Author’s Note/Disclaimer: Again, me no own FFIX or He-Man, wish I did. Not much to say about this one, rather a short chapter.

Chapter 8: Mirakris' People

The way was easy going, with soft grass under their feet and gentle weather. Beautiful, exotic birds flew in the sky, and strange animals popped up here and there, causing the mages to look and point in amazement. And after two hours of walking, they reached the town.

It was small, perhaps one thousand people or so, maximum, most appearing as farmers and the like. It was the type of town that fended for itself, with most of the 'trade' being in the form of the citizens bartering with each other for daily needs.

"Very self sufficient, it seems," Zentarou commented after a seemingly expert glance. "But it appears the citizenry are most certainly nothing like any of us." Indeed, now that they could get a good look, they saw that the entire populace, although human-like in build and face, were a bit taller and all sported distinctive, butterfly-like, gossamer wings. Some wings were long and slender, others more like the traditions butterfly wings, but each set rose to about six inches or so above the head, to level out even with the back of the knees, and each was uniquely colored. But not one of the people flew; rather, the wings were folded upon the back, though the observed a flutter here and there.

Suddenly they heard a small gasp. The four mages looked over to see a small group of five children, three boys and two girls, looking at them. The girls quickly fled into the town, while the three boys bravely got between the mages and their fleeing playmates, and drew out wand-like apparatuses of wood, wrapped with silver and copper. Dregan held up his hands in a non-threatening manner.

"Who, easy kids. We're not going to hurt you." Still the boys pointed the wands at them. Then the tips of the wands began to glitter.

"Trolly-molly!" Orko squeaked. Zentarou quickly got in front, reaching into his pouch on his hip.

"I've got this handled. Get behind me, brothers." They opened, and as the spells, or whatever they were, went off, he called, "Life Aura!" A pale blue bubble, licked with flames of the same hue, encased the cat mage, and the three bursts of offensive magic fizzled against it. The boys, eyes wide, fled. Zentarou dropped the spell, returning the spare jewels to his pouch.

"Are you sure that was wise?" Dregan asked. "They were only boys. Surely their spells couldn't have been so powerful as to hurt us?"

"Perhaps not, but consider this: If children so young can cast, then the entire race could be magic users. After all, this Mirakris must have been decently powerful to create the emerald. If there are other such casters, a show of our own power might at least buy us a few moments to talk to them. Plus, if one of those spells had hit Vivi, it would have reflected back and hit the kids."

"You're quite a strategist," Orko complimented. Zentarou grinned.

"My brother's the strategist. I just foresee cause and effect. But we're got company." Five adults, all men, were cautiously approaching, each one wielding gold and silver wands, pure metal, with rough-cut rubies in the tips, which were pointed at them. Zentarou stepped to one side and back a bit. "Dregan, act as our leader. Make it seem as if you're the one to deal with. It'll seem less threatening."

"Okay." Dregan stepped forward a bit, to separate him from the others a bit more, attempting to alter his bearing to a more lordly or commanding one. And he didn't do that bad of a job. The other Bretheren heard him mutter, "Thanks, Ev," before saying to the men, "Hello. We mean you no harm." The five butterfly-winged men looked at each other, puzzled.

"Great," muttered Vivi. "A language barrier."

"No worries," replied Zentarou quietly, "if we can only get them to talk."

"They don't seem to want to chat," Orko replied to that. Dregan had apparently realized the same thing, for he shifted his tactics. Very slowly, he knelt and laid down his staff, but was careful to keep it out of their reach, just in case. Then he also unfastened his sword belt and let it drop. Then he stood, and held his hands out wide, palms showing.

"We are no threat to you," he repeated. "We are travelers. The dragon Natarstreyk brought us here." There was some reaction as the dragon's name, which Dregan was prudent enough to not repeat in full, but still there was no comprehension of the rest of what he said. "Blast it, nothing." Orko carefully stepped up slightly behind Dregan.

"Here." He pressed the emerald into Dregan's hand. "Show it to them. Maybe they'll recognize it." Dregan discreetly nodded, taking it. Then he showed it to them.

"Natarstreyk." He pointed to the sleeping dragon's image. He suddenly smiled. "This was made by Mirakris." The name definitely had a reaction, as the five lunged forward on the attack.

Vivi and Orko quickly yanked Dregan's sword and staff away from the men, as two had attempted to grab them, and Zentarou drew his sword to aid in any defense. But abruptly none of them could move, and the men began to disarm them.

Trolly-molly! Orko thought. A spell! I can't move! Suddenly one of them looked at the little red robed mage.

Ah! At least one of you I can understand.