Long story short: he’s been kidnapped.”

Nase’s weary face turned into one of worry as he strode along the table. “Kidnapped? By whom?”

“Some big robot that gatecrashed my ceremony on G’lirer,” Lich sighed. “I’ve got some capable friends looking for him. Apparently he was on the other side of the planet. They’ll be coming to Kippo when they’ve got him, flying in on a spacecraft above the Lofties.”

“The Lofties? That mightn’t be so good,” Nase warned.

“Why not?” Lich asked, taken aback.

“There’s some strange things going on there. I read the waters just before the interview, but I couldn’t get away to tell anyone yet. You’re the first to know.”

“What sort of things?”

“Dark. I don’t think it’s Shade or Lerinpe doing something, though. I’m not entirely sure wha–”

Bells sounded throughout the Palace. Nase emitted a swearword in Empiretongue and ran into his nearby office. Lich followed as Nase inspected some security monitors. He turned to look at one which was attracting the most attention, seeing a few animated suits of armour march towards the bridge outside.

“Mechna Knights,” Lich spoke quietly.

“What?” Nase asked as he busily inspected other monitors.

“They’re with them, Nase. Them.”

Nase’s eyes widened, then he grabbed a nearby microphone. “Full scale attack!” he bellowed into it. “Everyone to their stations! This is not a drill! Repeat! This is not a drill! Stairways deactivating in thirty seconds! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see acolytes and soldiers rush about on the other monitors, but his attention was fixed on a man nearby, trying to look inconspicuous by hiding behind a tree, resting. He had a crest of spiky shock yellow hair crowning a rather snazzy outfit. Lich peered closer and took in more of his features and his mouth widened. He knew those gloves and that face, or a lack thereof.

“Hegeratu!” he exclaimed. “Highland was with him! And I…gragh! How could I be so stupid!”

“Three! Two! One!” Nase bellowed as he pressed his hand against a pad on the desk. “Stairways deactivating…now!” He flicked a switch and all of the automatic stairways withdrew, fortunately with no-one on them. “I will be present shortly!” He turned to Lich. “What was that?”

Lich heaved with anger. “I gave a very powerful, evil, dark weapon to the enemy! Perhaps the most evil weapon in the multiverse!”

“No time to worry about that, now!” Nase exclaimed, grabbing his hand. “Come on!”