“I believe in you, Lune. I have always believed in you.”

This piece of art is the second illustration for a complete, short novel. You can find the second part of the novel below. Due to its length, the work is spread over several uploads. If you follow the links in the text, you’ll be taken through the entire novel seamlessly. If you’d like to start the novel from the very beginning, follow the link below:

<The beginning of this novel>

Alternatively, if you want to read the entire novel in one place, you can do so here:

<Complete novel in .pdf format>

This novel deals with some dark themes that some readers might find distressing. That includes graphic depictions of violence, and descriptions of physical and emotional abuse.

It also contains major spoilers for the games Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Blue/Red Rescue Team, and Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky. Proceed and your own risk!

Faith is part of two continuities. It is part of my own series of stories, based on Team Rangers, and part of a series of stories written by a friend of mine, LilArrin, featuring his own Team Guardians. All members of Team Guardians, and all the scenes written in his world, are based on his creations.

However, this novel was written with the intention that it should stand on its own. No previous knowledge of my fiction, or of LilArrin’s, is required to enjoy this work. The same holds true of the games. You will still be able to enjoy this work without any knowledge of the Pokémon Mystery Dungeon games, or even if you know nothing at all about Pokémon! This novel will tell you everything you need to know.

Music forms an important part of my art. Each artwork and story I write comes with some musical suggestions which I believe emphasises the emotions of the work, and this novel is no exception. Given its length, there are quite a few pieces of music associated with this work! I suggest listening to the following when viewing this illustration:

<Mille Regretz – Josquin des Prez: The Hilliard Ensemble:>

If you like listening to music while reading, I have some suggestions for you. Since the second part of this book is longer than the first, I have included a music suggestion at the beginning of every chapter. I’ve placed the links under each chapter heading. I have also included some music at the very end, which you might want to listen to when you’ve finished the novel.

If you’d prefer not to read the novel itself, there are some notes about this work at the very end. You can find them at the bottom of the fourth upload.

_________________________________________


Book Two: Fidelity

I laugh sometimes with little lust,
So jest I oft and feel no joy:
Mine ease is builded all on trust:
And yet mistrust breeds mine annoy.
I live and lack, I lack and have:
I have and miss the thing I crave.

George Gascoigne (c.1535 - 1577)

_________________________________________

X : Lune at Wishcash Pond
_________________________________________


Lachrimae Antiquae – John Dowland: Hespérion XX
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCfhqh0u20c


Lune sat among a clump of flowers and tried to catch his breath. The run down from Wild Plains had been hard. The night air was hot and dense, no cooler for the earlier rain, and his fur was matted and slick with sweat. But he desperately needed to get away from the plains, even if only for a little while. Wishcash Pond was the quietest place he could think of, and the shaded water was mercifully cooler than the surrounding countryside.

It was still several hours before dawn, and absolutely silent. Most of Pokémon Square’s nocturnal residents were away working to deal with the effects of the Paralysis. Those that weren’t were quiet out of respect for the vast majority of the residents who only awoke during the day. Even Wishcash, usually a hive of activity before most of the residents were awake, was still asleep somewhere under the water. Lune was alone in the peace and quiet. He had plenty of time to think.

What is wrong with me?

It had started out simply as a feeling of slight unease. It was hard to trace exactly when he had first noticed it, but it had been months ago now. Originally, he’d put it down to nervousness about the new responsibilities he had as a member of Team Rangers, but as he grew used to the work, the feeling only grew stronger. There was a shadow on the edge of his world, eating away at him. The more he tried to ignore it, the worse it became. He began to find it difficult to sleep, and started having strange nightmares. He found it difficult to associate even with the best of his new friends. And as it became worse, he even found himself losing joy in his rescue work. It became a task, something to keep him busy because he didn’t want to be alone.

What is wrong? I don’t understand!

It didn’t make any kind of sense. His whole life had changed for the better since he had been thrust from Team Guardians and into the care of Team Rangers. All the Pokémon here were so helpful, so friendly. He’d made the first genuine friends he could recall making. And he was working at the top of his game, improving all the time. Sebastian trusted him to lead the most difficult of missions, and he ventured into dungeons even seasoned members of Rangers wouldn’t enter. He’d climbed Joyous Tower, worked his way into the depths of Purity Forest.

And he felt healthier, more competent, than he could ever remember. It was as if Charmander had been a veil of fear that had covered his life. After he had been torn from his old team leader, the veil was lifted and he could think properly again. He felt so different from what he used to be. He felt able to think clearly for the first time in life. Ideas that would have puzzled him before, he understood almost immediately. He found himself making use of his abilities, thinking, planning, making strategy. It was wonderful. His whole world was bright.

But still the darkness ate away at him.

He tried not to let it show to his friends, to the Pokémon he worked with. They had so much to deal with in shoring up the continent for the full might of the Paralysis that he didn’t want to burden them any more than he had to. But it was getting harder to pretend that everything was alright. He found himself getting more and more distracted. And Seb ...

Sebastian was difficult to deal with at times. He deeply appreciated everything that his fellow Linoone had done to bring him into the team, in bringing him out of his shell. He was a good friend. And yet, the team leader was very ... intense. He tried too hard to help him out, sometimes. Lune knew that Seb felt terrible about what his friend had learned about Charmander’s behaviour towards him, and he felt sure that the Linoone was trying to make up for it in any way he could. And he really did appreciate that help. But Seb was always there, always nearby to help if he was needed. Sometimes, Lune just needed to be alone. He needed the quiet to think things through, to escape the busyness of the world, to relax. With Seb, solitude was difficult to come by sometimes.

That was why he was here. He needed some space to think this problem through at last. It couldn’t wait any longer. If Seb asked, he could always say that he just couldn’t sleep on the plains, and had come here to cool off. That was, at least, partially true.

Why haven’t I told him about this?

But he knew why. He was worried for Seb, how he would react when he learnt that his fellow Linoone wasn’t doing so well. Seb had tried so hard to care for him, and part of him couldn’t bear to let the Linoone know that he was, in spite of everything, somehow falling short.

Lune shifted position, moving one leg under the other. The pond gave the air the smell of damp soil mixed with the blossom of the nearby flowers. The small sheltered area was so peaceful.

I have to tell him.

It was the only way. It was silly to keep such a thing from him. Practically, he was his team leader, and if there was something that was affecting his work, Seb had to know. But also, Seb only wanted to help. Certainly, he pushed too hard sometimes, but he was sure that the Pokémon would think of some way to help out in spite of that. He always had ideas on ways to help people be cheerful, even in the worst of times. He suddenly remembered something one of the other team members had told him once.

“There is always hope.”

Exactly. He should talk to Seb, let him know how he was feeling. And he should let him know that the other Linoone was making him feel claustrophobic, too. He was sure that, if he explained it properly, Seb wouldn’t be offended. He had always been so understanding. He resolved to speak to the Linoone when a good opportunity arose. He had learnt much from this team. He could make this right.

He smiled. Even in a short while, he had identified a problem and thought of a way to fix it. Perhaps some good would come of this spur of the moment idea to run out into the night. But Seb wasn’t the main problem, not at all. He was only a small consequence of it. The real problem was far deeper than that. And if he didn’t know the problem, no amount of peaceful solitude would help him find a solution! His thoughts idled for moment, searching for something to latch on to. His gaze drifted, and he looked up at the night sky. His eyes caught on the moon for a second.

“I was wondering ... how does Lune sound? It means Moon.”

He felt his melancholic mood lifting just a fraction. Whatever was troubling him, the Pokémon here really were helping him out enormously. But the moon itself was no longer the shining beacon it had been when he arrived. It was twisted and distorted. Even in the months he had been here, the effects of the Paralysis had grown substantially worse. The band of darkness caused by the expanding region of frozen time had moved far into the sky. Even during the day, the band of darkness was beginning to cut out a substantial fraction of the sun’s light. And the moon ...

The moon looked as if it was melting, as if its lower portions had turned into treacle and were oozing towards the ground. Its bright shape was now a blurred, inverted Sitrus. It was unsettling. Seb said that it was all an illusion. The distortion of the Paralysis was bending light around it, causing the lower portions of the satellite to appear displaced. In a few months, he said, the moon would look like its normal self again. But that wasn’t much comfort. By then, the band of darkness would have moved up higher than the portion of the atmosphere through which they saw the moon, at least when viewed from here. At that point, they would probably be in perpetual twilight.

But the Paralysis wasn’t the source of his problems either. It was very disturbing, but it was still something practical that he could deal with. Unlike the members of Rangers, he was used to the idea of the slowing of time. He had seen effects like these before in Treasure Town, admittedly on a substantially smaller scale. And he’d spoken to Raichu about what she’d seen in a future feeling far worse effects even than this.

And Rangers was coping. It wasn’t easy, but there were thoughtful Pokémon here who had tried to come up with ways to deal with the most serious problems the region might face. So far, their ideas had met with significant success. They had tried to plan for every conceivable eventuality. Even if the flow of time in the environment slowed to a crawl, the Pokémon would still survive. Once the boundary of the Paralysis passed over them, life would almost be easier. The instabilities caused by the interface between the two different regions of time would slowly diminish, and life would at least become more predictable.

Moreover, the barrier the kept Rangers from Temporal Tower would finally be gone. The storms currently ravaging the ocean made any kind of travel to the Hidden Land absolutely impossible. The storms were already weakened by the time they hit the continent, and even then it required a lot of planning and hard work by Rangers to ensure that structures survived, and no lives were lost. But over the ocean, the storms were terrible. The weather was caused by wind currents snagging against the boundary of the Paralysis. The storms spread inside the barrier, too, but they petered out, just as they did on this side of the barrier. Inside them it was calm. And when they reached that area of calm, Rangers could freely travel to Temporal Tower. Given his knowledge of the cause of the Paralysis, and everything he’d learned about Dialga and the Time Gears, he felt confident that Rangers could eventually stop the calamity.

He could save the whole world.

Everything would eventually right itself. He was sure of that. So why was he so uneasy? He looked at the wilting flowers around him. Most were in full bloom despite the darkness. The Paralysis was confusing their internal rhythms, causing them to bloom at the wrong times, and missing out on sunlight that was weaker by the day. Plants all over the continent were slowly dying. A significant part of Rangers’ efforts was to keep plant life alive. He felt a sudden pang of compassion for the Grass types he knew in Rangers. He hadn’t heard anyone complain, but he had a sharp realisation of how hard this must be for them too. Even Charlotte, a stoic Bulbasaur who he had gotten to know well, had been looking more and more tired recently. He should check on her and see how she was doing.

It’s not just me. We’re all hiding our problems.

It was hard to watch others suffer, and that was something the Paralysis forced on him. But he was doing his absolute best to help. There was little more he could do. He was working hard to improve himself all the time, and he knew that he had brought at least a little hope to Rangers.

So why do I feel so terrible?

He missed all those he knew in Treasure Town, of course. He hoped they were all okay. Especially Raichu. He missed Latios too. But they were strong and competent Pokémon. He knew they would be able to get by without him. Although that didn’t stop him from worrying about what Charmander would be doing to them.

But that was all out of his hands. There was no going back now. He couldn’t return to help them. There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Seb’s promise that Rangers would find a way for him to return if necessary, but he knew that all his experiences with Rangers would make it extremely difficult. There was no way he would be able to face ...

“Linoone.”

The voice was a short distance behind him, thick and husky. And impatient. Worse, he knew the voice.

It can’t be. It can’t!

He tried to calm himself. He must have misheard. He had been confused by Rangers’ Pokémon before. His work with Guardians meant that he was only used to dealing with one member of a species at a time, and there were moments when he had mixed up different members of Rangers because of this. This must be no different. It must be Oliver. He wondered what he was doing in Pokémon Square this early in the morning. He forced himself to move slowly, and casually stand. But, as he turned, he realised that he wasn’t mistaken. It wasn’t Oliver after all.

It was Quilava.

The mercenary stood before him, glowering. He was black star rank, the highest there was, and absolutely lethal. And he was working for Charmander. His fire lit up the surrounding area, and threw the walls around the pond into sharp relief. Behind him, smoke poured from a dozen places from the buildings in Pokémon Square.

How could this happen? Why didn’t I hear him?

The walls. The high walls around the pond must have blocked the sound of Quilava’s work in the square. It had prevented him from hearing the Pokémon’s approach, too. The quietness and solitude he had longed for had betrayed him.

Quilava must have been searching for him. Pokémon Square was the obvious first place to look if Guardians had found a way to trace his teleportation. The mercenary had been efficient in doing so much damage in such a short amount of time. He suddenly remembered calling out a tired greeting to a Hoothoot as he had passed over the mosaic at the centre of town. The Pokémon must have noticed which way he was headed. He dreaded to think how Quilava had managed to get the poor Pokémon to tell him what he needed to know.

“You’re a tough bastard to find.”

He knew that he would only have moments. Quilava was blocking the immediate exit to the square. The walls around the pond blocked all other escape. The fact that the mercenary hadn’t been followed from the square showed how hopeless calling for help would be.

The only other option was Luminous Cave. The mysterious force that inhabited it only allowed one Pokémon inside at a time. Quilava was brawn, not brains. Surely the mercenary wouldn’t be able to break through the barrier. If he could only find a way to reach it, he would be safe while Rangers found a way to pacify the creature.

But he hadn’t noticed how far along the pond he had moved when he had first arrived. And he couldn’t tell from his current vantage point. He desperately wanted to look, but he knew he couldn’t give Quilava any hint of what he was planning. He hoped the cave wasn’t too far. He was significantly faster than the mercenary and, on open ground, would outrun him easily. But his body was built for speed, not for manoeuvring. Even now, he had problems with running in arcs.

If the cave was too far around the curve of the pond, there was no way he would make it.

Quilava seemed to read his mind. He scowled.

“Don’t run. Your escapes are all covered.”

He glanced to his left.

“Including that pathetic hole in the ground. I’ve had enough trouble finding you already, and I’m not going to lose you.”

Quilava moved closer to him. He backed away. His feet touched water.

“Besides, I want to have the time to enjoy this.”

Now that the Pokémon was closer, he could see that the mercenary was injured. His fur was ragged and torn. The dull red of numerous small wounds showed out from under the fur, staining it. And there was a long, deep gash that extended from under his right arm down almost to his knees. His bandana was torn and blackened. The metal on his belt bloomed a harsh bronze, as if it had been subjected to intense heat.

The Pokémon winced a little as he moved.

But this changed nothing. Even injured, Quilava had caused serious damage to Pokémon Square. The wounds weren’t recent enough to have been picked up there. Surely the Pokémon in the square would have tried crippling the mercenary in defence. There was nothing he could do. He was trapped.

Unless I could stall for time ...

Perhaps the Pokémon in the surrounding area would notice the smoke, and try to find its cause. Perhaps one of the legendary birds would fly over the town at dawn, as happened on occasion. Perhaps Wishcash would wake. He had to play for time.

“Look, Quilava, it was all an accident! I didn’t ...”

The mercenary grimaced, showing his teeth.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t want to come here! I couldn’t find my way back! I just want to go home. I can ...”

Quilava moved closer still. He was only inches away from the Linoone now.

“You just don’t know when to shut your jaw, do you?”

“Please, Quil –”

Quilava glared at him. He shut up.

“Charmander’s mad at you. Very mad. You left him during a mission. You stole from him. That wasn’t wise.”

Quilava put his paws on the Linoone’s shoulders. The fire type was a full head taller than him.

“You shouldn’t have crossed him. Not when you’ve already done so much to piss him off. I don’t know why he didn’t get rid of you sooner.”

Quilava looked at him intently.

“But he’s through with you now. You’re officially no longer a part of his stupid Team.

“That means he’s no longer protecting you. No more hospital visits, no more healing. He doesn’t even care enough to come after you himself. But he wants you to learn a valuable lesson. And I’ll be pleased to teach it to you.”

Quilava leaned in close. His breath was hot and pungent. It smelled of ash, and the metallic tang of blood.

“I’m going to kill you. I wonder what trophy I’ll bring back to him to prove you’re out of the way? Maybe one of your eyes.”

Quilava smiled, and spat on the top of the Linoone’s head. The saliva ran into both of his eyes, blinding him. He tried to raise his arms to wipe them clean, but Quilava knocked them away. Suddenly, a fist slammed into the left side of his face. It hit him like a train. He cried out. He hadn’t been prepared for the blow, and lost his balance. The world careened around him, and he span into the dirt. All sense of direction was confused, and he struggled to right himself.

He wiped his eyes, and opened them just in time to see another blow. It him him full on in the face, knocking him back down into the earth. His head rang as it stuck the ground, and pain cut through him like fire. Blood sputtered into his mouth. His ears roared. And something was wrong with his nose. It felt strange, unfamiliar, out of shape. Something was broken.

Another blow. He screamed, but all that came out was a pathetic gurgle. The pain was intense, and he was still reeling in shock from the first attack. He cut his tongue on a fragment of a broken tooth.

I have to do something!

There was a firm pressure on his chest. He tried to move, to get up, to do anything. But something stopped him. He was being held down. He pushed against Quilava with little success. And moving sent primal sparks of pain through his mind.

Another blow, and another.

I’m going to die.

Another blow.

Beneath Quilava’a grip, his body began to spasm wildly, his limbs jerking entirely of their own accord. His arms and legs slipped on the moist earth. The pain enveloped him like a cloak, dulling his senses. It was becoming hard to think of anything else. All that mattered was the pain.

The blows were coming in quick succession now. It was getting hard to keep track. His ears were filling with a warm liquid, muting the strange sounds of the world. He was so very tired.

What’s happening? Where am I?

Sparks swam before him, creating beautiful colours over his vision. Their trails left brilliant swirls and spirals. They were very pretty. The pain soared over other parts of his body, but it scarcely felt important now. He was captivated by the pretty lights.

So he hardly noticed when the load lifted off his chest. A wave of heat spiralled into him, reaching into the parts of his body Quilava’s paws had not yet touched. He was too tired to scream now. The pain was exquisite.

I’m going to die.

Lances of pain. He was being lifted, carried. The world spun, the lights before his eyes bloomed in strange detail, and then dimmed to blackness.

He hit water.

He gasped, and his mouth filled instantly. The fluid ran down into his lungs, choking him. He coughed, trying to expel the water. But it didn’t help, it couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe. His mind flared with panic. His body realised the desperate peril it was in and fought back, almost of its own accord. He pushed past the pain, desperately struggling against Quilava’s grip. His limbs broke water, thrashing foam. All that mattered now was air. Everything else was irrelevant.

But Quilava wouldn’t let him up. He felt his splashing get weaker and weaker until, eventually, he couldn’t fight any more. It seemed to take a long time. Time stretched. And finally, a greater darkness spread over his vision.

This is it. I’m going to die. I’m really going to die.

The realisation was a strange relief. At least now the pain would stop. He didn’t have to keep trying any more. He could let everything go. He found his whole body relaxing. A wave of supreme calm washed over him. He felt the sudden spark of a strange irony.

Coming here solved my problems after all.

The water in his mouth had a sweet taste. And he lost himself in the darkness ...

But something wouldn’t let him go. He waited for a long time, but nothing changed. There was a strange tingling on the edge of his consciousness. The water wasn’t sweet. It was sour. He felt his mind doggedly struggle back to reality.

But he wasn’t in the water any more. He was lying on his back, on sodden earth. The smell of blood and ash was in the air. The sense of wrongness was gone, and the pain had been reduced to a dull throb.

He felt dazed and confused. His head hurt.

What? How can this be?

More fluid splashed into his mouth. He recognised it now. It was Sitrus juice. Someone was trying to help him. His body was starting to feel his own again, but his limbs were stiff, and his face was somehow out of joint. His fur was brittle. The strange sense of calm he had felt in the water dissolved. He had to know what was going on.

He opened his eyes, slowly. For a moment, it was difficult to focus. The world swam in front of him, reds and greys and greens. And then ...

At any other time, he would have been petrified. But he was too tired, too shocked to come up with any emotional response other than simple acceptance.

“You’re awake. About time. Get up idiot, you’ve kept me waiting long enough.”

Charmander stood over him, the ruins of a Sitrus berry in his claws. Behind him, the sun glared fiercely.

“Get up, get up. We’ve work to do.”

Charmander leaned down, and sharply pulled the Linoone to his feet. He wobbled slightly. The fire type didn’t seem to notice.

He looked down at himself. His fur was a patchwork of black and crimson. In most places, it had been burned clean off. The skin below showed marks of intense burns, but the flesh felt cool. This was too much work for just a Sitrus berry. He wondered what else Charmander had fed him.

He noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly turned. Quilava was leaning against the nearby wall. His arms, legs, and head were covered with a savage crimson. It formed a trail on the ground. There was a knot of it a little ways in front of him. The blood mixed with the mud, forming a murky depression of black muck and torn grass.

It was strange to look at all of this and think that the blood had come from him. Quilava looked unharmed, but his arms and legs were elegantly bound. He had thought at first that the Pokémon was sleeping but, on closer inspection, it looked like he was unconscious.

“What are you gawking at?”

Charmander looked up at him.

“Quilava’s not going to wake up, not for a long time. He won’t cause any more trouble here.”

Charmander walked over to the Pokémon, talking over his shoulder.

“Quilava was a fool. I sent him after you, yes, but he wouldn’t back down. I wanted you returned to me. I didn’t want you dead. That thing wouldn’t understand a command if it hit him in the face.”

Charmander rummaged through Quilava’s bag, taking what few items he was carrying. He ripped the badge from the mercenary’s bag, stashing it away. Charmander muttered something, but he couldn’t make out the words.

Charmander turned away and walked back to him. The sunlight glared off the Pokémon’s own team badge, a pearly pink. He felt a strange, intense pressure building in his chest.

“It’s a good thing I caught on to his motives when I did. Otherwise you would be dead. I put a lot of things aside for you, Linoone. I had to put business in Treasure Town on hold to follow that stupid mercenary and chase you down.”

He felt his senses slowly begin to return. Charmander wanted him back. He had to get out of this, he had to find some way to escape from him. He had to say something.

“It was an accident, Charmander. I’m sorry.”

The Pokémon didn’t respond.

“I was teleported here when I ate some Warp Seeds. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I can return all the items I took ... although I’ll need to have access to the stores in town ...”

Charmander stared at him, and then burst into a humourless laugh.

“You’re a member of the team who has that gaudy base all shaped like a Mudkip, aren’t you? I thought they were fools. They’d have to be to take you on.”

Charmander’s gaze was intent.

“Are you healed? Can you travel?”

He was confused, unsure of what to say. He didn’t respond. Silence stretched for a long time.

Something changed on Charmander’s face. He rifled through his bag and found a Max Elixir, which he promptly handed to the Linoone. The last thing Lune wanted to do was drink, but he made a show of sipping from the bottle. And it did make him feel a little better.

“Look, Linoone, I ...”

Charmander winced.

“I’m ... sorry ... for what happened to you. But I need you to start thinking clearly. I need you to focus. Getting back to Treasure Town is not going to be easy, not with what Quilava has done. You might be an idiot, but you could at least help me.”

Lune stared blankly at Charmander. He tried to think of something to say, some way of letting him know that he wanted to stay here.

And then, without any warning of any kind, Charmander hugged him.

The leader of Guardians had a strong grip. Lune’s sore body complained about the pressure. But he found himself hugging Charmander back. He clutched his claws around the fire type’s back, feeling Charmander’s ragged scales beneath the remains of his fur. He held on to the Pokémon with a strange kind of desperation.

“I need you back with me, Linoone. You might be a moron, but at least you listen to me. At least you do what I tell you to do. My profits have taken a sharp turn since you’ve left. Raichu’s inconsolable. We’re losing contracts.

“Please, Linoone. I know you think you’re needed here. But Guardians needs you too. More than you know.”

Lune suddenly noticed that Charmander’s tail-flame was lit. No, it was blazing. He’d never seen the Pokémon’s flame so bright.

“And I need you, Linoone. You’re a friend, family ...”

Tears came to Lune’s eyes. But not because of what Charmander had said. He started sobbing against Charmander’s shoulders.

Because this couldn’t possibly be happening. Charmander would never speak like that. Charmander would never praise him. He wouldn’t show any kind of affection. And he wouldn’t ever light his tail-flame. It was a waste of energy. Efficiency was all that mattered.

His eyes swam with tears. Slowly, the world dissolved and was replaced with another. He opened his eyes to another vision of Wishcash Pond. It was still dark but, in the sky, a storm raged, thrashing the earth with rain. He was freezing and wet. He still felt groggy from the dream. No smoke rose above Pokémon Square.

And he was still crying. The dream had been terrible, but there was sometimes truth in dreams. His subconscious had told him what he had refused to accept himself. He knew the problem he was facing. And he knew with a terrible certainty what he had to do.

It didn’t make him feel any better.

And so he sat in the pouring rain, sobbing, the water mixing with his tears.

_____________________________________

XI : Charmander’s Search
_____________________________________


Death Note: Near’s Theme B:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyTv4KYtyzs


“And try to be a little more discreet this time, would you? It gets hard to believe that a Pokémon got caught in some unfortunate cross-fire when his entire store is burnt to ashes.”

Quilava’s gaze blackened.

“Yes. Sir.”

“Good. Then you can go.”

The mercenary stood still for a moment, then spun and stalked out of the team base. Charmander silently watched him leave.

Why do I have to work with such idiots?

Quilava was very effective at eliminating the targets he was assigned, but recently he had become too careless, too unpredictable. That had to stop. He couldn’t have Pokémon asking questions, or doubting his own motives the slightest fraction. Not this early, not before he’d set up a stronger economic position. Still, the Pokémon was an effective and sensible mercenary, in spite of his attitude. He knew his warning would be heeded. He’d already drastically limited the mercenary’s weekly wage to show his dissatisfaction with his performance, and he’d noticed that the effort had gotten through to the surly Pokémon.

At least I’ll have one less Kecleon to worry about by the end of the day.

His team bag was lying next to his bed. Charmander walked over to it and rummaged inside, producing a large and noisy set of keys. He walked over to one of the set of storage lockers that lined one wall of the base and worked with the intricate set of locks that guarded it.

He made sure that he had a regular timeslot set aside to analyse the Team’s activities. He found it important to file the new information that had come to light over the course of a week’s work. Putting the information down on paper allowed him to process it more efficiently. It allowed him to find links that he might otherwise miss, possible holes in his reasoning. And sometimes, new ideas came to him when he returned to an old problem after a period of time. New perspectives would emerge, whole new directions reveal themselves.

And there was much to think about at the moment. The local Kecleon had been controlling the local economy for far too long. Their ridiculous prices, especially in the shops they had set up in dungeons, had to be curtailed. He had the beginnings of a plan to deal with that. Their monopoly had to be smashed. But he would have to be careful, especially early on. The Kecleon brothers in Treasure Town were shrewd. They weren’t as smart as he was of course, not by a long shot, but he would have to do some delicate manoeuvring before he could properly steamroll them. Small dungeon-based merchants were one thing, but established merchants in a secure environment were quite another.

There had also been more reports in from the Guild that might help him to locate the remaining legendary Pokémon he had not yet encountered. Going against such Pokémon was lucrative work. Legendaries usually amassed vast amounts of treasure. It often came in the form of gifts from the Pokémon they protected, or those that worshipped or feared them, although at least some of their hordes would usually arise from foolish Pokémon who tried to battle them unprepared. Capital was important if he were to go against the Kecleon. Not to mention that legendaries were extremely powerful Pokémon that had almost no concept of how to actually use their abilities. They endangered the lives of countless numbers. Someone had to police that power. And it was difficult to monitor a threat if you couldn’t locate it.

Still, he had learned useful information this week. There had been reports of several sightings of Lugia. The Pokémon had been seen flying over a nearby town twice in a single day. Whatever the reason for the legendary’s journey, it provided him with ample information. There were plenty of reports. Corroborating the information about the direction, height and inclination of the legendary’s flight should give him more than enough information to locate where the legendary had flown from. There were only so many bodies of water. And locating where it was flying to might give him information he could use against the creature.

The final lock clicked, and the door sagged against the weight of the chains that constrained it. He swung open the locker to reveal neat rows of papers, carefully bound together and organised, along with several racks of books and calculating instruments. He reached for a particular set of papers, paused for a moment, then set them aside. He picked up a couple more piles, much smaller than the first, and then worked at closing the locker.

Using such a complicated set of locks was no longer a necessity, of course. Most Pokémon entering the base would be stopped by the simplest of locks. And Quilava wouldn’t be stopped by anything short of a puzzle box. He could always prevent the mercenary from breaking into his storage, of course, but it wasn’t in his best interests. Best that the mercenary think him unobservant, and underestimate him.

He’d set up the locks to keep out Linoone. The idiot had an amazing ability to get into places he shouldn’t, and he’d found to quite considerable cost that the Pokémon was able to get past simple locks. But the Pokémon was a simpleton, and would be stopped by tasks requiring him to think more than one or two steps ahead. That was besides the point now, of course. Linoone was gone. There was no need for all these locks. There was no need to waste his time. Perhaps he should consider removing some of his security.

He closed the last of the locks and returned the keys to the team bag. Then, he sat down a little way from the fire pit and spread out the papers in front of him, the largest pile closest to him. The paper on the top of the pile had only a single word written on it in a neat, precise script.

Linoone.

There was much to think about, but it could wait. The disappearance of Linoone was a thorn in his side, an unsolved problem that had troubled him for months. And he still had no leads, not the slightest hint of how to proceed. It was appalling. He hated being in such a position of ignorance. He knew there had to be a solution, some information he could use somewhere, but so far he had made absolutely no progress.

And it was vital that he did. It was frustrating to deal with a problem that had proven so difficult to solve, of course, but there were other factors that made dealing with Linoone absolutely imperative. It was a shame, he thought. At first, it had almost seemed the perfect solution. Linoone’s disappearance was absolutely mysterious. He couldn’t have arranged it better himself. The Pokémon had simply vanished without a trace. There were no links as to why, or even as to how. He was simply gone.

Raichu was concerned, of course, but she had been quick to accept her team member’s disappearance. If anything, her work and demeanour had improved since the Pokémon had gone. She had gained a new strength of will, and was performing her team work less poorly than usual. He guessed this was in part due to her trying to atone for some guilt that she felt at the idiot’s disappearance. But he suspected that she was working better primarily because she now only had to worry about herself. She didn’t have to drag that dead weight along with her.

And he no longer had to deal with the team member either. Raichu was the only reason he kept the thing around anyway, and here was a perfectly good event that had gotten rid of Linoone without even his intervention. He got to keep Raichu and be rid of Linoone. It was success all round.

But things weren’t that rosy. They never were. There had been consequences of Linoone’s disappearance. And they were hurting him and his business. There had been no way he could have kept Linoone’s disappearance a secret. Not with Raichu having full knowledge of the event. So he had let her tell the Pokémon in town. The news had been met with consternation and, much to his surprise, rescue events had been launched by both concerned amateurs, and by the Guild itself. They had returned to the place where Linoone had disappeared, but without success. He had launched his own ‘rescue’ missions too, to keep face, but to no avail.

Much to Raichu’s disappointment, the rescue attempts were called off about a week after they had started. Wigglytuff had called to tell the two of them in person, his usual cheerful demeanour in harsh contrast to the unfortunate message he had been trying to convey. The Guild have failed. This was an unsolved mystery.

And so the story just wouldn’t go away. Pokémon kept talking about Linoone, about his tragic disappearance. There was usually at least one conversation about the events going on whenever he was in Spinda’s Café. He still received the occasional card of condolence.

It was unacceptable, because it put Guardians squarely in the spotlight of the town. He was in the public eye more than he had ever been before. People payed attention to him, his team and his movements. That made it much harder to go about his business. Small details, like Quilava’s sloppiness, might be noticed be an inquisitive Pokémon.

Worse still, there were rumours going around that he had been behind the events after all. He heard them muttered by Pokémon in the café who thought he was too far away to hear. It was well known that he was not exactly the nicest of characters, and Pokémon all over town had noticed his harsh treatment of Linoone.

Why did I have to attack him in public? Idiot.

People speculated that he had been behind the disappearance, that he had taken Linoone into a remote part of a dungeon at night and killed him in a fit of rage. It was nonsense, of course, and many of the members of the town were only too ready to refute such rumours. He was the saviour of the whole world, after all. But the mere fact that such ideas were present beneath the surface, and that there was no way he could attack them himself without further information, meant that Pokémon doubted him. It made his real work all the harder if he was not accepted without question. And his profits were down by quite a substantial margin. More than he lost by Linoone’s presence.

As much as he disliked the idea, he needed Linoone back.

But he had no leads as to how to do that. He hated it. So he made sure to come back to this problem as often as was feasible during sessions like these. There was a solution somewhere, there had to be. He just hadn’t hit upon it yet.

So he lifted the first page on the pile, and began to read through the familiar words.

Linoone had disappeared just under six months ago. 161 days to be exact. A job had appeared on the Guild notice board offered by a Togetic that had gotten caught in a rockfall in Landslide Cave. He usually would have delegated such simple job, but the reward had been a Joy Seed, amongst other things. Such rewards were relatively rare, and so he had decided to take on the job himself. He took Raichu too, due to a lack of suitable missions for her that day. He couldn’t have her idling about. And, foolishly, he had decided to take Linoone as well, just on the idea that he could catch the stupid thing in a rockfall somewhere in the dungeon.

But he hadn’t needed to. Only three floors in, he had been fighting a Wormadam in Trash Cloak. Linoone had decided to do something stupid, and launch an Ice Beam at the Wormadam. He had an unerring ability to choose the least effective moves in most situations. And the beam hadn’t even hit the target, but struck him full on in the back instead. He hadn’t had time for such stupidity, and his anger had flared up. He had turned and launched a full energy Flamethrower back in the moron’s direction. He had warned Linoone about targeting him with ranged attacks on many occasions, and made a point of reminding him when he happened to forget. Which was often. But when the smoke had cleared, Linoone was gone.

He had assumed the idiot had used an Escape Orb by accident. After all, he was holding the bag containing the orbs and recovery items. He dispatched the Wormadam, which had only annoyed him all the more by getting in an attack while he was distracted, and then used one of his own Orbs to escape.

But Linoone hadn’t been back at the base. At the time, he thought that he had made an error of judgement. He’d assumed that Linoone must have used some other kind of teleportation, possibly Warp Seeds. Once again, the Pokémon had cost him a simple job because of its complete incompetence. He’d grown fantastically angry, so mad that he had had to take it out on something. He’d started on the barrels at the edge of the base, ripping them to shreds with his claws, throwing them out into the sea. Raichu had returned shortly after, but he barely saw her.

When he had finally calmed down, Raichu had returned. She had continued on the job for a while. She’d done quite a thorough search of the dungeon in the vicinity, apparently, in order to try to find an Escape Orb to follow him. She should have finished the job herself, of course, and he made sure that she was well aware of her mistake. But the crux of the matter was that Linoone had, somehow, teleported out of the reach of both himself and Raichu.

Raichu wouldn’t have missed him in the dungeon, he was sure of it. She liked the Pokémon too much, and would have heard the thing from miles away. And Linoone couldn’t have used an Escape Orb without him noticing. The Pokémon hadn’t been at the base when he had returned, and there were no tell-tale teleportation residues at the entrance. Linoone had just ... gone. If he had managed to control his anger better, all of this might have been resolved easily.

If only I had stayed ...

Had he not left the dungeon, he might have been able to examine the spot where Linoone disappeared, trace the disturbance caused by the teleportation. At least he would have had something to look at. The nature of the Mystery Dungeons meant that, as soon as a Pokémon left a particular floor, it was next to impossible to return to the same location again without some kind of marker. Once he and Raichu had left, there was simply no way for him to return to the scene of Linoone’s disappearance.

The information that place contained would have offered by far the easiest means of learning something about what had happened to the creature. Yet his own emotions had barred him from that permanently. It grated.

He could have used Linoone itself as a marker, of course. The team badge was a powerful item, linked with the others in its set. He had journeyed through the dungeon many times himself in an attempt to search for its telltale energy signature, but to no avail. The Guild had performed similar searches with no success. No shred of proof of Linoone’s presence had ever been found. Linoone was therefore not in the dungeon. He must have left. And that meant he could be anywhere.

The Pokémon did have some kind of brain, though, and probably would have used its team badge to return to him if the thing had gotten lost. The fact that it hadn’t meant that it was either dead (and he smiled a little at this thought) or being prevented from doing so somehow. The lack of any hint of energy output from Linoone’s badge in the nearby area, unfortunately, didn’t give the death theory much weight. And he couldn’t have travelled very far in a single teleportation.

That inevitably led to the conclusion that something or someone was deliberately holding Linoone against his will. Most likely something, although he could not think of what such a process could be. Linoone had to have travelled away from him, in that case, with the badge. Badges were hardy things, and didn’t just stop working.

But it was more likely than some kind of malevolent Pokémon. He doubted there was any Pokémon that could pull off a deception of this order, and fool him so completely. And he could think of no Pokémon that was that competent, and yet would want to abduct that idiot, of all things.

Except one. The Guardian.

The Dragonite had come to him that first day and asked him, in quite some detail, what had happened. The Draggie had seemed truly concerned for the first time he could recall, and that had worried him. Linoone’s disappearance had affected the Dragonite in a way more profound than any other disaster he had yet experienced. The Draggie claimed that he had no knowledge of Linoone’s disappearance. Worse, that he didn’t know the mechanism that had caused it, and that he couldn’t sense the Pokémon anywhere. He stressed the word anywhere in a way that seemed to imply a vast sense of scale.

That was impossible, of course. The Draggie’s powers were vast, almost limitless. There was simply no way that he couldn’t detect the presence of Linoone or his badge. So that meant several things. Either Linoone had left the region the Draggie could actively scan, which was impossible, or something or someone was actively blocking the Draggie’s detection, which was also impossible. That left the only plausible explanation.

The Guardian was lying.

That didn’t fill him with confidence. The Dragonite had lied before, of course, usually when trying to have some fun with him. He hated it with a passion, but it didn’t stop the Guardian from trying. It was possible, then, that the Dragonite knew full well where Linoone was, but was keeping it from him.

There was another possibility which he was forced to consider, too. There was always the possibility that the Guardian himself had taken Linoone, and was keeping him safe. He knew that the Dragonite had self-imposed limitations on how much he could interact with the world. It was to do with power, apparently, and making sure that he didn’t influence Pokémon’s free will to too great an extent. But he had never been sure exactly how far those limits extended. He tried to test them out, to probe them, but it was difficult. Since the Dragonite could affect his own memory and motives, as he had found to his cost, he could never be sure if he had ever actually pushed the Pokémon too far.

So, he didn’t know if the Dragonite would consider abducting the Pokémon a step too far. He might not. After all, Charmander knew full well that the Dragonite disliked the death of legendaries and important Pokémon. So much so that the Draggie had prevented him from killing legendaries that should, in his mind, be dispatched for the safety of all concerned. It was possible that the Draggie had felt compassion for Linoone, and spirited him away. After all, his disappearance had been during a violent event.

If that was the case, there was probably nothing he could do. The Guardian’s sheer power was as far above his and his own was above Linoone’s. There was simply no way he could go against the Dragonite. But there were ways that he could, perhaps, gain information that might, if not get Linoone back, at least give him information that he could work with.

The Dragonite was powerful, but there were other powerful Pokémon too. There were reports that he had been collecting for a long time of a Pokémon so powerful that it had, apparently, had a hand in creating the whole world. If the reports were to be believed, it had also created the three Pokémon of the Creation Trio. That didn’t exactly warm him to the thing. The Creation Trio were fools, and their master undoubtedly would be also. And the thing would be all the more dangerous too.

Arceus.

If it had a hand in creating the Universe, then the Pokémon must be extremely powerful. It wouldn’t be as powerful as the Guardian, he suspected, but it would be coming close. If nothing else, he could use it to rule out some of his competing theories. Arceus should be able to detect Linoone’s badge if it was somewhere beyond the extent of Team Guardians’ operations. It might be able to probe into the complex structure behind Landslide Cave, and give him vital information about what had happened during the first teleportation event. And it might, just might, be able to look past the Guardian’s defences, to see whether he was the one holding Linoone.

The difficulty was finding it. There had been no reported sights of the Pokémon, and there was precious little information about its abilities and powers. He had done some scouting to detect intense energy signatures, but to no avail. Ancient documents, perhaps just rumours, said that it spent most of its time sleeping between intense bursts of activity. If all that wasn’t bad enough, in order to fully make use of Arceus’s powers, he had to find the Pokémon without doing anything that would summon the Draggie.

He had kept his ears open for any information that might give him some sort of inroad into the problem. For instance, the suggestion that Arceus had formed the Creation Trio was something relatively new. He had picked it up several weeks ago from a Tome he had acquired on a raid of a fairly powerful semi-legendary. In essence, Arceus was a trio master. He suddenly thought of an analogy to Lugia. Yes, Arceus might be similar. Perhaps ...

Yes. That might just work.

This was why he returned to problems. New tangential information sometimes gave him volumes. Lugia was the master of the Legendary Birds, and would often appear to quell any arguments that arose among them. Lugia cared significantly about the trio it oversaw. Perhaps Arceus was the same. Perhaps he could use the Creation Trio to summon him. The idea was risky, and would involve much planning in order to limit the amount of damage that might be caused. In order to summon Arceus, he would have to do something terrible, something that would give it a jolt so violent that it would have to wake.

He had to get the trio fighting amongst itself.

The members of the Trio were fools, and despised each other. That should allow him to get all three Pokémon in the same place at the same time. For instance, he could travel to Temporal Tower, nominally to face Dialga. He doubted that the Guardian would see anything suspicious in that. After all, he had confronted the members of the trio before without his intervention. Whilst in the presence of Dialga, he could summon a small rift in space. It needn’t be large, but it would have to be crafted in a very specific way. He needed to create a spacial warp that would form itself into a Schwarzschild wormhole, punching through into Giratina’s realm. Both Palkia and Giratina would find this intolerable, and would come to investigate. Better yet, Palkia and Giratina would each assume the other was at fault, and fight each other. That made his life all the easier. All he needed to do then was to manipulate the fight to bring Dialga into the fray.

If it was necessary that some of the Pokémon die to summon Arceus, then so be it. The world would be safer if any of the three was dispatched. The Draggie had explicitly forbidden him to kill any of the legendaries, but if they died at each other’s hands, then he could not be blamed. The Draggie could not interfere in the natural course of events, after all. And even if the plan didn’t summon Arceus, he would at least be rid of some of the foolish creatures.

It was the first idea he had been able to come up with that might solve the problem. Of course, it was an extreme plan. He could only use it if he was absolutely certain that it would work. He would have to hunt for more sources of information about the links between the trio and their supposed master. He had to have more to go on than an analogy. And he despised the plan’s necessity to use those idiotic creatures. But it was a start.

He took a pen from the team bag, took several clean pages from the base of the pile, and began methodically to write down the very first stages of the plan, including the information he would need before he could set it into operation.

So it was with quite significant annoyance that he noticed the covering at the entrance to the team base being drawn back, and a Pokémon entering without his authorisation. It was clearly trying to be quiet too, and was incompetent enough to be failing more or less completely. He narrowed his eyes, but kept writing. He needed the intruder to think the he had not noticed their –

Oh. Raichu.

He didn’t wait for her to finish coming down the stairs. He didn’t turn, or stop writing.

“Raichu. This is my planning session. I have told you that I am not to be disturbed. You have a mission to perform. Leave.”

He heard her stop, hesitate for a moment.

“But Char, I’ve ... I’ve ... there’s something ...”

He frowned, but kept writing. He tried to let every ounce of the hatred he felt show in his voice.

“Don’t make me tell you again. Leave. Now.”

He heard Raichu turn on her heels, and run at full pace out of the base.

Good.

But it was worrying. Raichu had been getting confident lately. That was useful from the point of view of her work, but it was dangerous in all other aspects. She had started making forays into the town, going to Spinda’s Café all by herself. Now that she didn’t have Linoone to distract her, she was getting less socially shy.

He had to curtail that as soon as possible. He couldn’t have Raichu becoming more independent. Particularly now that Linoone was out of the way, there was less incentive for Raichu to stay with the team. He doubted she would ever leave, of course. There was something that bound her to him, something he didn’t really understand. Not that it mattered what the reason was, so long as she kept working with him. But she was most effective when she was easy to control, easy to deceive. That would be harder if she allowed other Pokémon to start broadening her horizons. He needed her naïve. This deliberate attempt to go against his orders was the first, but he doubted it would be the last.

Why do I have to work with such idiots?

He glanced over at one of the other piles of paper that he had brought out of the locker. The name Raichu was written on it in a neat script. It conveyed less emotion that the pile of paper set aside for Linoone. He felt his annoyance deepen. He had yet more to plan. There was always something to do.

He worked with a slow, methodical pace, planning his next moves in meticulous detail. And out through the jaws of the team base, the morning sun gently rose above the vast expanse of the beautiful sea.

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<The story continues here.>

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