Storm Clouds II Ch. 08

The sun, barely risen, was obscured behind the thick greenery of the trees and the completely overcast sky.  Nemo felt grateful for the thin visibility, though he still found himself studying the forest around them with unease.  They’d come some distance from the camp, but he could not shake the dread that Alvovz was someplace near.

Please, he thought in desperation, if there is any benevolence in this world, please let us figure out what to do about this crisis before everything goes to hell.

Nearby, Artemis also looked for hints of eavesdroppers in the leaves and branches of the forest.  Ivan studied her face.

“What’s going on, Artemis?”  he inquired.  “What’s happening?”

Artemis met the young Vulpix’s gaze. He’d been groggy when they’d awoken him early that morning, but now his face shone with attention.

“Ivan, Nemo and I have decided that it’s time for you to know some things,” she said.  “Remember those questions you had about whether we and your parents had been on adventures before?”

Ivan nodded excitedly, not daring to interrupt her now that the knowledge he’d been eager for was so close.

“Well, here it goes.”  Artemis cleared her throat and gave a final, last-second search before continuing.

“Nemo and I—and all our friends from Fox Creek—this place is our home.  We’re pokemon, creatures from the world we’re in right now…a world distinct from the one you were born in.”

“That’s why I could never find any other animals like you!” Ivan said.  “I was sure ever since we got here that this world was different—and I was right!”

“That’s correct.”

“But wait…” said Ivan, his exuberance fading.  “If that’s true…how did you end up living with my dad and mom?”

Nemo spoke in answer.  “Nineteen years ago, an accident flung your parents from the safety of their world into the unknown variable that was ours.”  The Seadra’s voice trembled with memory. “Your dad adapted somewhat quickly and became a pokemon trainer, but Missy was less fortunate—she became a pokemon.”

“Like me?” Ivan asked.

“No.  She was a separate species, called ‘Eevee’—yours is known as ‘Vulpix.’  And unlike you, she couldn’t change back and forth at will; she was stuck.”

Ivan tried to wrap his mind around the thought of being bound to his pokemon form forever.  I like it, he thought.  There’s lots of good things about this body.  But to stop being able to turn human forever…?

“She really was?” he asked.  “But—”

“Hold on,” Nemo gently interrupted.  “We’re not done.  Your father tried to find a way home, but on the way all of us were entangled in a plot involving Team Rocket.”

“Those are the guys Alvovz mentioned last night?”

“Yes,” the Seadra replied.  “I won’t go into all the details, but we thought that after we beat the main boss, Giovanni, our fight was over.  We were wrong.  Giovanni had a lackey, Masque, who was more dangerous than his boss all along.  Masque faked his imprisonment and eventually arrived in your parents’ dimension, where he attacked Fox Creek with an army of pokemon.

“It was horrible, Ivan…lots of people died.  We fought back and your mother engineered Masque’s death.  The wounds she received during the fighting triggered her transformation into the body she has now.”

“Masque?” Ivan said, turning the unfamiliar word over in his mouth.  “That’s not really his name, is it?”

“It was an alias,” replied the Seadra.  “A fake name people go by to hide their real identities.  His came from the white mask he always wore over his face.”

“But how did you get back home from this place?  And how did he show up?”

“Do you remember that city that Ripple and Emily talk about?  Lavender Town?”  Artemis suggested.  “There’s a great tower situated in it—and at the top are relics of an ancient time.  We were able to use those to cross planes and return to your home world.  Masque followed us through the same way—”

“You made a deal about that tower!”  Ivan interrupted.  “I remember, Nemo—after we help Ripple and Emily they’ll show us to the top of that tower!  You want to go home the same way!”

“Not so loud!”  the Seadra hushed, eyes erratically searching the surrounding trees.  “This is all secret, Ivan, so please keep your voice down.  But yes, you’re right, that’s how we’ll get back.”

“Wait…” Ivan said, cogs turning in his mind.  “This adventure you all had…when was it?”

“It…took place long before you were born,” Artemis offered with hesitation.

“How long?”

“Eleven years.”

I’m eight, and that was eleven years before.  Eight plus eleven…eight plus eleven… Ivan focused, tallying the numbers in his mind. That means…nineteen years.

“That was nineteen years ago, right?”  Ivan inquired.

The other two pokemon said nothing.

“Nineteen years ago…a man wearing a mask…and he came to our home using a place in Lavender Town…”

Ivan fixed Nemo and Artemis with a square gaze.  “That man who attacked Fox Creek was Alvovz’s brother, wasn’t he?”

His companions exchanged a long look.

“We think so, yes,” Artemis finally said.

“That means my mom killed him,” Ivan whispered.  “And…and not only did she make him die, but Alvovz made a promise to kill his brother’s killer.  Alvovz is gonna try to kill my mom.”

“Hey…hey, come here…” Artemis said soothingly.  She approached Ivan for a hug, but the Vulpix leapt back, glaring at her.

“Stop it!  Stop pretending everything’s all right—stop acting like you can fix everything with a hug!”  he said, tears of anger welling in his eyes.  “You can’t!  What should I do now?!  One of my friends wants to kill my mom!  Alvovz saved my life, from the Feraligatr and from those spiders too—I can’t just start hating him!”

“Ivan,” Nemo said soothingly.  “Ivan, listen, we’re sorry, really.  We have no control over this.  But Alvovz doesn’t know any of this.  He doesn’t know his brother’s identity, or that he’s dead—he doesn’t know who killed him.  He doesn’t even know about the myriad worlds!”

“Don’t I?”

The three pokemon turned their heads in unison, each with whiplash speed.  Alvovz stood perhaps a dozen feet away at the glade’s edge.

The wind blew heavily through the trees now, and above the overcast morning had gradually darkened.   Storm clouds churned, and the heavy scent indicated that the sky was pregnant with soon-to-be rain.

As Alvovz slowly approached the three pokemon, Ivan could not help but notice the delicate silence as the swordsman walked.  Even with my special senses, I can barely hear the steps he’s taking, he realized.  He doesn’t even act like moving that quietly is hard; it’s not a big deal to him.  And I bet that worn green coat was a big help when he hid in the trees.

Ivan also noted the streaks of smeared dirt across Alvovz’s skin and clothing.  I get it, he realized.  Not only can’t I hear him, but I can’t  smell him either…he used the dirt to hide his scent.

Smart.  His brother was supposed to be smart, too.

Alvovz stopped a few steps from the pokemon and stared down at them impassively.

“How long were you there?!” Nemo demanded.

“For all of it,” Alvovz replied.  “By the time you woke Ivan I was already tailing you.”  The man turned to Artemis; electricity arced between the nodes on her head as she leered at him in apprehension.

“Calm yourself,” he said levelly.  “Does my sword look unsheathed to you?”

Artemis slowly allowed the sparks to die away.

“Now then,” Alvovz continued, “was all of that true?”

There was no answer.

“It appears so,” he said.

He sounds so calm; there’s no hint of anger in his voice, Ivan thought.  Then why am I so scared?

“My suspicions were on the money after all,” Alvovz said softly.  “I thought you knew something about Mugann…that you were hiding something from me.”

“Listen to me,” Artemis said, her wavering voice betraying her attempt at firmness.  “Masque—I mean, Mugann, he…he killed so many people.  Ruined so many lives, changed them forever.  Even now, even two decades later, our town still hurts.  You think those stories you told last night were bad?!  He was so much more than that.  He was so much worse.  Ivan’s mother didn’t kill him for no reason.  He had to die, for everyone’s sake!”

“Quiet!” Alvovz snarled. “That’s my family you’re talking about!”  His hands were balled into fists; they trembled as he spoke.

“To think, that all this time, I never had a chance of finding him…it’s almost funny, in a vicious sort of way.  My brother, a corpse hidden away in another world.  All this time, wasted.  Nineteen years of nothingness…”

Alvovz broke into a soft chuckle, the sound weaving through the branches and leaves of the greenery around them.  It lasted for mere seconds before he cut it off.   “Well...what does that matter?” he said. “My life finally has direction again.  Goodbye.”

“Alvovz, wait!”  cried Nemo as the green-clad man turned south.  “We say Ivan’s mother killed Masque, but in truth one of your brother’s servants struck the killing blow.  That pokemon died a painful death.  So in a way, vengeance has already been taken!”

Alvovz continued walking, but stopped at the sound of Ivan’s voice.  “Alvovz…please don’t hurt my mom.  She’s a good person.  I know Mugann was your family but she has family too…”

“…my brother did terrible things,” the swordsman said after a pause.  He did not turn to face the others.  “I will learn the truth…perhaps I will talk to your mother, question her.”

“Will you swear an oath?”  Nemo said.  “Swear to us—the same oath you made to your people.”

Alvovz stood soundlessly for several seconds before walking away.  He never looked back.

As his form vanished into the trees, Alvovz’s voice wafted through the air, bearing one final comment.

“Now that I’m leaving, you needn’t bother to hide your human form, Ivan.  Actually, you need never have bothered.  I’ve known since the second day.”

---

Abraham knuckled his forehead, wishing his headache away.

You need sleep… he told himself.  Pity there’s no time.  There’s never any time.  Sleep would be nice but it’s subordinate to your other concerns…

He looked at the latest report, barely a few hours fresh.  Missy had followed her promise admirably.  Rumors flew through the Indigo Plateau about Azure; negative rumors, the sort that spread perfectly.  Rumors so horrible that you didn’t want believe them, yet part of you didn’t dare to doubt them, and another part needed to share what you heard.

How does she do it? he thought in admiration.  To stir the rank and file in such a way…more proof of my own failings.  If only I could work in that fashion.

The Champion quickly chided himself.  You cannot expect everything of yourself.  You have talents; stick to them, and pick up tools like Missy to do what you cannot.

Yes, the situation concerning Azure could not have progressed any finer.  Then why are my spirits so low?

Because Azure is Azure.  The greatest of the Guilds—the greatest power in the world—could not be expected to topple because of some soured public opinion.  

Look at you, Abraham, the mental criticism continued.  Working so hard.  You know you’re not taken seriously; a man in his twenties, a man barely a man—and an orphan at that—trying to play the big game.  And it’s all so pointless.  Why are you even bothering?  The Guilds aren’t your top priority.

The safety of all humans in this world; could there be a loftier goal?  To ensure that no more lives would be unnecessarily lost like that of his mother.  The Guilds aren’t my biggest obstacle right now—but someday they will be, Abraham concluded, satisfied with his decision.  It’s only smart to lay the groundwork while I can.

First you assign yourself the impossible, and then if you succeed, you can devote your full energy towards the Guilds, he thought wryly.  A tall order for one man…thankfully I have tools.

Like Missy.

She was an unknown factor, and thus dangerous.  What tool would she turn out to be?  One suited for precise, delicate jobs, or was she more lethal?

She’s a hammer, Abraham thought, trying to figure out how to fit Missy into his designs.  Applied correctly, she could smash through nearly insurmountable obstacles; of this, the young Champion had no doubt.  Was putting her to simple propaganda a waste…?

Whatever tool she is, she’s a danger—doubly so as I don’t know as much as I’d like to.  What if I reach for what I believe to be the handle of a hammer, only to find I’ve grabbed the blade of a saw instead?  No, I must apply her cautiously, until I know more.  Though Russo gave me some good starts.

“Excessive,” Abraham had told the Weavile.  “Stupid.  Dangerous.  Luckily the owner of the training facility pledged silence.”

“You told me to see how combat capable they were,” he’d returned.  “Though I suppose I did rise to the same bait I laid out for the Ponyta.”

“Your opinion?”

“Ruby’s dangerous.  She fought me very well, even had me on defense a few times.”

“She had a type advantage.”

“Which is nothing to me, as you know.”  At that moment Russo had leaned forward, seriousness written on his face.  “Not to mention, she was rusty.  I can tell these things.  At top fighting form she’d be a beast, possibly my equal or very, very close.”

“She’s the best of their three?”

“Undoubtedly.  She’s had top training, possibly from a Gym Leader.  That codger who passed away around the time you came in—gah, what’s his name?  Blaine?  I thought I saw some of his tricks in that fight.”

“I’ll look into it,” Abraham had pledged.

“The Gallade was interesting.  I watched him train; not only was he bad at fighting, but he seemed to have genuine difficulty controlling his body.  What’s more, he let I few things slip I think he didn’t mean to.”

“Example?”

“He said that he was ‘Psychic now,’ as though it was a new experience for him.  He also implied that they—his ‘friends,’ as he called them—had seen heavy combat, or at least a very dire situation.”

“Thank you, Russo, you’ve given me good leads.  I’ll probe deeper.”

Missy claimed she experienced the Team Rocket takeover of Saffron.  Abraham’s mind, freed of last night’s memory, swirled in thought.  She alluded to having played a fairly significant role.  Rico was involved in that affair, and he’s an old acquaintance of theirs…assuming she and the pokemon were travel companions at that point, that’s likely the ‘dire situation’ the Gallade claimed he’d undergone.

If he even was a Gallade at that point.  Abraham grimaced, staring out the window at the picturesque town he governed.  Missy herself is obviously nonhuman; the initial report mentions her clawed hands, and though she tries to hide them, I’ve noticed her teeth are more fanged than the average person.

Could it be possible?  Was the Gallade a pokemon who’d switched species, and Missy a human imbued with pokemon qualities?  Knowing the truth would make it easier to factor her in…

If any group knows about transformations and body modifications, it’ll be Forest Ocean.  I need to check how their work for me is progressing anyways…as soon as I receive the opportunity to alert Nail, I’ll send him in their direction.  He’s not too far from their HQ at the moment.

As always, the thought of Forest Ocean set Abraham on edge.  They were risky tools to use, very risky—a partnership with such an elusive Guild could easily prove double-edged.  If the fact that he, the Champion, affiliated with them was exposed…

The work they are doing is crucial, Abraham argued against his doubts.  If my suspicions are correct, I absolutely need them to achieve my top objective.  I’m paying them very well and have taken all the necessary precautions to ensure secrecy.  Everything is under control.

…oh, I wish.

Abraham knew the falsity of that statement.  The reason he needed Forest Ocean so badly was because he certainly did not have everything under control.

You overplayed your hand, he mentally critiqued.  You couldn’t wait and so you jumped several steps ahead…now look at the state of things.  What was to be your greatest asset, the most useful tool, is now a liability far beyond your control.  All because you lacked patience…

Still, the fallout could have been worse.  Things were not irreversible—if he left the anomaly alone and followed his plans as they’d initially been laid, the damage could be brought to heel.  It’s not a lost cause.  I didn’t sabotage myself. And it was a learning experience—the cautious way I’ve handled Missy, despite her top-tier potential, proves I’ve learned patience.

He stood from his desk, stretching, and walked over to the window, enjoying the view of the Indigo Plateau—the town that depended on him to stave off the encroaching lawlessness of the Guilds.

In three years the quality of life had improved dramatically, and the League was again a notable power.

You’re doing good, the Champion told himself.  Despite your mistake and Azure’s influence and the enigma that is Missy and her companions, you’re doing good.  And you have no shortage of useful tools: Russo and your other pokemon…Rico…the Elites…Missy, even, and her usefulness will only be compounded as her mystery fades.

And of course, there was always the ace in the hole.  The last resort.

There was always Articuno.

---

“Why’d you let him go?” Ivan said, delivering a tearful yet demanding look in Nemo’s direction.  “Why didn’t you stop him? Maybe he meant what he said about just talking to my mom, but…!”

“Ivan,” the Seadra replied, his level voice betrayed by the worry in his eyes, “you remember his battle against the Feraligatr—and how badly he destroyed those Bug-types yesterday.  Tell me honestly: do you think the three of us could have stopped him if we’d tried?”

Ivan’s mind flashed images of the steely blade meeting the cold scales of the Feraligatr, and of the total devastation the man had wrought, almost single-handed, on the aggressive insect pokemon.

“…no,” the young Vulpix said, staring at the ground.  He sat quietly, both Artemis and Nemo giving him the silence he needed.

After a few soundless minutes, a wreath of fire enveloped Ivan without warning.  Both Artemis and Nemo shielded their eyes, startled by the brightness.

As the inferno paled, Ivan—human once more—stood on a small, charred segment of earth.  The boy tested his limbs experimentally before  running a hand through his auburn hair.

“Been a while,” he said.  He took off in the direction of the camp, accompanied by the two pokemon.

As they returned, fat raindrops began intermittently splashing; leaves bounced under their force and small circles of mud sporadically dotted the dirt pathway.

“…I want to know something,” Ivan said as they walked.  Artemis and Nemo locked eyes, exchanging a look of dread through the rain.

“Did you all know…about how I can turn into a pokemon?”

“Of course we didn’t!”  Artemis immediately said.  “How could we?  Even you didn’t know about it until—what was it you told us—a year ago at most?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ivan said, voice shaking.  “You were both really surprised.  So you couldn’t have known.”

He didn’t say what he felt.  That his friends were lying to him.

It’s weird, thought Ivan.  I spent several days as a Vulpix and felt okay with it.  It almost felt like second nature.  What am I, really?  Human, or pokemon?

As they returned to camp the clouds above finally broke, and the brief splashes became a blinding sheet of warm, heavy rain. Though it soaked Ivan, he easily kept comfortable through the inner warmth of his power, and he knew he would never hate his abilities.

“Wh-where were you all off to in the nether reaches of the morning?!”  Ripple demanded, poking her head from beneath an outcropping of stone. Artemis and Ivan quickly strung a tarp between tree branches as a makeshift cover from the downpour; their Water-type companion stayed out, enjoying the deluge.

The Furret ran her discerning eyes over the group.  “I thought we were keeping Ivan’s human form a secret?  And where is Alvovz?”

The others avoided a reply.  After a few seconds’ deduction, she released a weary sigh.

“…damn,” she muttered.  “So he’s flown, has he?  I suppose I should be grateful…he was increasingly becoming more of a liability than an asset…but damn!”  She fumed for a few more seconds.  “Ivan, I suppose you’re serving as translator again,” she said.

They laid miserably for the better part of the morning, the rain refusing to let up.  As noon approached the downpour gradually slackened, the drops decreasing in size and regularity.

First Emily, then Ivan, and finally the pokemon dragged themselves out of cover, each silently helping to put away the camp.

As they finished their tasks, the rain stopped—but the clouds, already heavy, sunk low, mingling with the trees and settling the whole forest in foggy mist.

Their progress was slow, the path muddy and their vision thick.  Every member of the group walked in silence, each pointedly avoiding the topic that hung in everyone’s minds: Alvovz’s departure.

Ivan’s thoughts swirled in his mind, foggier than the mist impeding their path.  He wondered if Alvovz could be trusted not to harm his mom; he wondered at the knowledge that one of his parents had killed.

The thoughts fed into each other, kaleidoscopic, each shifting into the next.  Alvovz became Missy became a small, furred, baby Ivan, with the whole world whispering a secret behind his back.  He realized the origin of the two mask halves his mother kept and tried to picture Mugann, and he found himself imaging a younger and truly terrible version of Alvovz, whose face stretched into an abominable grin and cracked, becoming the mask that Ivan’s mother sometime pondered.

The two halves of the mask stretched into a pearly white, grinning face with a jagged mouth.  Slowly the mouth elongated, sprouting wicked teeth, and a giant blue body materialized behind it.  The Feraligatr reared, roaring, but a slash cut it down as Alvovz, the real one, stood in resolution.  Never changing his stoic face Alvovz turned to Missy and with a single stroke felled her.  Now Ivan was there, crying over his mother, and though he respected the green-clad man and owed him his life the dream-Ivan shifted into a Vulpix and knew he would have to destroy the swordsman.  Fire spilled from his maw as they raced to meet each other, with his hot flames meeting Alvovz’ cold steel—

“IVAN!”

The young boy jerked from his reverie to find the pokemon gathered around him, worry vaguely etched on their faces through the mist.

“Wh—what is it?”

“We want to know if you’d be up for hearing another one of the Ipde tales,” Nemo said.  “We haven’t had much conversation today and I figured it’d pass the time.  Plus, we’re rather close to arriving at Ipde, and yet most of us here have only heard one of the stories.”

“Wait,” Ivan said, “we’re almost to Ipde?!”

“Weren’t you listening?”  scolded Ripple.   “Emily just did the calculations in her head and announced that if it wasn’t for the rain holding us up this morning, we could have made it there by nightfall.”

The Furret fixed her gaze on Ivan’s face, slight worry shining through.  “Hey…are you feeling all right?  You really zoned out there.”

“F-fine,” Ivan said, “just...thinking.  But yeah, I’d be up for a story.”

“Good news,” Ripple said.  “But we’ll need you to ask Emily on our behalf.”

“Oh…right.”

Emily wasn’t unreceptive to the idea.  “But which one do you want?”  she said.  “There’s a whole body of tales out there.”

Ivan thought.  None of the pokemon had specified a story.  “The whole point that you’re going to Ipde is because of that ‘Trumpeter’ thing, right?”  he asked.  “Tell me a story about him.”

Emily grinned.  “That I can do.  How’s this sound—I’ll share the original Trumpeter story.  Not only is it the most famous of the Ipde tales, it’s also the only one I can pull from memory—I don’t want my materials to get damaged in this weather.”

None of the pokemon objected, so the girl cleared her throat excitedly.

“This,” she began, “is the story of ‘The Dark Wonder-Maker.’”

“Once there was a nameless village, which was nestled far away into the wild reaches of the world.  The people of the village were isolated, and to reach another settlement was a month’s journey or more.

“It happened that troubled times befell the village.  A searing, summer-long drought burned their crops, and as autumn came vicious storms and floods beset them.  Whole buildings were washed away, and children were swept from the arms of their mothers to drown in filthy water.”

Ivan pictured the floods in his mind’s eye, and shuddered.  These fairy tales were so simple.  Then why did they all have such dark images?

Floods and droughts…screaming, bound Princes…for such a special place, Ipde didn’t have very many happy stories.

“The true trials were yet to come.  As the terrible waters went away, fall faded into a black winter.  The summer drought had destroyed their crops, leaving the village in famine.  The raging floodwater had ground many buildings and houses into dust, leaving no place to gather from the frost and weather.

“So they faced the long cold of winter with no food and no shelter.

“The winter’s chill was unbearable.  Even pokemon of fire, the few remaining companions to the suffering villagers, could not warm themselves and succumbed to the cold.  People died for want of bread, for want of warmth.  They died for want of hope, taking their own lives so that they might not face the fierce agony of freezing winter.

“As the season ended, it was a shell of a village that greeted the spring.  The survivors had nothing by which to live.

“They cried out desperately.  ‘Please,’ they wept.  ‘We shall die this year…we cannot continue on our own.  We have nothing by which to feed our children and our pokemon…we have nothing.’

“Their prayers were answered.

“One still night, the villagers heard a sound like wind rustling through the leaves of trees.  They listened in wonderment, for there was no breeze to stir such a sound.

“Then a stranger—tall, cowled, and with piercing dark eyes—glided from out of the night.  The moon’s light cascaded about him, but he cast no shadow.

“‘I shall rescue you,’ he said.  And for three nights, there were miracles.”

For some reason he could not name, Ivan felt himself growing cold inside as the story progressed.  Perhaps it was the mist and lingering rain that brought this eeriness upon him.

Perhaps.

“The first night, he gathered the sick and withered, and renewed them at his touch.  The second night, he raised miles of healthy crops with the gesture of a hand.  The third night, he planted a seed at the village square and bade it grow into a great and magnificent tree, with branches stretching to the clouds and sky.

“The people marveled at these wonders, which surpassed even the powers of their companion pokemon.

“‘Tell us, stranger, what might we do to repay you?  You have rescued our village.’

“The stranger’s reply was instantaneous.  ‘Devote yourselves to me,’ he demanded.  ‘Worship me for all time and bow eternally to me.’

“This answer did not please the people of the nameless village.  ‘O evil one,’ they cried, ‘what manner of man demands everlasting servitude?  You do miracles and then demand great wickedness, tricking us like the fish is tricked with bait, never seeing the hook.’

“They drove the stranger from their village and he swore bitter vengeance to them, promising to take payment of a far dearer sort.

“Many months passed, and one night while the people of the village slept soundly in their beds the sound of blowing leaves floated through the air, though there was no wind.  A soft melody, like a young innocent playing at a trumpet, wormed through the village.

The adults were put into a great sleep at the sound of the song, but the children were roused at its tune.  Enticed, they wandered one after another under the dim stars to the edge of their hamlet, where they met with a tall, shadowless stranger who led them away.  The pokemon of the village also woke, but were driven into terror at the trumpeting noise, howling their fear to the deaf ears of the villagers.

“As rosy dawn made its way over the treetops, the people of the village awoke and found they had no children.

“Their agonized weeping reached the heavens.

“Only three youths resisted the spell of the Trumpeter, small children who had slumbered the night before beneath the boughs of the great tree, which had shielded them from the music.

“To this very day, the Trumpeter rages over the three children who got away.  He hunts them still, and will never stop hunting them.  So should you ever hear the sound of leaves blowing in wind that is not there, or see a black shape with no shadow, you must lock your doors, plug your ears, and hide your children…

For who knows what could be walking the night?”

With the tale completed, Emily turned to look at her companions, squinting through the mist.  They walked morosely, contemplating the story in silence.

“That’s the story that everyone goes crazy over?”  Ivan finally asked.  “It’s…scary.  And sad.”

“It’s meant to be scary and sad,” Ripple intercut.  “Not all fairy tales have happy endings.  Some are bleak, or tragic, or frightening.  They’re meant to impart messages about life to the listener.”

“And what message does this offer?”  Nemo said.

Ripple beamed.  “No one’s quite sure.  That’s the beauty of it.  People and pokemon love to debate; discussing a solid, obvious theme isn’t as engaging as formulating one yourself and arguing it.  No-one’s quite sure what the message is, only that it exists.”

“Well, what do you think the message is?”  asked Nemo.

“It’s a warning,” Ivan said before Ripple could answer.  They turned their attention to him, the hint of a pout dancing across the Furret’s face.

“A warning about what?” Emily inquired.

“The Deplorable One,” Ivan said.  “The story is called ‘The Dark Wonder-Maker,’ and he does make wonders, but I think he’s worse than the disasters that made them go to him.”

“Wait,” Artemis said, confused, “I thought fairy tales were fake—with everything representing something.  The Trumpeter’s not real, he’s a symbol.”

“That’s the general idea,” Emily said, glad to have Ivan translating for her.  He was, in his own way, more useful than the psychics employed by Gentle Darkness for human-pokemon communication.  “Assuming the tale is meant as a representation, a vaguer version of Ivan’s guess is the most widely accepted ‘theme’ of the story: When bad things happen, evil people will offer a solution that is even worse for you in the long run.  It’s a moral cautioning against accepting help from shady sources in desperate times.

“But,” the brown-skinned girl continued, “this tale is unusually popular within the Ipde body of work.  There are plenty of people who think the Trumpeter is a real being—and I think their numbers just bolstered by one.”  She flashed a cheeky grin in Ivan’s direction.

“I don’t know why,” the red-headed boy murmured. “I just…felt like the story was talking to me, telling me to watch out for him.”

“Mhmm,” Emily mused, smiling.  “Well, there have always been ‘sightings,’ but the rash of outbreaks—around the Ipde region itself, no less—has our Guild intrigued.  If we can confirm the existence of such a famous folkloric figure…!”

And she continued her good-natured ramblings, even as Ivan shambled next to her, lost in thoughts of oath-bound swordsmen, of wicked masked criminals and of black forms with no shadows…

---

That evening, Emily was anything but good-natured.  They might have arrived at Ipde by nightfall, but between the wasted morning and the mist impeding their progress, they’d made incredibly slow going; a mere handful of miles, in fact.

“Weather’s gonna be just as bad tomorrow,” she muttered.  “That’ll slow us down, possibly even worse than we did today.  We’ll be lucky if we reach Ipde by tomorrow evening.

Emily knew that arriving so late would dent her chances of using the trip to climb Guild ranks.  Ah, well.  The discovery of Ivan would offset that loss with ease.

I’ll have to be careful how I show him to the upper echelons, she thought.  Not only might they try and steal my thunder, but I don’t want them to mistreat Ivan… At first Emily’d thought of the young Vulpix—or should she think of him as the young boy? Ahhhh, it was so confusing!—and his pokemon friends as peculiar traveling companions, but now she was fond of them, in her own way.

I’d thought of Alvovz similarly, she mused.  But now he’s gone…something happened between him and Ivan’s group.  I don’t know what occurred…I know I’m missing something.  I hate being out of the loop.

Still, there’s nothing to do now.  If he wants to leave, let him.  I have more pressing problems.

And pressing they were.

Emily hadn’t just picked any place to stop and set up camp; it was the site of Gentle Darkness’ most recent cache.

Of course, she’d shared the few facts and figures left to them with Ripple and the others.  But the letter from Kenneth—privately addressed as being exclusive for her eyes—she’d kept safe.

She poked her head out of her tent, eying the silent canopies of the others.  Artemis, inattentive Artemis, was keeping watch.  Emily felt safe reading the letter once more.

‘I’m scared.

‘I know it seems silly, but the closer we get to Ipde, the worse things get for us.  The senior members just argue, argue, argue…I know they always bickered but now it seems awful, like they hate each other. t-t

‘Last night one of our scientists got in a fight with the party leader.  : (  She got really upset and stomped off.

‘She wasn’t back by the time morning came around.  Everyone else said she’d had enough and just decided to return home on her own.

‘I’m…I’m not so sure.’

We haven’t encountered anyone from the Gentle Darkness team on our journey, Emily thought with worry.  And there’s only one real way to and from Ipde, at least in this direction.

‘There’s other things too,’ Kenneth’s letter continued.  ‘You remember that stranger I wrote you about?  The distant one?

‘I keep seeing him on our trip.   He’s always hovering at the far end of the path, or barely visible in thick growths of trees, or silhouetted against the horizon on hilltops.

‘I’ve realized that none of the others can see him.

‘I’m not crazy—I don’t think I am, anyway.  You remember the legend we’re chasing?

‘I think it’s breathing down my neck.

‘I’m sorry.  I know you don’t want to hear this.  And maybe I am just crazy, or I have an overactive imagination, or one of the million other, more plausible explanations.

‘…You know what?  I’m being silly.  So just forget everything I said, okay? (:

‘Your map should show you an old cabin a few miles away from Ipde’s edge.  It’s Guild property.  We’re going to be using it as the staging base for our studies.  You should be able to make it within a day’s journey of this cache’s location, easily.

‘I hope to see you.  And stay safe.

Kenneth’

Emily folded the letter aside and wormed deep into her sleeping bag.  Her busy mind kept her awake all night.