07-Oct-2004
Title: The War of Smoke and Mirrors 2/?
Author: Elemental
Rating: PG 13 (WILL progress to R in later chapters)
Pairings: Defined- 2x5, 3x4. Rest remain pending. ^^
Warnings: AU, OCs, War, Death, Destruction, Flagrant
use of concepts snagged from Terry Pratchett, Neil
Gaiman, Tamora Pierce, and David Weber, all carefully
modified to fit my (very) warped view of the world.
Good possibility of religion bashing. (Ie gods and
blind faith, NOT a specific religion.)
Archived at GWAddiction.com, under Elemental
The usual disclaimers apply.
Feedback is appreciated!
Ten thousand years I've searched it seems and now
Gotta get to you
Won't you tell me how?
(I can't live a life served as a sentence... I can't
life a life crawling in fear.)
"Attend."
The figure was pale, with cropped white hair and a plain, unadorned grey tunic. He leaned heavily on a cane, but the boy knew he did not do so for support. It was an illusion, a prop. As false as was everything about the man.
"Changelings have no name when we are born. We take the names that humans give our forms, because without a birth name they have one less way to control us. Remember that child. They will try to control us, by naming us, and they can. We are."
"We are changelings. Chameleons. Doppelgangers. Shifters. Weird Ones. Demons. They fear and revile us. Their wizards use us in their spells. And we are completely dependant upon them."
He looked to the boy beside him, still young in appearance and hair obscuring half of his face. "You will understand this more as you grow, but know thus: Among humans our only defense is our ability to shift and our honor. Prove to a human you are honorable and you have their friendship, and their protection. Betray them and they will not hesitate to kill you."
He watched the boy formulate his question. "But we kill humans. Why, if we need them?"
The old man sighed. "We are good for little else but assassination, and staying in one form chafes at us. We have little choice in the end. If we did not serve those who bind us, they would hunt and slaughter us like animals. And we depend upon humanity too much to hide."
"But why?"
"That is an explanation for another day. Remember, boy. Humans are dangerous, but we cannot live without them. And each race has its own morals and rules. If you can act within those, you can survive even if discovered. Honor is an important thing for humans, even as it is for us. Remember that."
"But what does it mean?"
"It means, my dear boy, that if you give a human your word, you must keep it! And if someone does something for you, well you're obligated to return the favor or you are in their debt. Now begone! You make an old man weary!"
"But you're not really that old."
"I am today. Scat!"
Trowa awoke instantly, aware of every sound within the small room. He rose quietly, examining everything with a sharp eye. The room was clean and simple. A jug and basin against one wall, with a polished glass mirror beside it for washing. A low bed, a cushioned chair, a table, bookcase, and a set of drawers made it a bedroom; all formed from the same, strange, twisted wood.
He adjusted the light cotton tunic he was wearing, pleased that it no longer chafed against his wounds. The healer had done a very good job at undoing the damage he'd received over the last few weeks, although he would have healed quickly nonetheless. If he cared to admit it, it was nice to no longer worry about fractured arms or ribs. For a while at least.
He had been left a pair of leggings and he gratefully put them on, along with a cleaner tunic he discovered in a drawer. They were a simple make, but clean, and better than anything he'd worn for a long time. Unfortunately, there wasn't any footwear. But he supposed he was being greedy.
There was a shuttered window and he opened it, finding the sky a deep purple and red, the moons already showing their faces. Belgar was quarter-full, already midpoint in the sky. Naila was red and angry looking, hovering full just above the horizon. The window faced a garden that was an oasis within the desert, with short trees and beautiful flowers just now blossoming in the dusk. It was the first time Trowa had seen anything of beauty in the wasteland, and he memorized it, savoring the beauty as a memory he could call upon later, when needed.
He tested the spell as he did every time he awoke. It choked him for only a moment before he stopped. He didn't even bother trying to shift.
Eventually he stepped out of the room, finding a young boy waiting for him, half asleep in a wooden chair just outside the door. Hearing the door shut, he jumped up, rubbing his eyes and grinning widely at Trowa. He was very short, with curly black hair cut close to his head. He had the blackest skin Trowa had ever come across, and it made the white, puckered scar across his cheek and into his hairline seem all the more noticeable. He wore a thin gold collar around his neck and a well worn white tunic, with blue leggings and undershirt, and a black belt around his waist. Trowa remembered the colour scheme from the guards around his 'savior' and assumed the boy was a palace servant, or perhaps a personal one.
The boy bobbed a half-bow and motioned down the hall. His voice was light and happy and he spoke common with no trace of accent. "My lord wishes to see you. If you will follow me?"
Trowa nodded and followed the boy as he led them down the maze of hallways inside the palace. It was almost as confusing as it had been to come, and he had been drugged at the time. The boy knew where he was headed however, and often began to skip or jump as he pointed out this painting or that statue. If he noticed that his charge was not replying to anything, it certainly didn't stop him. Trowa wondered idly if he was trying to speak enough for the both of them.
The boy stopped at the end of a long hallway in front of a large door, slipping out of common to address the guard in their own tongue. Trowa listened carefully, recognizing the language as a variant of the Suomeaian the Traders spoke, though different enough for him to miss certain words. He'd learned Tradertalk from the mercenaries around him, and had never really come across any of the variants until now. Almost everyone spoke common, or Naryan, though few referred it as that. The butcher had spoken only common around him, and the assistant slipped into Silvyn when he cursed.
"Please senki Lord Quatre that his ansteeksi has huomenta and hyvää iltaa a kuinka tämä sanotaan now."
The guard nodded and stepped inside the room, the door opening mere moments later to show the smiling, blonde boy from yesterday. Lord Quatre, as these people called him. As he was ushered into the king's chambers, Trowa mentally catalogued what he knew of Isadora and its people.
It was a large country, composed almost entirely of desert. There were few true cities, central areas where the nomadic tribes met for trade. Of those cities, Masada was the largest and oldest, and used as their capital for what little governing they managed, since nomadic tribes were frightfully hard to control. He'd traveled across its deserts often, using it as a main route to Biet Shien and Nasetia. He'd taken the canyon pass to Malvern in fact, when he'd killed King Daelon. His travels had likely taken him across most of the country. But he'd never visited its capital, a supposed mecca for thousands who wished to trade and shop. As a rule, he disliked large numbers of people. Few could recognize a shifter on site, but the more people around, the higher the chances of discovery. He'd gotten much better at hiding his aura as he'd grown older, but there was always a chance of a mistake, and he still wavered when he slept, which was likely how the slaver had recognized his nature. It was safer to avoid cities. Perhaps the only bonus of the spell to contain his shifting was that apparently none could tell now that he wasn't fully human. If he could ever find the spell, he would have to take it to the Doctor to have it examined. It would be worthwhile to try to copy that aspect of the spell, without the limitations.
The king motioned for him to sit on a cushioned, low sofa, and sent the scarred boy away for food. Trowa examined his 'savior' with a critical eye. He knew the Isadoran king would likely be killed as he himself murdered Daelon; Treize had alluded to that fact. But Trowa wondered idly why the prince had not been killed at the time of his father and Daelon as well. Either way, he was now king, a slight thing with golden hair and tanned skin. He was much paler than his people, probably the sign of a foreign mother. He was short and lithe, his voice a pleasant tenor as he took the food from the servant who appeared and dismissed everyone but the lone guard by a window of the room. His movements were fluid and graceful, but Trowa could see it was a hunter's grace behind them. Though the king might look like only a boy, Trowa could already sense the steel that was his core. He reminded the shifter as a dire cat, able to change from subtle calm grace to deadly killing precision in seconds.
He finally sat, setting a platter laden with food between them. "Please, eat. Healing always leaves me feeling starved, and I believe you haven't likely had a proper meal in some time."
He was hungry, so Trowa nodded, carefully choosing what looked like stuffed pita bread and glass of some kind of fruit juice.
"I wanted to apologize, and speak to you. My father abolished slavery within these lands years ago, but it has not left us yet, and we still fight the slavers who travel our lands."
Trowa continued to eat. There was no other response he could make.
"As I said yesterday, you are free again. I will give you a purse, and anything you need to return to your homeland. Do you know where it is, from here? There is a map on the wall."
Trowa shook his head.
"You don't know where it is?"
He shook his head again, making a chopping motion with his hand, frustrated that he could not speak.
Quatre thought briefly, looking hard into the clear green eyes across from him. "You don't have a homeland?"
Nod. Trowa wondered how much he should 'tell' the boy king, and how much he would have to create.
"Were you a traveler? An actor? A trader?" Now Quatre was curious. "A sailor? Merchant? Fighter?"
Trowa shook his head at each query, amused at the blonde's curiosity, and hesitated at the last. Finally, he nodded.
Quatre blinked. "You were a mercenary?"
Trowa half-shrugged. It was the closest thing Quatre had said. He was, for all intensive purposes, a hired man. He could be an actor, trader, sailor, merchant or a thousand other things. Quite literally, in fact. He was whatever his employer wanted him to be.
"How were you captured?"
Trowa raised an eyebrow expressively and the blonde blushed, realizing how pointless such a question was.
Quatre sighed. He wished could use his empathy to find out the answers to the questions burning in his mind, but his skills were almost unidirectional. He could put any thought, any image into someone's mind, but at best he could sense if they were lying in return. Any sort of deeper probing ended up hurting the other enormously, something he never wanted to repeat after his first experiments. He supposed it was a bonus- he always knew when to trust someone for instance- but knowing the mood of an entire castle could be draining at the best of times.
Shaking himself from his train of thought, he examined the auburn-haired teen across from him, already looking much healthier. "What do you plan to do then?"
What could he do? Trowa briefly remembered the dream - a memory of his childhood - and stared at the king. He owed him his life. For all that he was 'freed' he was still in debt with this boy. And he was in considerable danger. He could not speak, could not shift, and was still healing. Trekking across the desert to reach the mountain passes of Bachnai was not an appealing thought. And without any proof to who he was, his people would likely to kill him, assuming him a human spy.
For all that the boy spouted of 'freedom'. Trowa was as much a slave here as he was at the Butcher's. The only difference was that Quatre would have another word for it.
What could he do? He stood, and walked around the table to Quatre's side. Kneeling at the boy's feet, he touched his head to the ground, and waited.
Surprised, Quatre stared for a moment before standing and backing up. "Stand up, please. You are not my slave, you understand that, don't you? Please get up."
Trowa unbent, but remained on his knees. The king was intelligent, and he wasn't going to spell it out for him. Especially as he couldn't write.
Quatre stared at the kneeling boy, uncertain even as he matched the unblinking stare. Finally, he quietly ventured "You want to stay here?"
Nod.
Quatre felt a surge of something, and realized he was happy at the thought. He broke the stare, walking to a window and looking out at the night sky. There was something about the boy that made him want him.near. He was. comforting. It wasn't something Quatre could put his finger directly on but..
Well, realistically, if he couldn't communicate he'd be pretty defenseless on his own. Surely he had some skills as a mercenary, even if he was captured. And he said he wanted to stay. Who was to say it would be any better if he was given a place in the market? He really was too old for any guild.
Realistically, Quatre had already decided. He simply liked convincing himself. He was king after all, wasn't he allowed?
..and having him nearby wouldn't hurt him, so what harm could it possibly do? It would be perfect. Even better, because if he chose to leave, he'd be hard pressed to take any secrets with him! Rashid wouldn't like him of course, but Rashid never liked anyone. And he already knew he could trust him.
Quatre turned back, finding the boy still kneeling and walked back to his side, pulling him to his feet with no resistance. "If you truly wish to stay here, I can offer you a position. My last attendant retired- he's getting married- and I haven't found anyone to replace him. You'd be keeping my hours, helping me organize things and the like. You'd accompany me to meetings where my normal guards can't go. It's hard work, but it pays very well. And as I said, you are free to go any time." Quatre smiled.
There was a wave of surprise from the teen and he raised an eyebrow, looking at askance at the guard glowering at him from against the wall. Quatre shrugged. "My people know to trust me. I'm empathic-
The wave of fear and surprise was almost palpable as Trowa flinched.
"Calm down! I can't read your mind! But I can sense your moods, and motivations. I can trust you," he tapped his chest, "I know."
Very slowly, the auburn-haired teen nodded.
"You accept?" The grin was brilliant.
Trowa nodded again.
"Well! That's good then. I'll let you get settled in first. You'll have a suite of rooms attached to mine, and I'll get you some colours." He motioned to the tunic Trowa wore. "And your name.." A thought struck Quatre so quickly he smacked the palm of his hand into his head. "Of course! Why don't you just write it down? Why in the world didn't I think of that before? I must be more tired than I thought!
Trowa shook his head.
Quatre paused. "You. can't write?" He was surprised; everyone in Isadora learned the basics of language and maths in school before taking a trade. It just made sense. though truthfully he knew other countries were different, he'd never even considered this.
"Sorry. Never mind then. Well, for a name. Do you have any idea?"
Trowa shook his head. Trowa had been stolen from the dead boy who's form he wore. The name didn't belong to him any more than the shape did, and he didn't have any idea as how to convey Trowa silently anyway.
"Well, may I give you a name?"
Trowa started to shake his head again, then shrugged. He doubted he could find a way without one, but to be given a name was dangerous. Shifters were born without them for a reason - being named meant that person had a kind of power over you. The last thing he wanted was to give the king any more power over him, knowingly or not.
Quatre bit his lip in consideration. He'd heard from the Maguanacs that some desert people considered names sacred objects, things that held power. If the teen believed the same thing, the last thing he wanted to do was commit some sort of huge cultural gaff.
"What about. Nanashi? It means no-name in our language. so it's not a true name, but we can still use it.. Will that work?"
Trowa considered it for a moment, then nodded. It was a good compromise. Caught off guard, he yawned.
"You're still tired, of course. This way, I'll show you your rooms."
Rooms, thought Trowa quietly, remembering the places he'd slept before... For all that he was stuck here.. It could certainly be worse.
They had moved far faster than Wufei could have thought possible. It probably had something to do with the way the trees would blur oddly- even when the horses were barely at a walk. Howard didn't comment on it, and their new companion refused to answer.
They had circled up, apparently around the territory Treize now controlled, to the city and port of Mkann.. It was an incredibly busy city, a fishing port and major dock between the Xi'an Empire and Isadora. The swift currents across the Esoth guaranteed weeks off travel time for those who could afford boating fees.
Mkann was also a free city, a country of its own despite its small size. Long ago it had ceded from Xi'an, and no one had been successful in annexing it for some time. Yet even as the trio approached the city, Wufei knew the people sensed Treize's army was close. Walls around the city were heavily patrolled, armor glinting in the light of a setting sun. Four guards manned the only entrance, another six standing just inside. All inspected the travelers and wagon thoroughly before letting them through the double walls and into the city.
Duo turned to Howard, eyes a stable and far less disturbing deep violet. "I need to talk to Wufei. We should find a tavern with rooms."
Howard nodded and Wufei scowled in reply. As far as he was concerned, he needed to talk to Wufei. For one thing, what the hell was he? Beyond the lightshow when they met and the strange speed they'd traveled at since he'd joined, he'd done nothing out of the ordinary. He'd also barely spoken. If Wufei was any judge, he'd almost admit that the strange teen looked.strained. If not for the fact that Howard apparently knew him, Wufei would have written him off as insane and left.
He wasn't sure about Howard's sanity anymore, however.
The streets were busy, but Howard led them through with ease. Of course, Wufei thought to himself, Howard had almost certainly been here before. As a Trader, Howard had seen almost all of Desland. To Wufei, who had never been beyond Xi'an's walls, this was a new experience.
Howard turned up a side street and stopped in front of a tavern. The sign outside named it the "Death's Flame" And advertised rooms for rent in bold letters. Below that was a bony hand, carrying a torch, apparently the emblem of the place. Duo seemed to find it amusing.
Wufei helped stable the horses while Duo and Howard secured a room and took their supplies upstairs. By the time Wufei climbed the tavern's stairs to his room, Howard was already asleep on a bed, snoring lightly. The shutters were closed, making the room dark. Duo sat at the table, two tankards and a candle in front of him. He motioned to Wufei to sit, and offered him the drink.
It was beer, cold and much sweeter than what he was used to, with much more alcohol. Setting down the mug Wufei glared, something he mentally noted he'd been doing a lot of recently. "First, I have some questions-"
He stopped mid-sentence as purple fire, the same light colour as Duo's eyes had been when they met, leapt from the teen's fingers. The teen grinned, and flicked the fire up, arcing around the room in streams that flowed along each wall corner and seam. The fire expanded into a dull glow until it surrounded the room, then faded.
"Now we can talk."
"What the hell was that?"
"I sealed the room. Now, no one can listen in. Magically or physically."
"You think Treize's men are looking for me?"
"No, though they will when they find you're alive." Duo met the teen's angry eyes evenly. "Far worse is looking for me."
"What?"
Duo sighed. "Let me explain everything. Then you can ask me whatever you want and I'll answer. Because I need a favor."
Wufei growled in response. "What?"
"Let me explain first," Duo replied "or it won't make any sense."
Wufei leaned back and raised a single eyebrow expressively.
"I'm here.because while your people were being attacked, someone was trying to kill me."
"Tell me Wufei, do you believe in the gods?"
The dark-haired boy snorted in derision.
"I thought so. Nevertheless, they do exist. Gods come to be when a single being- whether it's a person or animal or object- is worshipped by enough people to take power from that belief. Gods are created by their believers- but in return, by supporting their followers, gods gain more power as their belief is solidified, and more therefore join in worship. Do you understand so far?"
"A long time ago, a young boy named Quon was forced to leave his tribe, ill with a very destructive disease. His tribe was a group of nomads who traveled across what you know as the Xi'an wasteland and across the Levat Mountains. The boy heard of a dragon, a terrifying creature that was destroying the villages that sat inside the protection of the mountains. Seeking to find some purpose and earn a name for himself before the sickness destroyed him, he decided to find and kill this dragon."
"And he killed the dragon and took his power and gold and founded the Chang family," interrupted a bored voice, "I know, it's a folk tale of my people."
"No, its not. Or at least, your version is, I suppose. Quon found the dragon, of course. In a cave within the mountains. It lay with the body of another dragon, dead, and three eggs as tall as he was, all smashed, half-formed dragonets still inside. Charred bone and twisted metal was all that was left of those who had attacked."
"The dragon inside was large, the largest creature Quon had ever seen. Yet he did not fear it. He could not. He believed he would slay the beast, or it would slay him. In Quon's eyes, either outcome was acceptable, as both were heroic and would grant him a place of honor in his afterlife."
"As he approached the beast, he thought at first it was asleep, as it did not move to attack him. Yet as he drew near, the beast's eye's followed him, watching even as he drew his simple blade."
"Quon stood over the beast with his blade naked and ready to deliver a killing blow, only to realize he could not. He could not willingly destroy such a creature, especially as it lay still and waited for the blow. The creature still did not move, and Quon realized it was dying- starving itself out of grief. He knelt before the creature, offering his poor life to it. Still, the beast did not move."
"Finally, Death came for the dragon. Quon, close to his own end, saw the figure and cried out for it to spare the dragon and take his life instead. The dragon, for his part, asked Death to restore the boy's health, and offered Death anything he could ask in return."
"Death looked at the last living dragon and at the dying nomad and came upon an idea. With their consent, he merged the two together, healing Quon and ensuring that the Dragon bloodline would not be lost. He infused a part of his own essence into the merge, his own selfish act. By doing so he could assume a human form, something he had wanted for years. Each gained something- Quon was healthy, the Dragon Bloodline remained, allowing their consciousness a place to exist, and Death got a solid form."
"Quon was not unchanged. The powers of dragonkind were passed to him and his heirs. He himself changed. Eyes blacker than an abyss and reptilian in shape, golden skin, strength and speed beyond that of a normal man. An incredible memory that was almost flawless. And he stopped growing," Duo smiled faintly, "keeping an unconventionally small frame."
"The rest of your folktales and history have it mostly true. Quon descended from the mountains and took the name Chang, meaning Dragon in the nomadic language of his tribe. He took a wife- a noble born girl from one of the kingdoms as a reward for slaying the dragon, and used the dragon's horde to claim the parcel of land between the Esoth and the far side of the Levat Mountains. He started his own kingdom, an empire truly. A race of people who inherited his features and bloodline. A people who claimed no deity but Death."
Wufei's mug was empty. "So I get two fairy tales about gods and dragons. I still don't know what the hell you're talking about."
Duo smiled. "History, Wufei. Don't worry, I'm not done."
"Oh, good" Wufei replied snidely. "I was worried for a moment. For one thing, we don't consider Death a 'god'. By your meaning if we stopped believing in it, he'd stop existing and we'd stop dying. Obviously, that's not true."
"The problem is that Death isn't a deity by normal 'rules'. Death exists because life exists. Balance. Death lives, for lack of a better word, because he represents the tiny certainty that every living being holds from its first breath. As long as there is life, there is death. So it takes a form, much as gods do."
"But gods, worshipped gods. they can die. If they loose that belief, they fade, slowly, out of existence. And likewise, they can be killed. If another god convinces his followers to kill enough of another god's followers, than that second god would be weakened, possibly too weak to withstand a direct assault by a god, or gods, as alliances form. Religions all boil down to power. Gods don't care which way you pray- they just want an excuse to get rid of another contender for power."
"Odin is one of the strongest gods in the pantheon. He's supposed to represent war and justice, but he doesn't bother to play fair himself. He ordered Treize to destroy your people, with the support of the other gods, because they believed that by destroying the Dragon-born, they could destroy Death, by severing the tie he had on the mortal world and then attacking his godly form. If Death did not exist, they could re-write the rules of life for their own purposes and make themselves immortal."
"So they tried to kill me."
Wufei's eyebrows shot up in shock. This was the second time Duo had referred to himself as death, and this time he didn't think it was just a figure of speech, or a mistake.
For one thing, the glowing lilac eyes were back.
"They obviously failed."
Duo shook his head. "No, they didn't. I bound a part of myself into your people, so by killing them, or by forcing themselves to kill themselves, I was weakened, a bit. No, the power of the gods united would have been enough to destroy me even without your people's sacrifice. Odin had them attacked just in case, so that I couldn't use you to draw power and protect myself."
"You're rather lively for a corpse."
"I died. Very, very painfully. I was actually torn apart, piece by piece down to the atoms. And then I was reborn, which isn't a cakewalk itself. I told you, as long as there is life, I will exist. The only way they could destroy me is to kill every living thing on the earth- and that would destroy the gods themselves."
"So let me get this straight. You're Death, god of.death. I'm descended from a dying teen and a depressed dragon, the gods are trying to kill you and Treize is following the orders of the head honcho for the Death extermination regime."
Duo laughed. "You're catching on pretty quick."
Wufei joined in on the laughter, harsh with anger. "Ignoring the fact that I don't believe a word you're saying, what the hell does this have to do with what you want with me?"
The laughter stopped and Duo sighed. "It's true, whether you want to believe it or not. I gave you the history because I need your help. The gods believe. no, they know I'm dead. I want to keep it that way, at least for a while. I want to know what Odin is up to, and why he's supporting Treize. I also want to stop Treize. If I act as I am now, the gods would know I wasn't destroyed. My powers are rather... obvious"
"This is the first major use of my powers, and even this is slight. I've been spending all my time shielding myself, which is exhausting. What I need is an avatar. Someone I can work though, someone I can tie myself to on earth. If I can do that, I can keep tabs on the gods and help stop Treize without revealing myself. I need you, Wufei, because you already have a part of me in you. There is no risk involved, as there would be in joining with anyone else."
"I don't trust you. As far as I'm concerned, you're just some wise-ass sorcerer who's seriously deluded. So no, I'm not helping you do anything. Thanks for the story, and the beer, but I have real things to do."
"Howard trusts me."
"So? I'm beginning to question his sanity."
The braided teen leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking tired. "I can't force you. Well, I could, but that's not what I want or need. I want to stop Treize, Wufei, and I know how, or at least how to start. Your people saved you so you could keep their traditions alive. Not go into hiding for the rest of your life."
Wufei stood up, pushing the chair forcefully away from him. "Don't speak of 'my people', you don't have the right! Why don't you just kill Treize? You were certainly too busy to stop everyone from killing themselves!"
Duo snapped forward, the chair's feet slamming into the ground. "I couldn't" he snapped, voice strained. "You have no idea, no idea. I couldn't stop them- I didn't even know what was happening until it was too late! And I can't just kill Treize. If I do, I expose myself and Odin will simply try again. I need to find out why, and I don't want him killing another single person in the hopes of getting at me. And even if I wasn't hiding, I can't. There are rules that keep us from interfering directly on earth, because if we did we, or should I say they, would have destroyed it long ago. No, gods work through humans. If I kill Treize, I'm telling Odin that he can do whatever he wants."
Wufei looked from Duo to the empty mug on the table, and then out to the door. "I need another drink. And some fresh air." He headed for the door, but paused as Duo called out his name softly.
"I can't do this spell again, even this is too risky. If you have anything else to ask, do it now."
Wufei wanted to laugh, but found he couldn't. Duo was just so dammed serious he could almost believe him. Almost.
He stalked out of the room, ignoring the violet fire that flickered and faded in the corner of his eyes, and made his way to the main room, which was crowded and busy.
The room was large, rather smoky but surprisingly bright, hanging globes casting light as they hung from the ceiling. Crystals were expensive, though they held light beautifully, which meant the place was obviously quite popular to afford them. He sat at a single table and motioned to the serving girl that he wanted service.
"What can I get ya, Trader?" She grinned and eyed him appreciatively, but he ignored it, momentarily surprised at being called a Trader, until he remembered his borrowed clothing.
"Beer. Whatever kind it was that you sent up with my friend. And whatever the cook's specialty is."
She nodded. "House special and a beer. I'll be right back."
Wufei nodded in reply, watching her exit to the kitchens. Moments later she re-emerged, a tankard in one hand and a tray heaped with meat and potatoes in the other. The food was far different than the meals of his home, and he grew steadily more angry and depressed as he ate, stewing on the fate that had him alone against a monster of a man.
Exhaustion hit him hard as he finished, the weeks of constant travel catching up to him. Grudgingly, he made his way back upstairs, pausing in front of the door where he could hear Duo and Howard arguing.
"If he just wasn't so damn stubborn!"
"A bit of the pot calling the kettle black in that."
"Yes, but now I'm stuck!"
"Couldn't you just do it without him knowing?"
"Yes, but I don't want to! It makes me no better than Odin and I won't sink to his level."
"You haven't bothered to tell him what he'd get out of the deal. That might sway him."
"I don't want him 'swayed', Howard. I want Wufei, not only because I can anchor with him without endangering his life and I can do it now, but because he's honorable, strong, and incredibly true to his word. I won't buy him, and I don't want anyone who could turn this against me. I trust him."
"It was only a suggestion."
"I know." A sigh, "But we're back to square one. I can't do anything in this form without an anchor, and he doesn't want anything to do with me!"
"You'll have to give him time. You gave him a lot to chew on."
"He doesn't even believe me!"
"And who in their right mind would? Give him time Duo."
He sighed again. "I know, I know. I just don't know how much time I have. Shielding like this is exhausting, and it's frustrating to be so.constrained. And if I slip, I put you both in danger."
"Aye."
Embarrassed (slightly) at eavesdropping, but mind spinning at the overheard conversation, Wufei crept back to the top of the stairs and re-approached, footsteps heavy. He opened the door, Howard sitting on the foot of his bed, and Duo standing in front of the unlit fireplace.
"Feel better lad?"
Wufei scowled. "I'm tired, sore and somewhat drunk. No. I'm going to bed." He realized that the room only held two bedsteads. "I hope you don't expect me to share."
"I don't sleep" was Duo's reply, and Wufei almost believed it. He threw himself on the straw mattress and pulled the blanket over his head. "I want us to be out of here and on a ship by midday."
"Aye lad, that we'll do."
Wufei closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep with the ease of long practice. Everything would be clearer in the morning.
Vaguely, he thought he heard Howard say "Give him time, lad." But he wasn't sure and was too tired to care.
It was easy to make his way into the palace, and Heero grimaced inwardly at the lack of proper defense. He'd killed the previous king little over a month ago and was re-entering the palace the exact same way. It was unfortunate he could not use poison as he had before, but Treize had specified that the attack be 'public'. Apparently, Isadora was proving to be a tougher nut to crack than Malvern or Xi'an.
Of course, Heero mused, making the king's death public was much harder, and increased the chances of his own capture or death a hundred times over. Essentially, Treize had made this Heero's last mission and 'freed' him because he did not expect Heero to return alive.
Every week, the king held an assembly where his people could speak to him directly and bring him their grievances. Stupid really, because it was far too easy for an assassin to slip inside. Dressed in the wear of the desert tribes to the east he slipped inside. Oversized brown pants and a tight, light-coloured shirt, a vest overtop to hide the blade tucked into the small of his back, and everyone assumed he was a true tribesman, despite his foreign colouring.
The king was easy to spot, wearing deep blue and sitting on a golden throne. Royal guards in white and blue with a golden symbol embroidered across their chests stood at attention at the corners of the room, as well as two at the foot of the stairs to the dais. A Maguanac, a desert nomadic nobleman, stood between the guards and the king, heavily armed. All was exactly the same as the last Heero had been here, examining a much older king. Now, the only differences were the figure on the throne- a blonde youth- and the figure beside the throne, also in white and blue, scanning the room. Something about him made Heero study him longer, but he could sense nothing wrong with the boy; save for perhaps how perfectly still he stood, almost as a statue.
The king, Heero hadn't bothered to learn his name, dismissed the current supplicant and motioned to an attendant to allow the next to approach. Heero stepped up behind the man, a true eastern tribesman who failed to notice his shadow. The attendant ignored Heero, thinking he had come with the man.
Fools.
The man knelt before the king, and Heero sprang forward, breaking the man's back as he jumped on him and pushed off again. His blade was in his hand almost instantly. The two guards moved in unison towards him and died in tandem, heads severed from their bodies and covering Heero in blood. Treize had wanted a spectacle, and he would get one these people would talk about in hushed corners for years. The other guards moved now, but were too far away to do any good. The Maguanac charged forward and Heero jumped over him easily, grabbing the man's long hair as he flipped and snapping the fool's neck as he landed. People were screaming in fright and he laughed, exalting in the freedom. After this, he would be free, one way or another.
The king had stood, but hadn't fled. Instead he was holding a sword, jewel-encrusted but sure in his hands. The guards were almost upon them, and more were entering the room at high speed. The strange youth was still immobile and Heero mentally shook his head at the coward, shocked still. He'd probably soiled himself as well, knowing humans.
Heero launched himself at the king. It would kill him- the king couldn't back up to take the blow, and Heero, who was attacking with no consideration for himself, would likely impale himself on the boy's sword. Even if the boy could block the blade, he'd still fall back onto the throne, and Heero could break the king's neck against the ornate chair. A fitting death, really. Treize would approve.
Heero watched as the boy king realized all of this and tried to step aside, but it was already too late.
His blade bit deep into flesh and he felt bones break as he crashed into what felt like a wall. Something cracked against his head, and he screamed in pain as a sword bit into his side, almost all the way through. The auburn-haired teen had moved, so swiftly he'd almost missed it, plucking the sword from the king's hands and pushing him out of the way a moment before Heero struck. Not only that, but he'd taken the force of Heero's dive on his arm, now obviously broken and bleeding heavily. The teen seemed oblivious to the pain he should have been in, slashing at the assassin again, missing by inches as Heero rolled away, clutching his middle.
The king was surrounded by guards now, and the spectators had left. Even if he could attack, he had already failed. Scowling, Heero backed away from the advancing teen, disappearing from sight as he teleported out of the castle and back to his own 'home'.
Never, in all of his missions, had he ever failed. He couldn't believe he'd misjudged the teen so badly. He couldn't believe the teen was human.
Curiously, he lapped at the blood that was on his blade and considered for a second.
He was badly wounded, bit it could wait. He called to the fire and molded it into a sphere, concentrating until Treize's face appeared.
"What?"
"I failed."
"What?"
"The king had a shifter as a guard. I misjudged, and he stopped me."
Heero didn't like the man's smirk. "Well, this is unusual. What do you intend to do?"
"Try again until I succeed."
"Good. Don't contact me again unless you've completed the mission."
"Treize?"
"What?"
"Why didn't you have me kill him when I poisoned his father?"
The smirk grew into a smile. "I need the chaos it will cause if I am to claim Isadora. It's too strong as a united front, I need to separate the tribes. Though I'm surprised you care."
"Hn. I'll make a second attempt after I have healed my wounds." Heero cut the connection and limped out of his room, searching for bandages. He'd return to Masada. But he needed a new plan.
End Part 2
Feedback? *wibbles*
You'll be happy to know (if you've read this far), I
already have the next..six chapters, approximately
written up. They're just waiting to be typed, since
work is giving me a lot of time to write by hand, but
no time on the computer.
Of course, feedback makes me want to spend what little
time I do get typing. *hint hint*
(:./elemental/war2)
