Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Slayers of the Dawn ❯ Part One: the Hunter ( Chapter 1 )

 

Slayers of the Dawn

Part One: the Hunter

 

It was always the same . . .

 

Heero's fist clenched tight around the hilt of his axe as he rose, turning to face the grounds at his back. His eyes narrowed against the waning light of day, piercing the shadows as he beheld the ruins of a once-great city, now merely ash and dust in the wind. Gravel and smoldering rocks crunched beneath his boots as he stepped forward, sliding down the incline, a cough of grey lifting behind him. Slow, monotonous movements echoed around him, the creak of old metal shearing against a back-drop of cloth flapping against the sunlight. Shadows danced across the cobbles; his grasp on his axe shifted, the weapon slipping down to fit more comfortably in his grip as he advanced. He studied the terrain with cool patience, his eyes flashing here and there - alighting on one outcropping of rock before flittering to another. He couldn't see anything at the moment, but he would come. Soon, he would come . . .

 

It was always the same . . .

 

The shearing of metal became louder, gradual and sly; Heero glanced to his right, his gaze slowly creeping along the fields of twisted framework and slabs of stone. It was a graveyard in which he stood - the graveyard of a city long dead, its people either lying in ashes beneath it, or out in the lands beyond, starving what remained of their life away. Here he stood at the world's heart, preparing for the final battle, waiting . . . waiting for him to come.

 

There was a prickling at the back of his neck; the short hairs rose at the base of his skull as a husky sigh of a breath teased along his flesh. The shiver of warning crept its way across his shoulders, down along his spine as he slowly, warily turned to face forward. It was there, before him - waiting.

 

His axe lifted to fit itself within the grip of both his palms as his eyes narrowed. It was a boy, barely shy of manhood where he crouched on a broken section of what may once have been a catwalk, the warped slab of iron-work still attached to a metal beam. The slab soared heavily to the side, gradually catching slow to a halt before falling back to the other side, creaking with the hypnotic time of a pendulum in the silence that grew between them. Despite the movement, the boy remained firm and at ease, his thighs controlling the balance of his own body to mimic that of the iron in motion; he was crouched low, an almost feral light within the warm violet planes of his eyes. Clothed in heavy furs and rough-spun woolen cloaks, his body could hardly be determined as either strong or weak; only the motion of his fore-arms were revealed where the sweater had been drawn up, his elbows resting lax on the mark of his knees. His shoulders were hunched forward, his manner defensive as he stared into Heero, the violet of his eyes burning straight through to devour his soul. Behind him a long, woven thatch of hair flowed with the movement of the pendulum, a graceful tail of chestnut strands that balanced the hard masculinity of the boy's almost soft features, now fierce with warning and the basest hint of a challenge.

 

Heero took a step to the side, the boy's eyes peeling away the core of his mind as he did so. His shoulders coiled, his axe lifting in preparation for attack. The boy watched, silent and unmoving at first, keen gaze riddled with the wisdom of the ages scrawled across their depths. Heero slid forward, spreading his stance -

 

And the boy leapt, lithe body unraveling at once as he soared through the hair, lips splitting to bare inch-long fangs dripping with poison. A flash of his braid whipped behind him like the lash of a cougar, the air between them burning with a bellowing shriek of a million upon a million dead that slashed through his brain like white-hot blades of steel -

 

 

 

Heero started up with a choked gasp, a hand lifting automatically clench within his hair as he features drew back in a vision of severe pain, eyes squeezing shut tight. For a moment it remained - the sharp ache that seared like acid through his brain, devouring his thoughts and burning them into nothing more than a fragmented whisper of pain. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, it diminished - the warning gone without a trace.

 

It may have been only a dream - perhaps even a vision - but the threat was real; with a bare-threaded growl of hatred Heero leapt from his cot, the blanket discarded behind as he caught hold of a few cross-bars of metal, shimmying up through a tiny hole in the ceiling of his chamber. His hands braced themselves on a cross-walk, heaving his body up farther as he grabbed another pipe-line, his movements self-assured by years of habit as he maneuvered through the body of what could only be seen as a maze of twisted metal and electrical wiring. The buzz and hum of com-screens met his welcome as he kicked in a door, swinging down from one level to the beneath him, his boots slamming hard against the floor. Two pair of eyes snapped up at his entrance, one at once dismissing, the other somewhat lingering as Heero glared back.

 

“What's our status?” Heero barked sharply, staring Quatre down until the aqua-blue eyes wavered and fell to the side. Across the room, Wufei was bracing a foot against the wall, slamming his weight down on a single lever as large as he was, the bared muscles of his arms growing taught with the strength it took to do so. He grunted as the lever clicked into place, standing then to draw an arm across his face, wiping away traces of sweat and dust as he tucked a black lock of hair behind his ear.

 

“We are fifty-four clicks to the south of the River, coming up on Bei Rahn.”

 

“Arrival time,” Quatre offered, his voice calm and soothing as he tapped a vid-screen before him, studying the out-print of his calculations. “Approximately three hours.”

 

“You do know where that is, right?” Wufei lifted an eyebrow pointedly, using an oil-cloth to wipe the grime from his arms. He stood in front of Heero, dressed in only a dusty pair of worker's pants and a black-coiled vest, his shoulders and arms marked by a sharp, coiling design that disappeared beneath the thin fabric to trail its way down his chest and along his back. He threw the oil-rag to the side where it caught hold of a shelf of piping, hanging there as Wufei's arms drew up to cross his chest. “Don't think you've fooled us, Heero. We know exactly where you're headed.”

 

Heero deftly ignored this, moving instead to snatch a spear as thick as his arm from the wall. “There's one coming. Be ready.”

 

Quatre started, turning to his vid-screens with a slight frown gathering at his brow. “But . . . there's no sign of -”

 

“There will be.” Heero ripped a second spear from the wall, tossing this at Wufei, who caught it easily with the strength of one who knew its balance well. “It's coming from the east.”

 

“But Heero -”

 

Heero whirled to face the boy, spear snap-lifting to point across the room as if sighting Quatre's pale countenance. For one moment there was a tension that gathered and hung around them as Prussian blue eyes narrowed, filled with such a hard, burning ferocity that not even the coldest chips of stone could replicate in their depths. When he spoke again, Heero's voice was low and intense, hard-edged and sharp. “If you are afraid, then leave, Quatre. If you stay, remember only this: I live for one thing, and one thing alone. I've no use for anything that seeks to stand in my way, and death is the most merciful thing I will offer. Understood?”

 

Jerkily Quatre hesitated a nod, his answer a bit hoarse and unsteady as he whispered, “H-Hai.”

 

Heero, gaze still narrowed, whirled on his heel to leave. Only when the sound of his steps and movements faded did Quatre dare to look to Wufei, who was growling low curses beneath his breath in his native language. Although brave in his own right, the thought of going to Bei Rahn made a cold shudder travel its way down his spine; his words trembled. “This … is madness, Wufei.”

 

The Chinese warrior glanced in his direction and then away, moving over to one of the many monitors. His fingers flew over the screen, taking diagnostics of the ship and mentally tracking what needed to be mended, updated, or replaced. The spear remained firmly in his left hand. “I know.”

 

“He … he can't possibly be serious, can he? Bei Rahn is beneath the dragon cliffs - it's a task of suicide! For us, and the humans already there!”

 

His companion grunted. “ He isn't going for the humans, Quatre. He goes for the Queen.”

 

“The Queen?” Quatre gasped, recoiling in instinctive fear. His eyes widened in disbelief as he tried to absorb the shock those words brought to his already worried mind. For a moment it circled in his thoughts, not quite finding a place to take root in order to allow him to form a sensible reply. “But … that's only a myth - an old wife's tale! He can't truly believe that there's actually a Queen … can he?”

 

Wufei nodded gravely, his mouth a thin line. “Yes, he can. He knows she's real.”

 

“How?” Quatre shook his head, denying the whisper of complete and utter conviction he felt coming from Heero's heart, and the almost sad acceptance coming from Wufei himself.

 

“He's seen her, once. She Marked him.”

 

“That . . .” Quatre closed his eyes painfully, pressing a fist to his heart in a remembrance of the pain that often followed Heero around, especially in his dreams. “I - never realized. I always thought it was from - one of the other kills. I never knew . . .”

 

“As for us, the reports showed human life-forms, did they not?” At the other boy's reluctant nod Wufei gave a decisive sound. “Where humans are, we go.”

 

There was dismissal in his tone - a firmness to brook no more argument. But there was one more thing still bothering Quatre. He anxiously tried to pin-point was it was. To his left another monitor began a low-code-red, while three more dead screens lit up with images of a dragon still faint on the horizon coming their way. From the reports as the Golgothan's sensors traced the dragon over from fang to tail, wing-tip to wing-tip, it seemed rather on the small side - perhaps still a yearling? Nothing to worry about, really … accept that once again Heero had been right in his uncanny ability to sense it.

 

He glanced toward Wufei once more, noting how laid back the warrior was. Apparently he had come to the same conclusion and was even less concerned with the dragonlet approaching their ship. It was then, as Quatre glanced from his human companion to the screens portraying the dragonlet and back again, that the realization came to him and the question burned across his mind. “Wufei …” Black eyes lifted to meet his own. “If there are humans so close to the dragon cliffs - why haven't they been attacked?”

 

~ (…) ~

 

“Duo! Duo, where are you?” Relena lifted her skirts in irritation, her sandaled feet slipping on the rocks as she haphazardly climbed another small hill. Raising both hands to cup her mouth, she took a deep breath, shouting as loud as she could - “DUO!!”

 

“Oi, oi!” a voice chirped back from the ridge beneath her, “Wake up the whole cliffs, why don't you?”

 

Relena screamed and stumbled back, loosing her footing on a patch of small rocks. Her arms flew out desperately as she fell - only to be caught, a hand easily darting out to pluck her from the air and lift her clear off her feet. Desperately she clung to the hand and the arm beyond, burying her face in the chest that filled her vision as she was pulled forward into a cradling hug.

 

“There, there now.” Duo cooed, grinning a little as he pet the honey-blond head at his chest. “No need to panic, princess.”

 

“Duo, you prick!” a fist caught him unexpectedly in the gut, causing him to grunt and withdraw reflexively. Relena glared at him, cornflower-blue eyes snapping in anger as she advanced; he scrambled back, his grin faltering.

 

“Now, don't go doing anything harsh, love.”

 

“Love?” Relena practically spit the word, bristling. “Love?” She pushed him back roughly, forcing him to retreat another few steps. “You miss not only our wedding, but Hilde's Dedication as well, and all you can say is `don't do anything harsh, love?' What about saying, `I'm sorry, Relena, I should have thought before I disappeared for three bloody DAYS!'”

 

Duo blinked, lifting an arm to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. “Wow . . . it's already been three days, huh? Bummer.”

 

Relena's shriek of anger erupted a split-second before he was forced to duck beneath her fist, scrambling up to perch on some rocks clear of her immediate reach. He turned around and sat in one fluid motion, taking hold of his ankles and making sure they were tucked in tight; Relena often had a bad habit of snatching his feet out from beneath him and landing him on his ass or head, whichever was closest to the ground at the moment. It was an old game - now, not so much - since they were children. Although very pretty and typically very self-possessed around others, they had known each other far too long for the nice façade to last when alone. She used to love to trip him up as a child and gloat over him with good-natured jest. Now, she merely used it as a method to express her disfavor with him when vexed. “Aw, come on now, sweetheart. You know I still love you - I truly do. I didn't mean to be gone so long, you know how I am.”

 

“How you are??” She puffed out a growl of aggravation; Duo hastily rubbed his nose along the back of his hand to hide the snicker that image caused. “Yes, I know how you are! You're a nonsensical, absent-minded, self-absorbed idiot!”

 

“Oi,” he responded, wounded. “I'm not self-absorbed.”

 

“Tell that to the Council! And the people! And Hilde!” That made her pause, and force herself to calm. It was hard, dealing with the young man before her, who had never in his life seemed concerned about getting in trouble or taking someone's anger. He wasn't afraid of anything - person, or consequence. Thus his actions were always like the wind, untraceable, unpredictable, and frankly - to him - any punishment was inconsequential. Not for the first time, she wondered if he truly believed himself to be invincible. “Duo … honestly, you really hurt Hilde. She really wanted you to be there and when you weren't …”

 

His violet eyes met hers briefly - he never seemed to look directly at anyone for very long - and in their depths she saw a flicker of understanding and a tinge of what could be regret. He hadn't truly realized, then, what his absence could have meant to anyone else. That was so typical of him, it was almost sad. He opened his mouth as if to reply, yet shut it back just as quickly as his gaze darted up to the horizon. He was on his feet like a shot, lifting a hand to shield his view as he frowned. “We're not supposed to be having any visitors from other cities, are we Princess?”

 

“No. Why?” Relena blinked and glanced in the direction he was; along the farthest reaches of the lands, where the sun was just beginning to set in lovely rays of gold and orange and pink, a shadow could be seen steadily growing larger. At its speed it would arrive at the village shortly, leaving her just enough time to rush back and change her clothes in order to greet them as they drew up. Mentally she reviewed her wardrobe and settled on the darker blue shift and over-lay; it would compliment her hair and bring out her fiancee's eyes. “Duo -” She turned back just in time to see the long chestnut length of his braid disappearing behind a boulder nearly three leaps away. “Duo? Come back here you - you BASTARD!!!”