FicWad

Title: Unexpected Places
Author: MakaiKitty
Rating: PG-13/R
Category: Original Fantasy, "Unexpected Places" storyline
Pairing: Garrett/Kinder, slight Aviann/Lisbet
Warnings: Slash, M/M, angst, H/C, daemons, language, implied (past) violence/child abuse, implied (past) Non-con
Distribution: My website, My LJ and any LJs I choose to post at, AFF.net, FicWad, and DeviantArt. All of my accounts are under the user name MakaiKitty. If you'd like to use it just let me know.
Disclaimer: The characters, daemon realms, and situations in this story are all original and belong solely to MakaiKitty. Please don't steal, borrow, take, or otherwise use anything from my fics.
Updates: Just join my YahooGroup to be informed of any updates to this or any of my other fics - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/makaikittyfics
Word Count: 18,979 words
Status: Complete

Unexpected Places

"Well, there goes another king."

"Second one this year, isn't it?" A gravely voice enquired of the first, disappointment clear in his voice, even if the note was not accompanied by much surprise.

"Maybe we should try for a queen next time?"

"Or maybe we should send a warrior worthy of calling himself our king?!"

The village elders of the Mandurian clan turned as one to see who had interrupted their conversation with such an outburst, but upon seeing a tall young blond man clad in heavy brown leathers stride into the room with fury in his eyes and determination on his face, the elders simply smiled sad smiles and went back to examining the object of their discussion with shakes of their heads and shrugs of their shoulders. The thing before them could have been called a daemon, but only if you knew what you were looking at ahead of time. What had once born the shape of a man, tall and slender, was now nothing more than a lump of flesh speared through by the occasional sharp bone or tuft of dark blue hair. What once would have been called the front was crisscrossed with long gaping wounds that they all knew to have been caused by razor sharp claws the length of the average man's forearm, and the back was nothing more than an open space that showed through to the hollowed out cavity inside. The spine had been ripped clean from the body, the insides gutted and lost to the sands and the beasts. As for the head? That was anyone's guess. The bodies never did come back with heads.

"You know that this man was not fit to be our king." The young warrior said, sparing only a moments glance for the useless meat at his feet. He had seen worse. "I told you that the Sand Wyrm would send him back in pieces."

"Yes, he really should have heeded your warning, Garrett." Japheth, the head elder, said from his seat on the far side of the tent. "Then again, they never really do."

"That's because they're all fools." Garrett spat. "And the wyrm knows it just as well as I do."

"Yes, well, that's all well and good..." A pale haired elder said from the entrance to the tent, whipping at his mouth as he approached. The others may have found the body of their former king to be less than interesting, but no matter how many times that the wyrm sent back the mangled bodies of their leaders his stomach never did seem to be up to the task of looking upon what had once been a daemon. "But the night of the Altorian Moon is fast approaching and he was our last hope for saving our maidens for this cycle."

"And what now?" Garrett demanded. "We'll just lose them the next time that the moon comes and we don't have a fit king to negotiate with Eazhannt!"

"Garrett." Japheth tried to keep his voice calm, but he knew that nothing would sooth their young warrior. Nor would it have him had he been in the other man's place. "I know that your sister is to be a part of the sacrifice this season-"

"My sister is only a part of this." Garrett insisted. And, at least in part, it was true. This was bigger than he and his family, no matter what the elders thought. "I am tired of seeing our village live in fear, I am tired of losing our young women to the Sand Wyrm's whims, and most of all I am tired of watching these pathetic nobles from the outside attempting to rule our clan!"

"And what would you have us do, young one?" One of the elders questioned. "We have no choice, and we all know it. This is our fate as a village and as a people. Accept it."

"Yes, the sooner you accept this truth the better off you will be." Said another, and all but the head elder nodded in agreement or grunted their approval. "This is simply the way that it is for us."

"Well, it is not my way!"

The others knew not what to say, but Japheth knew where Garrett was going, what his argument was all about. He also knew that this time there would be no talking the younger man out of it.

"Our clan is known for its potions and the power of its mages, for our healing magicks, not our might." Garrett nodded, but he did not back down, the determined set of his shoulders and the fierceness of his pale pastel eyes telling Japheth that he spoke only for the benefit of the other elders. "You may be strong in comparison to most of our people, perhaps even on par with the hunters of the Batarian clans, but are you certain that you are warrior enough to fight this battle alone?"

"Japheth, you can't mean to let-"

"Silence, my friend, this is not an argument for you."

"But Garrett is our finest warrior, if we lose him to the wyrm-"

"Silence." Japheth repeated, and, although he did not shout, his demand was headed with absolute obedience this time. "I would hear Garrett out."

"Thank you." Garrett seemed calmed by the willingness of the head elder to listen, and with a heaving sigh he put forth his plan as he had heard it a hundred times over in his mind. "The outsiders have never helped us, never been a fit envoy to the Sand Wyrm, so why should we continue to let the outsiders speak for us. I would go in the place of our ill-set kings and speak to the wyrm on behalf of our village."

"And if Eazhannt does not find you fit."

"Then I will die."

"So simple, is it?" Japheth said with a chuckle. "But I can not let you go as you are now. Simple or not."

"But I-"

One look quieted the strong willed warrior, but it was with a stubborn glare that he waited for the elder to finish.

"I said that you can not go as you are now. I did not say that you can not go at all."

"Then what?" Garrett wondered. "If I can not go as I am now then what must I do so that I can go?"

"The one thing that the others did not."

"And that would be?" Garrett asked impatiently. No matter what they asked of him, he would do it, so this conversation was pointless. They had precious little time left as it was.

"You must prove yourself worthy and find the strength to declare yourself our king."

"You know that I am strong." There was a hint of arrogance in his tone when Garrett spoke, but all assembled knew that such a feeling was not entirely unwarranted. "I am well known as our village's strongest warrior."

"Yes, you are indeed strong, but will the wyrm know your strength for what it is?"

"You're talking in circles old man." Garrett growled. "And I grow tired of it."

The chuckle from Japheth was an unexpected response, and Garrett stopped midstep, having previously turned to storm out of the tent so as to take matters into his own hands. He turned warily back to the elders, wondering what, /exactly/, could be cause for laughter when the situation was so dire for all concerned.

"The young are so brash." Japheth answered the unasked question that swam in the pale green depths of the younger man's eyes. "So I will have mercy on your impetuous nature and tell you, in no uncertain terms, what you must do to make yourself worthy of approaching the Sand Wyrm as our king. Listen closely, boy."

Garrett nodded, squared his shoulders, and awaited the elder's instructions.

"High in the mountains, in the lands beyond the Galtian Fields, there lives a race of beings called the Verzacht. They are a mysterious people, nomads by nature, and finding one will be very hard indeed. However, find one you must, because these beings are possessed of great magickal power and you will need that power if you are to withstand the scrutiny of Eazhannt's discerning eye." The other elders nodded their agreement, thinking Japheth's plan a wise one, each silently wondering why they had not previously thought of such a thing. "The bones of the Verzacht contain such magick within them that should those bones be ground up to make a special potion then the one who drinks such a concoction would be granted power that even the Great Sand Wyrm of Tanndor could not deny."

"So you want me to rob a grave and bring you back the bones of some mystical demon?" Garrett asked, a little shocked at the simplicity of Japheth's grand plan. "Fine, I'll leave straight away."

"Do you really think it that simple?" Japheth's eyebrows rose with a mixture of amusement and surprise. The quirk of his lips made Garrett more than a little nervous, and he waited with baited breath for the elder's next words. "I thought you wiser than that, Garrett."

"You just said that I needed the bones of a Verzacht in order to make this potion." His hearing was sharp, having aided him on more than one difficult hunt, so Garrett knew that he had not misheard. "Or have you gone senile in your old age?"

"Watch your tongue, child!" Began one of the other elders, but Japheth raised a hand that silenced his defender, instead laughing lightly at Garrett's jibe. To the naked eye he appeared no older than Garrett, his back strong, his eyes bright, and his skin unmarred by the lines of age that so many races were cursed with. However, physical appearance was not always the best judge of such things, and Garrett was indeed correct to call him old. It did not bother him. Age had it's advantages.

"I am not senile," Japheth answered, "but perhaps you have gone hard of hearing in your rashness. I never told you to rob a grave, nothing of the sort, only that the Panmar Potion requires the bones of a Verzacht to give it strength."

"Then what would you have of me, Elder?"

"The bones must be fresh and harvested by the maker of the potion. You must kill a Verzacht in order to make the potion." All laughter was gone from the elder's face, his dark eyes now serious, and he looked at Garrett in a way that let him know that there would be no discussion on the matter. This was the only way. "Without the Panmar Potion neither your body nor your soul will withstand Eazhannt's inspection."

This was not what Garrett had expected when he had entered the tent to put himself forward as a candidate for their newest king. His own life, yes, but to take the life of another in order to make himself ready? Then he thought of Lisbet, his sister, and of all of the other young women they had lost to the Sand Wyrm's whims. He thought of his village, suffering under the fear of the great beast that ruled their lives. And of the worthless succession of so-called kings, ending with the near formless mass of flesh that lay in the center of the tent, oozing blood and gore all across the brightly colored carpets. With those thoughts in his head Garrett gave the only answer that he was capable of. "As I said before, I'll leave straight away."

***
"You're not serious about this!"

"The hells I am." Garrett growled, pushing his wild blond hair out of his face with a frustrated rake of his fingers, checking his pack one last time to make certain that he was prepared. He had packed expecting to go into the desert seeking the Sand Wyrm and he was left to wonder if his previsions would serve him as well now that he was headed for the mountains instead. Regardless, he did not have time to waste, either with repacking or with arguing.

"Then I'm going with you."

"I can't let you do that, Aviann."

"Why, because I'd be a hindrance?" The smaller man growled, walking forward with a determined stride that was only slightly slowed by the dragging of a lame left leg. Fire sparked in his crimson eyes, and his fangs showed when spoke, a sure sign that the Kanarian was angry. "A cripple I may be, but all the same, I can't let my best friend go off to die without-"

"No, because I need you to get Lisbet out of here if I don't succeed." Garrett interrupted, not looking at his friend as he spoke, still checking his packs and securing his two golden scythes in place. His steed stomped impatiently with six heavy hooves, not at all happy about the heavier than usual load being placed upon him, and Garrett took a moment to sooth the beast before speaking again to Aviann. "Take her rather she wants to go or not, and get her as far away from this village and the wyrm as you can." In many ways he viewed his friend's task as more important that his own. And twice as terrifying "I know that you'll take care of her."
No further words were needed, both men knew their duties and neither would waver, and it was silently that they embraced before Garrett mounted his steed and rode off into the blinding light of the rising sun.

TBC ...