Arms of the Angels: Chapter Six~ Loss

      “Run!” Rang shouted, lifting the unconscious Reshiram onto his black shoulders and dashing for the safety of the trees. He was glad to see, looking back down from a ledge on the mountain, that the Rhyperior and Porygon-z did not give chase, though the Rhyperior smirked and whispered something between to the Porygon-z, who nodded. They both looked up at Rang, and he thought he could see ambitious greed in the Rock-type Pokémon’s eyes. Taking no chances, Rang heaved Snowfall further onto his back and continued climbing the craggy mountain.

      Snowfall woke a little later, staring blindly at the starry skies above her in a small grove of trees on the mountainside. Sitting up, she found that her wing-shoulder had bruised from where the Rock Blast had hit it that afternoon. The blind Reshiram stood up on both footpaws, listening for the sound of her friends. Surely they wouldn’t leave me? She thought. But the rustling of a tail sweeping the ground came to her ears.
      “Snow?” came the voice of Rang.
      The blind dragon turned in his direction. “There you are! ...Where’s Clover?”
Rang shrugged before walking up to his friend and rubbing a salve of mixed herbs into her shoulder. “Dunno. She’ll turn up somewhere, though. She always does.”
      Inwardly Snowfall appreciated all that her friends had done for her in the fortnight they had been traveling together. The two weren’t bothered at all with the special needs Snowfall brought, being blind.
      “That better?” the black dragon asked her.
      Snowfall smiled and blushed slightly from behind her snowy feather-fur. “Yeah,” she breathed.
      After a moment, Rang shook himself and said sheepishly, “Well.... We’d better be getting over this mountain. Granted, if we lose Clover our whole reason for coming here’ll be for naught.....” Rang continued to mutter to himself as he began to climb the slope, Snowfall following his voice, the two determined to reach a destination that would never come.


      “Slow down!”  called Snowfall from several paces below Ranguvar as they clambered up the rocky slope. The Zekrom stopped and waited for his friend to catch up. Once they were both at the same altitude, Rang lent a helping paw and pulled Snowfall over onto another ledge. Both panting slightly, (Snowfall a little more so), both dragons glanced around at the new scenery found on the ledge.
      There was a vast outcropping that leaned onto the north side of the mountain, with straw-like grass and small weeds poking out through the dry soil. There was a magnificent view of the land below and the stars in the early night sky.
      Looking round, Rang noticed that Snowfall was breathing hard; the altitude, combined with her inability to see the pawholds and obstacles, were obviously taking their toll on her. With a jolt, Ranguvar remembered his home, and realized that while he grew up in the mountains of the kingdom of Bellator, Snowfall most likely had little experience with the pressure change. Rang turned to the cliffs and contemplated for some time whether to carry on, try to find Clover, or camp here for the night. But when he faced Snowfall to ask her preference, he was surprised to find her sulking.
      “Oh, what’s the use?” she muttered, her sightless blue eyes fixed on oblivion. “I don’t even know what I’m fighting for anymore.”
      Rang didn’t really know what to say; the meaning of their journey was lost on him too. Finally, he answered, “Well...... Why can’t we travel just for the fun of it?”
The Reshiram already knew her answer. “Because I can’t.”
      “..... Can’t? What?”
      Snowfall sighed, slightly annoyed, and told her friend about her life back in the Valley and how the silver Deerling had lead her twice to a destination. She also spoke of the warning that the Xatu had given the villagers, reciting the poem the bird had spoken as best as she could.
      The Zekrom paused for a moment to process what he had heard.  “Hmm...” he said finally,  “’There are three.....’ Then it jumps down to being two. ‘The bells will ring, a warning sign.....’ And then it talks about one....... I really have no idea,” he finished.
      If Snowfall could, she would have rolled her eyes at his chosen conclusion. They sat in silence for many moments, both immersed in their own thoughts and worries. It was Rang who broke through the quiet with a question.
      “So.... What’s it like being blind?” he asked, with the bluntness of a table knife.
      If he had been expecting Snowfall to be offended, she wasn’t; the Reshiram smiled bitterly. “I wouldn’t know, I guess. It’s all I’ve ever known, darkness.”
      “Oh,” said the Zekrom in response. Inwardly he felt awkward as he glimpsed a blue shooting star flash through the sky, knowing that she couldn’t—wouldn’t ever—be able to see it as well. There was a pause, before Rang spoke again.
      “We had a blind elder back in my homeplace. She was probably one of the bravest creatures you’d ever meet.”
      “Really?” asked Snowfall conversationally.
      Rang laughed at a memory that had surfaced in him mind. “Yeah, she was great. An awesome healer. She got her eyes scratched in a battle against the Braviary clan, and so she went blind. But she didn’t mind one bit. She said it made life more interesting. I can remember how she’d always joke to Father about extensive and loopy remedies for all kinds of common ailments.” He smiled. “One time she told him that he had caught fire fever and that he had to lay low for a day, and when he came back to his place they had set out a feast for Nameday. Boy, he didn’t like that.”
      “Who’s your father?” Snowfall followed up, turning to face the direction of his voice.
      “King Russano,” he answered proudly. “King of Bellator.”
      “Bellator...?” the Reshiram responded; she didn’t seem to be impressed by the knowledge of her friend’s origin. To her, what a Pokémon chose to become was all that mattered in life. “That’s one of the four kingdoms, right? Reckshire, Auroriis, Fidei, and Bellator.”
      Rang nodded. “Yeah, they’re each ruled by a kind of Dragon-like family. Let’s see... There’s kingdoms of Reshiram, Haxorus, Lucario, and my father’s, of Zekrom.”
      “I see,” she responded shortly, leaving Rang wondering if he had said something wrong. He waited for Snowfall to say something, not knowing what was right for the moment.
      Finally, he said, “Stars sure are pretty tonight,” but regretted it immediately.
      To his surprise, Snowfall smiled brightly. “Mama Lati always said that the night sky is vast and beautiful beyond words. Is it really like that?”
      Rang took some time before answering. When he did, he chose his words carefully. “I wouldn’t call it ‘beautiful beyond words.’ I would just say that it seems so infinitely huge that we can’t comprehend it all.”
      “But what’s it like?” she asked fervently, head tilted up toward the stars as if she could really see them.
      The Zekrom smiled sheepishly. “Well, the sky is dark and, er, stretches out farther than even the sun and the moon. Everywhere you look, there’s this vast canvas of sky and stars, gazing down at us from eternity. At least, that’s what my mother always used to tell me.”
      “It sounds pretty.”
      Rang nodded. “Almost as pretty as—“

      “GERONIMOOOOOO!!!!”
      “What the...!? Oomph!”

      Rang had toppled over as something small and green had dropped with considerable force on top of his head. Upon opening his eyes he found himself staring into the pair of blue orbs that belonged to Clover the Shaymin.
      “You...!?” he bellowed, as the Gratitude Pokémon sniffed indignantly and returned to her usual cocky manner.
      “I have to say, your rocky head is most unsuitable for a lady to land on.”
      Rang was speechless with indignation at the ruining of a ‘perfectly good moment,’ and the silence between the Zekrom’s stutterings and Clover’s self-satisfied grin was only broken when Snowfall, who was smiling with suppressed laughter, suggested that the three settle down for the night, and continue making their way to the flower garden at dawn.
      Since neither of the others had any objection to the proposal, the party bedded down, and only rose when the sun was just beginning to rise into the sky behind a bank of storm clouds. In fact, it was almost as if the daytime had never come at all. This was never a good sign.


      “See?” encouraged Clover as the trio edged along the path that wound slowly up the mountain. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
      “I never said there was anything.” Answered Rang, still fuming over an argument that he and the Shaymin had so avidly quarreled over earlier that morning, in which Snowfall was left to make peace between the two.
      “I don’t know why I don’t just flatten you with a Stomp attack,” the Zekrom muttered. “And get off my head!” he snapped.
      Clover, who had taken to hitching rides on Ranguvar’s cranium, shrugged his demand off as if it were just a side comment of no real importance.
      “The reason I ride here is so that if we get attacked again, you’ll be captured before me.”
      “And what if I decide to throw you off, huh?”
      “If you did that I’d just fly away and leave you fend for yourself.”
      “Pfft. Ten to ten I’d beat all those skurly enemies. And you can’t fly!”
      “Of course I can. We just need to go to the flower garden so I can show you.”
      “Here you go again with this flower garden mumbo jumbo. How in the name of Lord Keiss will flowers help a Pokémon to fly?”
      “It’s a well-kept secret, among us legendary types…… You wouldn’t understand!”
      “I’m a dragon! That’s way more legendary than a common flower-mouse. And besides, I can fight much better than you can. In fact, I haven’t even seen you fight! I’d bet you’d run away all coward-like if you had to fight.”
      “Guys?”
      “No way! I could beat you anytime if I could just activate my Seed Flare.”
      “Hey guys?”
      “If you can only battle sometimes than it won’t be enough anytime! That’s what Colonel Shakka always used to say! Moves are worthless if you can’t rely on them one hundred percent of the time!”
      “Says the Pokémon who ran from a group of Skarmory, who I might add had a type disadvantage against you.”
      “I didn’t run! I just—“
      “GUYS!” shouted Snowfall, ending the long chain of dialogue. Both of her companions looked at the place her sightless eyes rested upon, her ears keen to the sounds of the scuffles on the spot where the path rose up to a flat outcropping, with the edge of the mound dropping down some thousand feet into rocky oblivion. “I don’t think we’ll be able to run from them.”
      For there, as Snowfall’s other senses had detected, was the gang of seemingly ‘artificial’ Pokémon, including the Porygon-Z, Rhyperior, and an assortment of creatures like Garbodor, Electrode, Machamp, and Golurk.
      The Machamp turned to the Rhyperior, an amused smirk on his face. “Whad’da’ya say, boss? Should we net ‘em?”      
The Rhyperior’s gaze bored into the three travelers. His granite hand-paws ground into each other as he rubbed them together while he thought. “Nah,” he answered finally, without taking his eyes from Ranguvar, Snowfall, and Clover.  “I think we should read ‘em their rights first. Then we’ll bash this playground.”
      The three looked at each other, fear in their eyes. They were using words and phrases that none of trio was aware of ever hearing.  Net, read their rights, playground....... Why did they talk like this? They seemed to think this was funny, giving the opponent a fair shot; a few smirked. But before any of the three could do a thing, the boss whispered a hushed command to his cohorts, sending them into action. “Let’s give ‘em a Verse of a time.” And to the Machamp he added on a aside before the two charged into the fray, “And gimme the white one. There’s something familiar......”

      “FLY!” Rang shouted, and he revved up the motor in his tail, preparing to soar away with a shaking Clover still on his head, but stopped when he saw that Snowfall wasn’t moving.
      In fact, she was moving. She was spinning all around, trying to get her bearings. In the chaotic scrambling of the advancing foes, she had lost her most valuable sense: sound. Rang, hovering a few feet above the ground, was faced with a choice. It was one of those choices that come along rarely, the kind in which the right thing and the thing that’ll save your rear are on completely different sides of the puzzle. Undoubtedly, Rang dipped down and tried to get the Reshiram flying. The enemies were upon them before they could do a thing.
      Clover once again lost in the midst, Rang the Zekrom tried fighting, tried with every fiber of his being, but stopped, horrorstruck, when one of his electric attacks hit Snowfall square in the side of the head. With none fighting, it was a breeze for the foes to grab each of them in strong paws and hold them tight for inspection from the boss.
      A small voice in Ranguvar’s head, whether simply common sense or some higher power, whispered, “Tell them nothing, nothing at all......” The Zekrom gulped. He was getting a weird sense of déjà vu.
      The Rhyperior chief inspected him first. Rumbling up to where Rang was being held by the reeking Garbodor (in both senses of the word), he presumed to interrogate the dragon. Though Rang knew it necessary to appear harmless, nothing that he or his foe could do could diminish the fire kindling in his eyes.
      “Yes,” the Rhyperior was saying in a deep, rumbling voice. “You. Where are you from?”
      The captive had his answer ready, dreamed up from the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. “I am from the Penumbral Skold. My father is a smokesmith in the iron forge near there.”
      “Hmm, yes.” the Rhyperior mused. I expect your father’ll give up a fair amount for you, in ransom. Our masters would like that, and reward us well in return.”
      If Ranguvar were a Mightyena, (whose ears often did so), his ears would be folded back in both disgust and alarm. “’Masters?’ Pokémon serve no master.”
      The Rhyperior laughed heartily. “You serve no master? You’re obviously not from the Mainlands, are you?”
      Rang bared his fangs. “Tell me then, who do you serve?”
      The Rhyperior glared at the captive Zekrom. “Our masters are the humans. Our order is to plunder the northlands, take the treasures and any Pokémon that might be useful. We have to bring down anyone who is dangerous to us.  And speaking of dangerous......”
      He turned from Rang as if the Zekrom was a new toy that now bored him so, and walked up to the Machamp, who had Snowfall tight in his four-armed grip.
      Rang, seeing what was ahead, struggled desperately to escape from the Garbodor, but the Trash Bag Pokémon released a foul, poison smell that the Zekrom slouched in its grip, coughing.

      “So, pretty, do you know why I’m talking to you?” played the Rhyperior.
      Snowfall’s teeth were bared as she snapped instinctively at the air, unable to judge with her sightless blue eyes. “Get away, you fool, and out of the Lost Land forever!”
      The Rhyperior didn’t like her cheek. He responded blatantly, “Then I won’t tell you. You probably don’t know yourself.”
      “You’re skards right I don’t! Every piece of idiocy you have that I don’t is blessing.”
      The boss smiled. “You’re absolutely right. You don’t know. And for that reason it’ll be all the more easier to dispose of you.”
      Several things happened at once, all in a single moment. Ranguvar, realizing what was about to happen with wide eyes, jackknifed out of the Garbodor’s grip while the creature’s attention was on the scene, and charged for the Pokémon holding Snowfall. The Machamp, following orders with a smirk on his face, put immense pressure on the Reshiram’s skull with all four arms before tossing her aside, aside to the edge.......

      For Ranguvar, things seemed to be happening in slow motion. Had he made it in time, he would never have had to see what he saw. Snowfall’s unconscious body freefell down the mountain, the beautiful white feather-fur upon her wingtip catching a rock and breaking open a small seam of life, and silver-white Energy was flowing from the wound, a wound that would eventually drain her of Energy, of blood, of life.......


      He was numb. The sound of Clover’s sobs as she was being pressed to the ground by the Golurk’s footpaw, the pressure of the altitude on his ears, the jerking of his body as the Machamp pulled him to his feet and shackled him...... All was lost on Ranguvar. Now, here, everything.... was gone.

      “Move it,” grunted the Machamp as he was shunted into motion. At that time Ranguvar felt he had lost everything. Though funnily, sometimes the event of hitting rock bottom can leave you with a drive to accomplish what needs to be done. And Ranguvar knew what he needed to do. His mission. He would stop the humans from invading his homeland and extract his revenge for Snowfall in the process.


      Picking up a round pebble with chained paws, the Zekrom engraved into the rock these six words, every stroke releasing some kind of new determination into his body, as if he were truly setting his beliefs in stone. He paused to look at the words as the shackles dug into his wrists. Six small words that meant big things for the future of Pokemon.

Rang will make the men pay