Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Skywind ❯ Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9 )

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Gundam Wing, and I do not make any money from the writing of this fanfiction.

 

Chapter 9

 

Many fought for this land, millennia ago.

 

Quatre's eyes flickered briefly from the darkness surrounding them to Lian, then away again. He was using an old soldier's trick Lian had taught him, not looking directly at the campfire so as not to be blinded by its light. They had made it to the edge of Ransem Wood; hopefully they would reach Hitsome within the next day and a half and he would be rid of the annoying dandy.

 

His eyes flickered to the sleeping form of Duo, and he sighed, admitting to himself that Duo had grown on him over the past few days. It must be his one saving, he thought in half-disgust.

 

I thought I was telling you a story, Lian said, sounding miffed. If you aren't going to pay attention…

 

Sorry, Lian. Keep going, please, Quatre said hastily.

 

The reanlos' tail switched in a sign of his annoyance, then he went on. In the age of Chaos, there were no kings or queens, no government as you humans know it now, no laws enforced by the neighborhood Watch. There was only power, and those with the will to use it. This land, which you humans now call Lantall, was coveted by those with strength.

 

Why? Quatre asked, when Lian paused, scenting the air.

 

There is something… Lian said, sounding distracted. No, never mind. Lantall was…desired because of the natural power that lies within its ground.

 

Quatre frowned. I don't understand. What do you mean, natural power?

 

I have explained to you about wild magic, have I not? Lian sounded tired. Human magic is…unnatural, power drawn from forces outside this world. Wild magic is…the threads that bind this world together, the power that exists in all magical creatures, the power that is inherent within the sylven people. It is thus that the sylven people, whom so many call “unnatural,” are actually the ones that belong more truly to this world.

 

Yes, I know what wild magic is, Quatre said impatiently. What does it have to do with Lantall?

 

This country, for whatever reason, possesses a tremendous amount of wild magic within its land. It is the reason Lantall is known to be the home of so many magical creatures, and the sylvens, despite human resistance to their presence. They know the true strength of Lantall. And so, thousands of years ago, did the human mages that resided here. And back then, there were no Laws of Balance to stop them from trying to take the power that they wanted.

 

But there were other people, Quatre said softly. There were people who knew that it wasn't right to take from the land without giving in return.

 

Yes. And so, in that time, there arose two kinds of people: the greatest heroes that ever lived, and the greatest monsters to ever walk this earth. Battle upon battle was fought, sylvens versus humans, humans versus themselves, magical creatures versus all who encountered them. There was only one woman, in that time, that dared to befriend human, sylven, and wild creatures alike. She lost her home and family as a young girl, fled to the wilds to live among the wild things like a wild thing herself, only to grow in such power that she became a threat to those who threatened to destroy the Balance of this world.

 

Quatre's eyes were bright as he kept his gaze on the darkness of the woods. “She must have had tremendous courage.”

 

Lian chuckled inside his mind. Her first encounter with a minor demon resulted in her fleeing for her life. Of course, she was five years old at the time, so perhaps she had an excuse.

 

“Knowing when to fight and when to run away is a part of courage,” Quatre pointed out. “That is what you told me, is it not?”

 

Yes. And that first encounter was what started her on the path of demon hunting, for that demon stole something very precious to her. It took her five more years to track the monster down, and another year to kill the creature. She learned much in that time period.

 

Quatre listened in fascination. “She was a child, barely eleven. Yet she was able to kill a demon?”

 

The Dark Defender was an extraordinary individual, yes.

 

“That is what she came to be known as? The Dark Defender?”

 

Yes. Her true name has been long lost. She hunted demons relentlessly, and swore allegiance to none. Well, that is not entirely true. There was one from whom she would occasionally accept orders - Jessan Coren. But theirs was more a partnership, though the Dark Defender was instrumental in establishing Jessan as the first king of Lantall. Say rather that Jessan was the blazing fire that pulled the land together, and the Dark Defender was the fuel to make certain the fire did not fade.

 

“Tell me their story,” Quatre whispered, feeling a strange pull, a need to know.

 

Their story would be many, many nights in the telling, and I am tired. Enough for now. Wake me at the second hour after midnight, and I will take the rest of the watch. I will continue this story another time. Lian shifted to lie down on his belly, and shut his eyes.

 

Duo lay on his side away facing away from Quatre. It was nice to know his guide had a fascination for the Age of Chaos. His cousin Milliardo had an enormous library, filled with rare papers and books, some of them from that time, considered extremely precious. He could use that as a bargaining tool to keep Quatre with him when the time came to persuade him to accompany him to Cliffbreak. He did not have much time left before Quatre would want to leave him in Hitsome and return to his wilderness.

 

***

 

Trowa Barton stood on the peak of a hill overlooking the carnage below him, and it was only by the fiercest act of will that the mage did not throw up. He stood looking at - not a battlefield, for on a battlefield there were two sides fighting. This has had been a slaughter, a merciless elimination of human life.

 

A single leap boosted by his crimson magic brought him from the hill to the center of the field. As he stood in silence, his crimson and gold power swirling about him, the lingering spirits of those who had been so coldly slain began to gather about him, drawn as surely to him as a predator is to its prey.

 

But Trowa Barton was no prey. The dark mage lifted his head, and his eyes glittered with tears for the first time in many years, but the tears did not fall. He had known the people whose bodies lay mangled in endless pools of blood. They were a wandering clan of gypsies, the Arami people, who were known for their kindness and willingness to take in homeless strangers. He himself had lived with these people for some time, until the ancient memories of who he had been had awakened, and he had left on a personal quest to regain lost knowledge and weapons. The Arami people were loyal to a man to Lafania of Lantall, the first ruler in several generations to treat them as a people, and to a man they lay dead on this field.

 

Trowa drew a single arrow from his quiver and drew it back to his ear. The arrow flew straight and true into the moonlight, and with it flew the lingering spirits as Trowa's spell opened a gate between the living world and the realm of the spirits.

 

Trowa watched them leave, and spoke, though they could no longer hear him. “For the crimes that have been committed this night, I will deal out justice tenfold. This I swear by the title that was mine millennia ago, the title of Dark Defender. I swear upon my bow the Dark Shield that the Arami people will not be forgotten, and for you all I will take a new name.” His fingertips curled around the bow and pressed so tightly that they turned white as Trowa began to tremble - not just with grief, but with rage. “I am the Arami's Vengeance.”

 

***

 

“Your majesty! Your majesty, please, listen to me!”

 

Annabel lifted her gaze from the book of magical spells she was perusing. Several of her guards were occupied with restraining a man from entering her entertainment hall. Several courtiers stirred, glancing with disapproval at the interruption.

 

Annabel frowned. The man seemed frantic. “Let him come!” she called commandingly to her guards. Grudgingly, they allowed him passage into the room.

 

He tore across the room and fell at her knees, eyes streaming tears of agony and heartbreak. Lafania gasped as she realized the man bore several mortal wounds, wounds that should have killed a man. “My queen, they are dead!” he said, his voice of utter despair.

 

“Who?” Annabel demanded, fear leaping within her as she recognized the man as an Arami gypsy. She often allowed their clan to camp on her personal lands, something few others chose to do.

 

“Everyone, majesty! Every Arami man, woman, and child!” The man sobbed. “I alone escaped, because I ran like a coward at the beginning!”

 

Annabel went very still inside. A part of her cried out in denial, but the cold, hard part of her that took command in such situations calmly recognized that the man was telling the truth. The complete anguish in his face was proof of that. That established, she took the next logical step. “Who attacked your people?” she asked distantly. Those of her personal guards who knew her well began to get nervous. That cool, distant tone had never meant good things for the ones it was directed at.

 

The man opened his mouth, desperately tried to speak, but black fires erupted from his skin and he screamed in agony instead, falling on his back and rolling in agony. The cold, analyzing part of Annabel noted that it was a death spell, and took action. Gold fire lashed from the queen's hands as she battled to lift the spell from the only survivor of the slaughter. The queen's face went dead white with effort as the black fires blazed more fiercely, and those present in the hall gasped.

 

Abruptly, a side door banged open and Milliardo Peacecraft tore across the hall to Annabel's side. He gripped Annabel's shoulders, and a blazing violet aura rose in the air about him as he joined his power to his queen's.

 

The black fires roared to a screaming fury, then just as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished. Annabel was slumped in Milliardo's grip, his hands the only thing keeping her upright.

 

“Is he alive?” she asked hoarsely, her eyes on the gypsy, who was still and silent, his eyes shut, showing no sign of life.

 

“Barely,” Milliardo answered. “He's locked in a coma that will kill him if those wounds aren't seen to.”

 

His words caused Annabel to straighten. “Get me the best healer we have!” she snapped at the nearest guard. “NOW!” The guard ran.

 

Milliardo shook her, catching Annabel's attention. “What happened to that man?”

 

Annabel closed her eyes as grief poured fresh into her. “The Arami people have been slaughtered.” She swallowed. “That death spell was a demon's. They were destroyed by a group of powerful demons.”

 

Milliardo ignored the gasps of horror that ran throughout the hall at his queen's words. “Where?” he asked urgently. “Where were the Arami people?”

 

Annabel's eyes opened at his tone. “They were…heading for the northern edge of Ransem Wood when last I heard from them.”

 

“Oh, gods,” Milliardo breathed in something close to pure panic. The demons were on a direct course of collision with his cousin and the Winner boy.