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mikkenekoTitle: The Heralds of the White God chapter 12 - Homesick
Rating: M
Warnings: Sexual content in this chapter.
Summary: In which Sakura wishes she could return home, and Fai wishes he never had to.
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The old castle was in ruins, far more decrepit and decayed than its age should have allowed. It had only been forty years since it had been abandoned, Fai thought, as his feet lighted on the top stairs leading up to the main gate, but it looked like no one had lived there for centuries.
Certainly the old king had done little to maintain the property in the last years of his madness, and its invasion and siege at the hands of Ashura's army hadn't been good for it either. Nor had the riots that followed, well after everyone in the palace was long gone or dead. Fai had only heard about those, not seen them first hand, but he could see the evidence of destruction on the walls and paving stones; the entire place had been sacked, everything of even marginal value looted, and that which was not valuable was torn down or fired. Not the depredation of invaders but the unleashed fury of Valeria's own people had destroyed this place.
The Viceroy of Ceres hadn't even bothered trying to take possession of the crumbled ruins; the provincial Ceresian government had built a new block of buildings on the other side of the capital, and ruled from there. Not only did he thus avoid the hubris of setting himself up as a king of this conquered land, but he avoided the stigma associated with the tainted blood of the old royal family - Fai's family.
At least, Fai thought as he strode forward across the cracked paving stones, he was unlikely to be interrupted. It was not just the decimation of the riots; there was an unhealthy aura about the place, something rotten and foul hovering about the crannies and corners. No subject of Valeria came here anymore, and Fai didn't blame them.
He hesitated for a long moment in the court, at the shadowed patch of stone beneath the remains of the castle's tallest tower. Reluctantly, though, he shook his head and hurried on, a sharp breeze whipping the ends of his hair into his face as he bent his head against it. He was here on business, today, not to indulge old morbid fascinations.
His destination lay not in the ruined keep itself, but in the extensive green grounds attached to it, past the stables and gardens that once would have been maintained to provide fodder for the castle in case of siege. They were overgrown with moss, now, weeds and briars choking the once carefully tended beds, but there was less evidence of looting here; there was nothing to steal, and little that would burn.
He arrived in the great cemetery tucked behind the hill of the keep. Most of the marble monuments were swallowed by grass; only the greater mausoleums still stood. Fai had never been here before; he studied the curling Valerian script on nameplate as he walked the rows between the graves, looking for the one he sought.
At last he found the right one, a large and imposing mass of marble. For a monarch, even a fallen one, it was humble; yet considering how feared and hated the old king had been amongst the people of Valeria, it was a testament only to Ashura's firm discipline that even this monument had been erected to house his body. Ashura sympathized with the suffering of the Valerian people, but was firmly of the opinion that a king - even an evil one - must be afforded dignity, lest the people lose all respect for the kingship. And so he had built this crypt to house the last dead king of Valeria, and ordered a death sentence on any would-be grave robbers who thought to despoil it.
A ghost of a smile twitched its way across Fai's face, then vanished. Which was precisely what he was here to do, wasn't it?
The slab of stone blocking the door was solid and heavy, but Fai's demon-granted strength was enough to move it aside. The gust of air that came up from inside, fetid with the breath of the grave, was enough to send him shivering all over and darkened his vision with old terror, but he clenched his teeth together and forced himself to step down into the crypt.
Inside, it wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought. The doorway let in plenty of light, and left a clear path of escape for the twitching muscles that demanded he flee. The crypt itself wasn't large; only the marble walls and a small area of bare sanded floor, and the plinth on which the old king's coffin lay.
He heaved aside the heavy stone lid, and the body within was revealed. Although Fai had steeled himself for emotionless detachment - he'd handled many dead bodies over the years, in various stages of decomposition - he still couldn't stop the shudder that went up his backbone as the light spilled over the skull within, draped with cobwebs, decaying flesh, and the rusted remains of his burial jewelry.
For a fascinated moment he studied the skull, the face that he barely remembered from his early childhood as anything more than a long flowing beard under a heavy crown. He could almost see the resemblance, in the cheekbones and jaw, of his own face to his father's.
No, he shook his head sharply, to the king's. He had vowed to be very careful, even in his own thoughts, to maintain that distance; to think 'the old king,' and nothing else. Truly, the only man who had ever been a father to him was Ashura; and it was for Ashura's sake that he'd come.
Taking a deep, careful breath, Fai straightened up and set to work. From an insulated compartment of his bag he drew out his materials, and scattered them in a careful circle around the coffin. They scattered with the sound of dry snakeskin slithering, and Fai began to chant the words of the incantation, drawing the bright rune-words in the air above.
His thoughts calmed and settled as he became more involved with the ritual; although he'd never been fond of necromancy as a discipline, the practice of magic always helped him feel more grounded and centered. It provided an order to his world, and a reassurance that he still had some power to wield in the face of fate.
At the same time, he really didn't like necromancy. It always felt like he was digging his fingers into something unclean, something soft and rotting, although the spell didn't require him to physically touch the corpse at all. The light streaming in through the open mausoleum door seemed to darken, and panic fluttered in his chest but couldn't make it past the intense wall of his concentration. Calling a spirit so old, so damaged back to its body was difficult, and he wasn't completely sure he'd be able to do it.
Necromancy, the art of summoning and speaking with the honored dead, had been developed in more than one culture before. It was a common human trait to want to be able to speak with those who had gone before, to consult with their wisdom and experience as well as to reassure themselves that there was still something for them after death. The usual rituals involved fresh sacrifices of animals - either burning the meat or spilling the blood on the ground - often mixed with sugar or alcoholic spirits to entice the desired ghost to draw near. It was not just magic but a cultural ritual for them, and it didn't always work; the ghost would often refuse to appear, either dissatisfied with the offerings or simply because it had already passed out of the world and on to the next life.
The wizards of Ceres had studied several different necromantic traditions, seeking the rules and structures behind the art and discarding aesthetic or useless elements. Sugar and blood were still present, mixed in with pungent smelling herbs and strewn into the magic circle and over the targeted corpse; but the power of the spell depended on the logos, the rule-words which defined and bound the spirits of the dead. The result was a streamlined, strengthened arcane magic which did not depend on the whimsy of spirits; as long as the ghost was still in the world and its body was available they could force it to appear, obey, and answer.
Perhaps that, Fai mused, was why necromancy was so distasteful to him; it turned what had once been a person into a thrall, chaining not only their body but their very soul to the will of the caster. The control was irresistible, absolute - as long as the will and the power of the summoner lasted. If he was not sufficiently strong of will, or if something happened to disrupt the ritual, then his own soul could be bound to the ghost that he sought to compel, ripped out of his body and dragged to the netherworld. It was the reason that very few of Fai's fellow wizards had delved too deeply into necromancy; besides himself, there were only one or two others with the skill to attempt a summoning this difficult. And no others with the right.
Luminescent green wisps swirled up from the marble floor like fog rising from a pool, flowing to cover the stone plinth and spill into the open coffin. Tiny, almost invisible sparks of darkness flickered through the currents of light as it absorbed the essence of the old king's bones. Then, with a wrenching wail that seemed to be dragged up from a bottomless cavern, both darkness and light rose up into the air before Fai, resolving into a miniature human figure hanging in the space above the coffin.
It was hard to pick out distinctive features; the image was distorted and grainy, like a print in a book that had long gone to mildew. The ghost of the old king writhed and gibbered, but there was no coherency or meaning in its speech. Fai felt a moment of doubt, and rechecked the boundaries of his spell, thinking he might have made a mistake; but no, the invocation was perfect. The ghost was simply lost to thought and language, as the old man himself had been before he died. Fai had not seen it, but he'd heard stories - how the old king's descent to madness had reached its final stage in the hours before his death, losing even the power of human speech and able to make no more than the guttural noises of an animal.
That was all right. The answers Fai had come for would not have come from the King of Valeria's mouth, after all. He spread his hands wide, holding the summoning with a corner of his attention while his hands began to weave the runes of a secondary spell inside it. This new invocation was pure wizardry, rune-words and formulas meant to address the weave of magic itself without having to interface with any contrary human spirits. It was a call for magic to reveal itself, to articulate and illuminate any past enchantments or spells attached to the decaying spirit.
The ribbon of white light spilled from his hands like a flowing stream of water, and spun around the ghost of the old king in a hazy cloud. Slowly it began to resolve itself, the dim luminescence coalescing into moiré patterns of bright lurid green.
Fai regarded those symbols grimly, their blazing green patterns blazed into his mind. He could have checked against the diagrams that he and Yukito had mapped out, in their grueling work over King Ashura's body in the sickroom in Ceres, but he didn't need to. They were the same. Exactly the same.
As the curse of madness, of consumption, had also been the same.
It was as he had suspected from the very first hour, but he had never been quite sure; he'd needed to confirm it, and now he had. Two rulers, two kingdoms, forty years apart, but the telltale residue of the enchantment used by the same. The one on Ashura was stronger; an improved version perhaps, with enough sheer magic poured into it to overpower even the stronger of wills, and the timeframe drastically compressed. But the corrosive effects of insanity, the degeneration of reason and the accelerated forces of avarice and hunger, were born of the very same curse, cast by the same wizard.
Our enemy, Fai thought. So it was him. Even back then, it was him. The master warlock who from hundreds of miles remote had murdered Kurogane's mother and exposed his home to the ravages of demons; who had stolen Sakura out of her very chambers. His fingerprints, his stench, was the same in every place they looked. And how many Valerian souls, slaughtered and rendered and ground into meal at the mad king's behest, had gone to feed the furnace of their enemy's power?
Enough of this; he had what he needed. Fai raised his hands and broke the humming invocation supporting the spells. First his finder-spell, the light scattering in all direction; then the summoning that constrained and manifested the ghost. The old man's gibbering face vanished in a puff of dust, and the daylight returned. Finally, Fai was able to spare a hand to wipe the streaming sweat from his face, stinging in his eyes.
Fai turned and walked out of the mausoleum, not even bothering to replace the coffin lid or the marble door. His head was swimming with the implications of what he'd just confirmed, still struggling to wrap his mind around the scale, the sheer audacity of what they'd stumbled into.
Demons in Suwa, cannibal kings in Valeria. In both cases he had stayed in the background and let others do his work; letting the Master of Demons hunt souls for him in Nihon, and the King of Valeria order his own subjects to the cooking pot here. Both projects had failed, his puppets brought down and killed, and yet their silent backer remained distant and unaffected, glutted with the harvested souls of his slaughtered victims.
Fai was willing to bet that was only the smallest part of their enemy's enterprise. Distance was nothing to a warlock; how many similar projects had he set up in other countries, Autozam, Hanshin, Clow, maybe even more distant still? He'd verifiably been active for at least fifty years, but that wasn't the sort of magic that you learned overnight; he must be far, far older than that. How long had this been going on, his hidden, subtle network extending through countless distances and years?
A human soul, he'd once told Kurogane, is the strongest natural source of magic in the world. How many centuries, from how many countries had their enemy been hoarding souls? Just how much power had he gathered by now?
Enough to destroy the world? Easily.
He barely noticed the ruins of the crumbling castle as he made his way back to the gates, still lost in thought. There was something else that worried him, a thought he'd barely dared to voice to his fellow wizards before he'd departed on this grisly errand.
There were many different kinds of magic in the world, some well understood, some not. That their enemy was a warlock was manifest in the astonishing control he'd shown over space and time, projecting portals across vast distances to pinpoint locations, and erasing his steps without a single link that could be traced back to him. Without a doubt he was powerful and knowledgeable, and yet...
The more learned a wizard became, the more they tended to specialize. It was not easy to master many different disciplines of magic, not only because of the sheer amount of study involved, but because it tended to shape one's entire worldview. Indeed, it was often easier for a beginning student of magic to switch between one type of magic and another, simply because they had less understanding of what they were doing.
Their enemy was a warlock, a master of distance, space, and the arcane fabric of reality. And yet the curse he had laid on the old king - and on Ashura - was a different order of magic altogether. It was a master's work, no question - invasive, irresistible, and cruel. And yet the modes of thought that must have gone into designing it were far different from that needed to produce a fixed portal over distance. It wasn't an arcane construction of space and time - it was more like a magical disease, a surgery of the human soul.
What that said to Fai was that there was not just one mind behind this invasive attack on the world, but two.
Or even - Fai glanced up at the sky, at the dark mass of thunderclouds that had been brewing high to the south for days now, faint flashes of green lightning playing over their heavy swells - three.
"There he is!"
Fai jerked his eyes down from the skyline, blinking rapidly as he refocused on his surroundings. He'd been so distracted by his worries that he hadn't even noticed where his feet were taking him; down the steps leading from the palace, into the plaza fronting the village with streets radiating out in all directions. Lost in thought, he'd walked right into the village itself without realizing it.
At least a dozen people were already gathered around the edge of the square, staring at him. A tow-headed boy of eight or nine, whose voice had jerked Fai out of his musings, was bobbing uncertainly around and behind an older man. He gripped his father's sleeve and pointed at Fai, saying in an excited voice: "I told you I saw someone moving up in the castle! I told you. The door was off the king's tomb!"
"Can't be him," the boy's father said, staring at Fai with an uneasy horror. "He's dead. Going forty years ago now. Besides, he's too young. Don't have a beard."
Fai's mind flashed back painfully to the memory of the desiccated corpse's face, the shape of the bones under the skull and his own face that he'd seen reflected there. They think I'm -
"It's not him," another voice called out. More and more people were crowded into the square now, drawn by the news of the strange activity in the castle, but nobody seemed to want to come too close. "Look at the clothes. It's one of them Ceres wizards. What's he doing here?"
He knew he'd been taking a risk by coming back to Valeria, but he'd never dreamed that people would have recognized him, gathered in a crowd so fast. He looked around for some sign of the Ceresian governors who controlled this town, but saw none; if they had been magically sensitive enough to detect his presence at all, they would know who he was, and would not interfere. "I am here on business for King Ashura," Fai said formally, but as soon as he spoke he knew it had been a mistake.
"It's his whelp!" an old woman from the back of the crowd shouted; at least fifty, sixty years she would have to be, to remember him. "The mad king's demon spawn! The twin what went off to be court Wizard for Ashura!"
The crowd burst into agitated, buzzing movement, like a hive of wasps disturbed by a stone. Fai felt sick inside, an icy hand clenching his throat and stomach like it would squeeze his insides up through his mouth. The villagers were everywhere, now; they were blocking all the roads except the one that led back up to the castle. "Please, step aside," he said, barely choking out the words. "I just want to leave -"
A rock came whizzing out of the crowd, and Fai had to duck aside, spinning to face the source of the missile. "Maggot spawn!" the woman screamed at him, old fear and hatred glittering in her eyes. "Leave now? You should never have come here in the first place! Your mother should have drowned you on the day you were born!"
As though her rock was a signal, more objects came whizzing out of the crowd; Fai dodged one, but the other struck him on his arm, a rotten piece of fruit that exploded onto his sleeve and chest. "It's your fault!" a male voice yelled, distorted by fury. "You drove the old king mad. You doomed all of us! It's all your fault!"
Fai ducked another bit of paving stone, and nearly doubled over to his knees with the agony that bubbled up inside his chest. They were right, he should never have come back here. He should never even have been born here…
There was - there was a world away from here, there were people who had never looked at him with disgust. He had to get back there, he had to get away from this place. Fai sprang to his feet, blue magic sizzling in his hands without any conscious recollection of calling it there. He incised a few bright runes in the air, and a sudden wall of wind sprang up, rolling outwards from him at the center and knocking the angry villagers back against the edge of the square. They cried out in fear and loathing, momentarily too cowed to resume their assault.
Fai wasn't finished. He turned in a tight circle, words of fire flowing from his fingertips, and then stretched his hands to the sky. The lines of spell-words spun around him, wrapping tight around his body and robes, and began to glow. Within seconds, the glow had spread to cover all his skin.
With a powerful thrust of his legs, Fai was airborne, his wings beating hard against the eddies and updrafts of his wind-spell. Within seconds he was out of arm's reach, in less than a minute well out of range of any thrown missiles. But he still couldn't escape the sound of their angry cries, floating up to him on the winds of Valeria; there was no place he could fly that was far enough to escape their condemnation and hate.
The great bird beat its wings once, twice, circling for the height needed to scale the mountains; and Fai was only glad that birds could not weep.
Sakura stumbled through the hallways, so exhausted that only the black-clad arm of the woman she was leaning on kept her upright. She ached all over; her head was pounding hard enough that her vision swam, and her skin felt stretched tight, until even the brush of her own clothing felt like sandpaper being dragged across her skin.
The woman who was escorting her - Sakura had trouble remembering everybody's name, they sounded so strange to her - made a concerned noise as Sakura missed a step and stumbled. "Princess?" the woman asked softly. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Sakura said sturdily, trying to straighten herself up and move forward under her own power. "Just a headache." She didn't want anyone thinking that she couldn't do the job that had been asked of her.
The woman hmm'd softly, but tightened her grip on Sakura's arm reassuringly. "Well, we are almost at your bedroom," she said in a soothing, reassuring tone. "I will get you some juice to drink, and then I can brush your hair before you sleep, if you like."
"Oh, yes please," Sakura said gratefully. Brushing her hair was one of the things that her servants back in the palace had used to do for her, and she missed it. She was sure that this woman's hands would be as gentle and soothing as her manner.
The bedroom was blissfully dim, and it was a relief to collapse into the padded chair set up by her dresser. She sat there for long minutes, struggling not to let her head bob forward in sleep as the servant woman moved around her as softly as a shadow. She still felt uneasy in these quarters that had been assigned for her use, although they were grand and beautiful, and filled with plush, comfortable furniture. More than one night she'd lain in the grand bed and let tears leak into the pillowcase, thinking of her comfortable, familiar bedroom in Ruval, the dolls and furnishings that had been part of her life there. But she struggled not to show it; she didn't want anyone to think she was ungrateful for their hospitality.
The slight clink of a porcelain cup on the dresser woke her up, and she looked up into the mirror over the dresser to see the dark-haired woman standing beside her. "Now, drink all of that before you sleep, Princess," she said. "It will help your headache, and you must keep up your strength."
"Okay." Sakura picked up the cup, and began to take small sips, as much as she could without the cold liquid numbing her mouth. She watched in the mirror as the woman rummaged around on the dresser and came up with a silver-backed hairbrush, and began running it through her hair in soothing strokes.
Sakura took the moment to study the older woman, now that she had a chance to observe without seeming rude. She, like Fei Wong and many of the other heralds, dressed all in sober black and gray that matched their black hair; the collar of her dress was cut away in a subtle design that invoked the crescent wings of the seal of the White God. In some ways she reminded Sakura of Fai's friend Kurogane; she had the same black hair and slightly slanted eyes. But her hair tumbled down in a wealth of soft, cascading curls that Sakura couldn't help but envy; her eyes were huge and dark and her skin was even paler than Sakura's.
"What's your name?" Sakura asked after a moment. "Umm, I'm sorry I don't remember, but..."
"It's alright, Princess." The steady brush strokes did not falter. "I am Xing Hua. And you have more important things to be thinking about than remembering everybody's name, so I don't mind."
"Oh." Sakura blushed slightly, and took another sip of the juice to hide it. It was cool and sweet, and with the spines of the brush running lightly through her scalp her headache was already beginning to feel a bit better. "Uhm, have you lived here all your life?"
"No." A small smile turned up the corners of the woman's face. "I grew up in a small village very far from here. When I was thirteen, my gift of dreamwatching began to manifest, and the Master found me and brought me here to use my powers for the White God."
"Oh!" Surprised and delighted, Sakura began to turn, only to wince when the spines of the hairbrush pulled her hair. She quickly sat straight again. "You're a dreamseer too? I didn't realize. Yukito-san was one, as well. He helped my father the same way that you help Fei Wong Reed. He must value you very very much!"
"Mmm." Xing Hua's eyes seemed to darken for a moment, and her smile faded slightly. "To tell you the truth, I am not very powerful; I cannot see much, and what I do see is distorted and uncertain. Still, it was enough to foresee your birth, Princess Sakura, which brought us all much joy."
"You foresaw - me?" Sakura said, a touch uncertainly. She hadn't thought to wonder how Fei Wong Reed and the other Heralds knew so much about her, but if they had a dreamseer like Yukito, then that made sense.
Xing Hua nodded in the mirror. "We had long known that a special child was to be born," she said. "But never where, or to whom. It was our great good fortune that I was able to sense your birth into the court at Ceres, although we did not at first realize that you were the Princess. Since then we have been watching you from afar, waiting for you to grow old enough to claim your destiny."
"Oh." Sakura sat still, pondering this, tilting the cup back and forth and watching the reflections in the dark color of the surface. She wasn't really thirsty any more, and the heavy aching of her limbs seemed to drag her down. "Xing Hua - Mister Reed trusts you a lot, doesn't he? You're very close to him, aren't you?"
There was a brief hesitation before the woman replied, "Certainly as close as any of the lesser servants of the White God can come. He is the herald, and it is only my desire to serve him, and to bring about the future we desire."
"Because, because, I just need to know," Sakura said, anxiety bubbling up in her. "Is Mister Reed - angry with me? Is he disappointed in me? Because, because I haven't found the White God yet - I've been searching and searching for almost a week now, but I still can't find the world that she's in. I'm trying my best, but I just get so tired so easily!" Her voice caught in her throat, and despite her best efforts to be grown-up and dignified, fat tears welled in her eyes and ran down her nose. She sniffled, rubbing at her face with one sleeve; she was just so tired and she hurt so much.
"Oh, hush," Xing Hua said, and she stepped around the chair to lay a soft arm over Sakura's shoulders. She rummaged around in the dresser again and came up with a handkerchief, which she used to wipe Sakura's eyes until she took it and clutched it in her hands.
"The master is not angry with you," Xing Hua said, her hand rubbing soothing circles on Sakura's back. "He understands that you are still very new to world-walking, and that you are making great efforts. You are improving - every day you are able to stay in the void longer, and reach farther to other worlds. The White God is patient, and She is eternal. We have awaited her coming for hundreds of years. We can wait a few more weeks."
Sakura sniffled, then blew her nose into the handkerchiefs. "But he doesn't come to watch my sessions," she said miserably. "Is it because I'm not progressing very fast?"
"On the contrary," Xing Hua said reassuringly. "He sees your rapid progress and feels that it is not necessary for him to supervise each training session. And besides, the Master is very busy. He has many tasks that take up his time and attention."
"Like what?" Sakura wanted to know.
Xing Hua hesitated for a moment, and Sakura wondered if this was supposed to be a secret. "Holding open the dimensional gate takes a lot of power," Xing Hua said finally. "The Master has developed many spells to draw energy from the sky and the ground, from the power of sunlight or geothermal heat. He has been working on strengthening those spells, so that you will not run out of power before you complete your task."
"Oh," Sakura said, touched that he would go to such efforts on her behalf, and also impressed by the massive scale of the spells Xing Hua described. Her tutors had always taught her that the world was a closed system, and that energy was not infinite, that it had to come from somewhere. But if Mister Reed could draw power from the sun and the earth themselves, why, that was marvelous.
"So put away your tears," Xing Hua continued. "Rest assured, we are all happy that you are here."
Sakura nodded, and sniffed one more time as her tears receded. "I'm sorry to be such a bother," she mumbled, her hands twisting the sodden handkerchief. "Especially you. You've been so kind to me."
"Not at all," Xing Hua said. Her face softened, once more that odd little smile appearing on her face. "It is nice to have a child around Eden again. You are about the same age that my son would be."
"You have a son?" Sakura jerked her gaze up to look at Xing Hua, shocked out of her own embarrassment. "But how is that possible? You're so young and beautiful! Oh! I didn't mean -" she stuttered, trying to cover for her mistake.
Only then did the meaning of Xing Hua's phrasing penetrate - she'd said that her child "would be" the same age as Sakura, not that he was... and there had been no other children of Sakura's age around the compound. "Did, umm, did something happen to him?" she asked timidly, reaching out to touch the back of Xing Hua's hand gently. "He didn't - die, did he?"
"No, nothing like that," Xing Hua assured her, but her expression saddened and became wistful. "But he left, as all children eventually do. I take comfort in knowing that he is well, and that wherever he goes in the world, he still faithfully serves the Heralds, as I do."
"What does he do?" Sakura wanted to know.
Xing Hua raised one hand to touch her temple beside her left eye. "Although I may not look it, this eye is blind to me," she explained. "Many years ago, I gave up my sight so that the White God could have it. I became one of the Master's 'seeing eyes;' when he wishes it, he can activate the mirror and see through this eye as though he were standing here in this room.
"My son is also one of the 'seeing eyes,' and he left to travel the world in the company of a well-respected archeologist, so that the Master may see and learn what goes on in the world outside." She smiled, but it had a melancholy tinge.
"Ohh." Sakura nodded in sudden enlightenment. Fei Wong Reed had told her during their first conversation that he had seen things in every country of the world; now Sakura began to understand how that could be possible. "But, I'm sure he's having fun! Traveling and learning so many things must be wonderful. It reminds me of a friend I had back in Ceres - Syaoran traveled to many different places, too!"
Xing Hua's hand stilled on Sakura's shoulder, and her expression grew somehow more masked. "A friend? His name is Syaoran?"
"Yes, my best friend!" Sakura felt a warm rushing glow in his chest and face, and tried not to blush. "W-well, maybe it's a bit impertinent to call him that. After all, I only knew him for a few days... But it felt like so much longer. We just understood each other so well - it was like we'd been friends for years."
The warm glow died down a bit, and Sakura bit her lip as she looked down. "I miss him, too," she said in a small voice. And she did, in some ways even more than her home in Ruval, her familiar maidservants and governesses and all the wizards and Fai. She missed them, but she'd had them all her life; she'd only had Syaoran for a few days.
"Hmm." Xing Hua moved again, rising to her feet and pulling Sakura from the chair as well. "Well, you must be tired from all your hard work today," she said. "Come, I will help you dress for bed, and you can tell me more about your friend."
Syaoran was actually dozing in his saddle by the end of the third day, the sun disappearing behind the mountain peaks and turning the descending valley into shadow. The going was easier now that they were down from the pathless, rocky peaks and into the cool forest that spread out like a mantle over the rolling slopes. But the days were still long, waking at first light and pushing on through the trackless wilderness towards the footlands with only the briefest of stops for food and rest.
As soon as they settled into camp, Kurogane told Syaoran he was going to patrol the area for dangers, and not to wait up for him. Kurogane didn't expect to encounter any danger, truth be told. This wasn't demon country - he'd be able to sense their malevolent aura a mile off if it were - and it was a rare wild predator that would attack an armed full-grown man in the light of a campfire. As soon as he was out of sight of Syaoran between the trees, he abandoned the pretense of a patrol and headed purposefully towards the gap between the trees where he'd last seen the flash of white wings.
It didn't actually take much searching - he stepped out into a moonlit meadow, clover and dead leaves crunching underfoot, and saw the hawk perched on a low tree branch, staring at him.
Now, what's a hawk doing flying around after dark? Kurogane wondered.
For a long moment he just stood there, regarding the bird. He couldn't be sure that this was the same bird that he'd glimpsed following them all afternoon down the mountain, but he thought it was. Kurogane had traveled in forests enough to know hawks pretty well, and he didn't think there could be two raptors so oversized, or with such a distinctively pale pattern of feathers. The bird was almost pure white in the moonlight, although in the dying light of the sun it had looked more like a pale yellow.
One of the hawk's golden eyes, the left one, was scarred and dulled, and that was the final link that enabled Kurogane to make the connection. He folded his arms in front of him. "All right, Fai," he grunted, addressing the bird, feeling somewhat foolish as he did so. "You've been following us all day, so you might as well show yourself."
For a moment nothing happened, except for the bird cocking its head at Kurogane and shifting a bit on the branch, and Kurogane began to feel like a total idiot. But just before he could turn around and go back, there was a sudden flurry of wind and glittering feathers on the branch before him. Kurogane had to squint against the explosion of light and quick motion, and when he was able to focus again, Fai was sitting on the branch, swinging his legs and grinning at him.
"Kuro-hunter is really quite observant," Fai said. "I didn't think I'd done anything to give myself away."
Kurogane grunted, resisting the brief impulse to grin in triumph. He hadn't been completely sure, but if he'd been wrong, nobody would have been there to see it except a bird. "As a hunter, I have to be," he said, "or I'd be dead by now."
Fai laughed, a clear rippling sound in the moonlight, and Kurogane's heart eased a bit despite himself. Fai held out his arms to Kurogane and grinned, kicking his heels slightly against the trunk. "Help me down," he commanded.
Kurogane didn't move. "You got yourself up that tree," he objected. "You're telling me you can't get down by yourself?"
"I could," Fai said, and his smile widened. "But I want Kuro-puppy to help me down."
Kurogane grumbled, but moved forward until he was standing under Fai's branch. "Come on," he said, holding up his own arms.
Fai's hands landed on his shoulders, and a moment later his arms were full of wizard. Kurogane's arms tightened around Fai's waist; despite his happy and carefree demeanor, the other man was trembling. Fai buried his face in Kurogane's shoulder, and for a moment neither of them said anything more. Kurogane lowered his nose to Fai's hair and inhaled the scent of him, warm and familiar, safe and relaxing. It was kind of embarrassing to admit how much he'd missed Fai in the few days since they had bid farewell in the Ruval courtyard.
A thought occurred to Kurogane, and he pulled back from the embrace slightly to look back up at the branch, still creaking slightly where it had bent under Fai's weight. "I don't get it," he said. "That was a big bird, and you're still too damn skinny, but you still have got to weight more than twice as much as it did. Where did all those extra pounds go when you transformed? For that matter, where did your clothes go? Or your staff? You sure weren't carrying -"
"Kuro," Fai interrupted him with gentle exasperation. "Do you have fifteen hours right now to listen to Ko's Treatise on Fundamental Anamistic Equivalent Principles?"
"What?" Kurogane stared at Fai in astonishment. "Fifteen - of course not!"
"Then it's magic, Kuro-ko."
"What are you doing out here, anyway?" Kurogane asked after a moment of trying to wrap his brain around that and failing. "I thought you had to stay behind in the castle so that idiot Tennou wouldn't get control. I thought that was the whole point. Did something happen?"
"Oh," Fai said, and then sighed. "A lot of things have happened in the last couple of days, Kuro-tu. Once we quashed Tennou's claim to succession, we set up a regent council of all the remaining wizards to take over for the King while he's… incapable of ruling. Yukito is riding herd on things in Ruval right now; I trust him to make all the right decisions."
"Then is Ashura still…" Kurogane let the question trail off into nothing. The only thing he could think of that would upset Fai this much would be Ashura's death; but he didn't want to come right out and ask for fear of upsetting him further.
"Still sick. Yes," Fai nodded confirmation, relieving Kurogane's fears. But then his face stilled into grave worry. "We've managed to slow the progression of the curse to a standstill, but so far we've made no headway in reversing the damage."
"Huh," Kurogane said. "Then if the wizards are in charge in Ceres and Ashura's still… sick, then what are you doing flying around out here? I thought you'd be back at his bedside, banging your head against this curse thing until you found a solution."
Fai didn't answer him for a long moment, long enough to pique Kurogane's curiosity. When he finally spoke, he changed the subject. "We thought you ought to know, Kurogane," he said, and the use of his full name caught the demon-hunter's full attention. "We've confirmed that the curse which was cast on Ashura the night of Sakura's abduction was the same one that was cast on the King of Valeria, fifty years ago.
"About the same time the king started going mad, new guards appeared in his court at Valeria - just a few at first, but more and more of them over the years. Those black guards wore the crest of a black bat, on a yellow background." Fai met Kurogane's eyes squarely. "The same crest as the man who killed your mother."
A chill went down Kurogane's spine, and he had to fight to keep his grip from tightening painfully on Fai's arms. "So it was the same man, then," he said in a low voice.
Fai nodded; his face was shadowed. "The same… enemy, yes," he said, and Kurogane wondered at the hedging in his voice. "It's not absolute confirmation, but it's as close as we're going to come until you meet him in person."
It was new information. But at the same time, they'd already suspected it - had suspected it from the night they'd killed the Master of Demons together. Kurogane would brood on this information later, but right now he had other things on his mind. He raised his hand to Fai's chin, tilting his face upwards to meet Kurogane's gaze again. "So now I know," he said. "But telling me that wasn't the only thing you flew all the way out here for, was it?"
He was pressed close enough to Fai to feel the shiver that went through his frame. Fai closed his eye, his face bone-pale in the moonlight. "No," he whispered.
"Are you ready to feed yet?" Kurogane asked him quietly. "Flying here and there, you must be getting hungry soon." Although he wasn't anywhere as deathly starved as when Kurogane had first arrived from Nihon, signs of wear were beginning to show on Fai; the bone of his chin was sharp in Kurogane's hand, his frame light and fragile in Kurogane's arms. "I don't care if you…"
"No," Fai gasped. "No, it's not safe yet. I'm all right. I promise."
Kurogane set his teeth with frustration, having banged his head on the wall of Fai's stubborn resolve too many times already. "Then what do you need?" he asked sharply, all patience exhausted for dancing around the subject. "Just tell me."
Instead of answering, Fai threw himself forward, arms clutching tight around the back of Kurogane's neck, kissing him fiercely.
Well, that wasn't the answer he'd expected. Nevertheless, Kurogane kissed back willingly, tasting Fai's desperation. Whatever was bothering him, he clearly didn't want to talk about it, and Kurogane didn't have time tonight to wear down his defenses. Already the moon continued its steady arc in the silent sky, the shadows growing darker in the mountain clearing as the moonlight began to fade.
He wanted to touch more of Fai's skin, but Fai was leaning on his arms so hard that he couldn't free them. Instead he pushed Fai back, stumbling across the tree roots and fallen branches until he had Fai pressed up against the rough back of the coniferous tree. Supporting Fai between his body and the wood, he was finally able to free his hands enough to run them up Fai's arms and shoulders, across his chest and down his stomach.
Fai broke free of the kiss with a gasp. "Kuro -" he choked out, and fumbled around to grab Kurogane's wrists, yanking them down to seat firmly on his hips. "Touch me -"
Kurogane was happy enough to oblige; his hands fit on Fai's slender hips like they were made for him to hold, his fingers curling around to dig into Fai's buttocks. He pulled Fai forward to grind against him, their groins moving together with a sweet heat and friction, and hitched Fai forward enough to kiss him again.
Fai moaned, a throaty sound that Kurogane felt in his stomach and chest before it rose through his throat to buzz against his mouth. He pushed Fai back against the tree to steady him as he shifted his grip, reaching up to pull at the neckline of Fai's clothes. He was wearing the heavy, fur-lined coat of his robe of office, not a bad choice in this cold mountain night; but under it was one of the high-necked collars of Ceres fashion, concealing Fai's lovely throat and collarbone from his sight. Kurogane tried to drag them both into the path of the fading moonlight, so as to better see the buttons of Fai's shirt, but for his trouble got a branch caught in his hair and flecks of bark in his eyes.
"Damn it!" he roared, for a moment forgetting about the possibility that his voice might carry down the cool mountain slopes to their campsite. He bent forward, scrubbing furiously at his watering eyes, and became aware of Fai giggling almost hysterically against his chest.
"I think," Fai gasped once Kurogane had managed to blink the bark out of his eyes, "I think we'd better leave poor Tree-san alone, don't you? We've bothered him quite enough for tonight and besides, I'm getting sap in my hair."
"Have you got a better idea?" Kurogane growled.
Still chuckling with the remains of his laughter, Fai guided them both away from the offending tree to a smooth, cool patch of grass in the moonlight. He unclasped his coat, and spread it out like a blanket over the grass; smiling, he gestured at Kurogane to go ahead, while he began undoing the buttons of his clothes.
Kurogane shimmied out of his trousers and shirt, but put his jacket back on, open across his chest. It was too damn cold out here to get completely naked, and the hunter part of him still itched at the thought of a demon coming upon them unawares. But when he turned back to Fai, now dressed only in the spills and shadows of the moonlight coming through the trees, he couldn't be too bothered.
If the mishap with the tree had done some good, Kurogane thought, because after he got over his bout of near-hysterical laughter, Fai seemed much more relaxed; an imperceptible tension had gone out of him. He lay back on the coat and pulled Kurogane down with him, and they touched each other tenderly, leisurely in the cool air. They were both aware of time passing, and that they both had other places to be; but they had time enough for this moment together.
With breathy moans and whispers, Fai urged Kurogane on. At first the hunter was doubtful, since he remembered how uncomfortable it was to be penetrated even with oil, even in the luxurious comfort of Fai's bedroom. Here they had nothing, except Fai's own saliva, slicked and cooling on his fingers, on his erection. But Fai insisted, almost obsessed with the idea of Kurogane claiming him, filling him; and when at last Kurogane positioned himself and pressed slowly inside, Fai's expression was a twisted mix of pain and pleasure.
"Maybe we shouldn't," Kurogane began, but Fai cut him off with a savage shake of his head.
"I'm all right," he panted. "Please, Kuro-rin. I need to … be here, right now…"
He had to go slowly, so slowly it was almost painful; the sharp scent of pine sap leaking from broken needles mixed with the heady scent of Fai's musk and sweat, and the heat between their groins - of Fai's hands where they pressed against his upper arms - was almost too much to bear.
Fai's colors were washed out in the pale moonlight; his hair white, his golden eye so light it almost looked blue again. Everywhere he touched Fai, his skin was cold, but quickly warmed to searing heat under Kurogane's hands, and Fai moaned his name, breathily, and it was the sweetest sound in the world. He balanced his weight easily on one arm, moving the other down to the join of their bodies where he could squeeze and stroke Fai's cock in time to the rhythm of his movements.
He thrust his hips forward one more time and Fai cried out, his back arching and hair spilling over the edge of the coat onto the grass, as warm sticky liquid spurted over Kurogane's stomach. Kurogane grinned, a little smug despite everything, and dipped his head to lick the shining sweat off Fai's throat as it lay bared and panting beneath him. He really was getting the hang of this sex thing, after only a couple of tries.
"What are you… grinning about…" Fai panted, his good eye glazed over with post-coital bliss.
"What do you think, idiot?" Kurogane breathed down at him, and planted both hands solidly on the coat again for leverage. A hot tingling sensation was starting at the base of his spine, spreading with every twitch and movement of Fai's body under his, and it only took two more thrusts before he came as well.
They lay tangled on the coat for long minutes, feeling the sweat and semen begin to cool and congeal between their bodies but not wanting to move. At last Fai sighed and began to untangle them, wriggling free of Kurogane's softened cock and shifting to his feet. He dug into his fluffy coat's pockets and found handkerchiefs; why he'd thought to bring those and not lube, Kurogane would never know.
"You should go back," Fai said in a barely audible whisper. "Get some sleep before dawn. You've got a long way to go still."
"Will you be coming with us?" Kurogane asked, without too much hope; Fai had said you, and not we. He was disappointed, but not surprised, when Fai shook his head.
"There are too many things I still need to do," he said, then glanced up and smiled. "But don't worry, I'll be around."
"I'll keep an eye out for big stupid birds who are flying when they shouldn't be," Kurogane said.
Fai's smile faded, and he looked aside. "Listen, Kuro-tan," he said, and despite the playful nickname his voice was serious. "Don't look for me, all right? Just focus on what you have to do. And don't… don't tell your student about me. That I was here. Just don't mention me to him at all."
"Why not?" Kurogane demanded, but Fai just shook his head.
"This is important, Kuro-tan," he said seriously, and Kurogane ground his teeth, then let out his breath.
"All right," he said. "Have it your way - but only if you do something for me in return."
Fai blinked in surprised. "Do what?" he said.
Kurogane reached out and closed his hand over Fai's wrist. "Feed from me," he said simply.
Fai stiffened and tried to pull away, but Kurogane had anticipated that and held firm. "I can't right now, I'm sorry," he said in a dulled voice. "It's just too dangerous. There are some things that you just can't know right now, or -"
It was the same argument that he'd used back in the palace, but this time, Kurogane was ready with an answer for it. "Or it would be too dangerous, I know," he said. "I don't get it, but for whatever reason, you don't want me to be able to read your thoughts. Fine. But you still need to eat, or else you'll be useless from hunger at exactly the worst time. How much help are you going to be against our enemy if you're fainting from starvation when we meet him?"
"Well, what do you suggest, then?" Fai asked raggedly.
"Put me to sleep," Kurogane responded. Fai blinked, then opened his mouth to protest, but Kurogane forged over him. "I know that you can do that with magic," he said. "If I'm asleep, I won't be able to see your thoughts, so you'll have nothing to worry about. I'll just wake up an hour later, no harm done, right?"
"Kuro-tan," Fai said, his voice pained. He tugged his wrist against again, but couldn't pull out of Kurogane's grasp. "How could I feed from you when you're helpless? How could I -"
Kurogane just glared at him, and refused to loosen his grasp. "You are not getting off this mountain until you agree," he growled.
Fai sighed, then lowered his head in defeat. "Why is it that you always get your way, Kuro-tan?" he murmured, but there was affection and longing mixed in his voice along with exasperation.
Fai did insist that Kurogane go back down to the campsite and fetch a blanket. He refused to come within sight of the campfire, although Syaoran was asleep; Kurogane checked on him and assured himself that all was well before retreating back up the mountain.
He felt a moment of trepidation, settling himself in a sitting position with his back against a tree; for all his assurances, it frightened him to be so helpless in the wilderness. "It's all right," Fai told him, sensing perhaps his nervousness. "I'll stay here and guard you until the spell is almost up."
"Who's worried?" Kurogane snapped, although he was secretly reassured. Once again he wondered what knowledge could be so dire that Fai would rather starve than share it with him - and how far his trust for Fai would stretch.
"Spaad," Fai whispered, and his fingers trailed down over Kurogane's face, from his hairline to his chin. Tiny, almost invisible sparks seemed to follow in his fingers, and Kurogane felt an overwhelming drowsiness overcome him. Fai's voice followed him down into the darkness; "Sleep."
Kurogane dreamed of an endless sweeping sea; sometimes water, sometimes sand, with the wind whipping tall waves that turned into sand dunes and came crashing down. Overhead the sky was dark, with only an eerie light on the horizon piercing the darkness, a light not at all like dawn.
The only thing keeping him grounded in the maelstrom was a single red string, like a ribbon, tugging him insistently onwards. Trust me, Kuro-sama, Fai's voice seemed to echo from nowhere. Go with him, protect him. This is important, more important than you can know.
The strange light in the sky grew until it was nearly blinding; but Kurogane woke just before it could clear the horizon. He was alone.
~to be continued...
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