Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ Flam Gush ❯ Chapter 9

Flam Gush 9

For the second time in two days, Gourry woke up with one pisser of a headache. A quick sensory inventory confirmed that at least this time he was not confined in some dark cell. He seemed to be comfortable, and if the bright red color he was seeing behind his eyelids was any indication, he was in a well-lit room. With a groan, he covered his eyes with his forearm.

A vicious chuckle intruded on his agony, making his head throb even more. “Serves you right, you know,” Lina said—rather loudly too—right by his ear.

“Ow! Lina, do you have to talk so loud?” he demanded plaintively.

“I'm not loud!” Lina exclaimed, if anything even louder, “I'm talking in a perfectly normal voice!”

“Okay, okay,” he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. “Can you at least turn off the lights?”

There was the clatter of wooden rings against the rod as Lina pulled the drapes shut, and the brightness of the room decreased marginally. “That's about the best I can do.” He felt her sit down on the bed next to him, and then the throbbing in his head started to recede.

“Thanks,” he murmured with a heart-felt sigh when she finished with her spell. He had a vague recollection of standing in the muddy alley where Ryan had killed Garik, wondering what he should do next, and knowing that he had very little hope of finding Lina. That had considerably narrowed his options. He could search the city and hope to get lucky—the last time he had done that, it had taken days to find her—he could go back to Siebert's and wait for her, or he could follow Ryan.

He had opted for the latter, mostly because he was hoping that the other man could give him some insight into why she was so upset. Somehow, he had ended up sharing a drink to Ryan's brother, and then another one. Ryan was intent on drinking himself into insensibility, and he insisted that Gourry match him, tankard for tankard. Again, it seemed that his options were limited. He could refuse and insult Ryan, he could leave and let the man drink himself into insensibility on his own, or he could go with the flow, knowing that even if he would remember nothing the next day, he could keep the two of them out of trouble. He remembered thinking that the third option was best, but things got a bit fuzzy after that. He seemed to recall Ryan talking quite a bit, about his brother and about Lina, but that was about it.

He heard her chuckle again. “So, what possessed you and Ryan to get trashed-off-your-asses drunk?”

He swept the pillow away and sat up to look at Lina. “What was I supposed to do after you ran off?” He had not meant for it to sound like an accusation, but it did nonetheless. “By the time I convinced Ryan not to chase after you, you were long gone. I didn't have a hope in hell of finding you at that point.”

Lina blanched and recoiled slightly, but she recovered quickly. “I bet you're hungry,” she said as she stood up and started walking towards the door. “I'll see if Siebert's got something left for you to eat.”

“Lina.” Gourry called softly just as she turned the doorknob.

“Yeah?”

“Please don't run away from me again.” Before yesterday, he would have never believed it possible. He still could not quite fathom what would have made her do that. She was fearless. Death, pain—he had seen how much it cost her to cast some of her spells—nothing slowed her down. Sometimes it took so much out of her that she was weak and coughing up blood afterwards. Somehow, drinking to Ryan's brother scared her more than pain and death. Gourry shook his head again. One thing was certain. Seeing Lina go white and stammer in terror—well, he never wanted to see that again. He was her protector, and he would keep her safe from anything—anything that threatened her.

Lina froze. Then she sighed. “Jellyfish,” she said affectionately, “I'm just getting you some breakfast.” She started to pull the door open, then reconsidered, closing it and leaning her forehead against the whitewashed wood. “I'm sorry about yesterday,” she said softly, her voice muffled, “but I really don't want to talk about it right now, okay?” She quickly left the room, without waiting for him to answer.

He wondered again what it was about Ryan's older brother that bothered her so much. Ryan had been just as clueless as him. All he knew was that Lina had habitually avoided Erik when they were children, although as they got older it had been less of an issue, especially after Erik left home to join a merc band.

The fact that she refused to talk about it just baffled him. Not that she talked much about her past, now that he thought about it . . . but had she ever flatly closed a subject like that? It seemed like she was deliberately trying to forget about whatever it was, and that also confused him. After all, she was always chewing him out for having a brain like a sifter . . . He shook his head. Although he was sure he could live without knowing what was bothering her, he had the distinct feeling that Lina would not be able to keep this buried forever. She needed to get it out of her system, and how else was she going to do that if she tried to keep it bottled up? He wondered if there was a way for him to force her to talk. Threats? No, she would never take them seriously. Bribes? That might work, but what would tempt her? If only he had something particularly shiny, or even magical . . . Food? No, she would just steal his behind his back. Too bad he had given up the Sword of Light . . .

Thinking about the Sword of Light reminded him of his father's dagger. Gourry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, scanning the room. His things were neatly folded on a chair, the smaller version of the Sword of Light leaning against the wall right next to his sword. The dagger had nowhere near the power of the Sword of Light, but it did hide a secret of its own—

Before he could get up to pick up the dagger, Lina bustled into the room, carrying a large tray burgeoning with food. The tantalizing odor of sausages, eggs, pancakes, and, yes, fresh-squeezed orange juice, banished all thoughts of Lina's odd behavior and family secrets.

*******************

Lina watched as Gourry enthusiastically tore into his breakfast. After a moment, he looked up. “Aren't you going to have any?” he asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

“Nah, I already ate,” Lina answered as she snitched a sausage from his plate and stuffed it into her mouth.

“Suit yourself.”

As Gourry devoured the food in front of him with single-minded determination, Lina considered the best way to approach the situation.

In mid-bite, he looked up at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What?” he asked after swallowing.

“Oh, nothing,” she responded airily with a small wave of her hand.

Gourry's eyes narrowed even further. “You're looking at me funny,” he said slowly, “and `nothing' never is. C'mon, give.”

Well, if he was going to insist . . . Lina smiled coyly, twining a strand of hair around her finger. She considered half a dozen openings, rejected each in turn, and finally settled on the one she thought was best. “Siebert really chewed me out last night.” Actually, that was quite the understatement.

She watched Gourry struggle with that one for a bit, as he shoveled the rest of his breakfast down. “I don't get it,” he admitted.

Lina continued, ignoring Gourry's comment for the moment. He would get it soon enough, she thought. “Honestly, I think that man has been alone too long. He seems to think he can order me around just like Shella.” She grimaced slightly. “You'd think I'd committed a crime or something the way he carried on. Apparently I was just supposed to go to the baths and then come back.” She snorted, although she did feel a little chagrined. Siebert had been truly worried about them. Gourry had disappeared the night before—she was still furious that they had tried to hide that piece of information from her yesterday morning—and then they both had gone missing. Still, she did not appreciate the lecture—okay, she had been on the verge of yelling right back at him. But right before she did, Siebert had given her the final piece to a puzzle she had been putting together in her mind. “Once he'd finished berating me, he started in on you and Ryan.” She stared pointedly at Gourry. “I guess he didn't like Shella seeing Ryan passed out like that.” Again, that was putting it mildly. He had been furious. It was easy to see that Shella was sweet on Ryan. “And he was pretty disappointed in you, too. He said something about you being bred better than that.”

Lina was watching Gourry quite closely at that point, and although it was barely perceptible, he flinched. Lina pounced. “What did Siebert mean, Gourry?” She already knew what Siebert meant, but she wanted to see his reaction.

Gourry stared at her. His kept taking a breath as if about to say something, but then he would stop himself. After a few attempts, Lina took pity on him, and she started ticking items off on her fingers. “Let's see . . . you're apparently well-bred, you got a commission at a young age, your mother had enough time on her hands to weave a tapestry, and you have a family device. And, the leading magistrate of Sairaag was incredibly deferential to you.” She shook her head in disgust. That had been a major clue, and she had just missed it. Well, not exactly, but she had let it slide, and it amounted to the same thing. “You're of the nobility, aren't you, Gourry?” she accused. “Or should I say Lord Gabriev?”

“Well . . .” Gourry hesitated. Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but it was not a denial, either.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Lina had stars in her eyes. “I've always wanted a castle of my own,” she said with a grin. “I'm sure yours would do nicely, if it looks anything like the one in the tapestry . . . you are going to give it to me, right?” Lina pictured herself wearing one of those fancy dresses like Amelia wore when she was doing princess-type things. “It would make up for you not giving me the Sword of Light, after all,” she pointed out as she did a pirouette in her imaginary dress. “I'll even share it with you!” Oh, Lina, you're so generous!

Lina was so intent on furnishing her new castle that she was oblivious to the fact that Gourry had not actually said anything in quite some time. Her visions were shattered by the sound of crockery crashing to the ground. The remains of Gourry's breakfast were scattered everywhere, and Gourry was crouched over in a corner, his shoulders heaving. Strange sounds were coming from him, and Lina was not sure if he was retching or sobbing.

“Gourry?” she asked tentatively. Truth be told, she was more than a little scared. She had never seen him sick—not even rotted old orc meat slowed him down. But the thought that solid easy-going Gourry might be crying was even more terrifying.

As Lina moved closer, she quickly discovered that the reason she could not tell if he was retching or sobbing was because he was doing both. “Gourry?” she repeated his name as she gathered his hair back and pulled it out of his face. “Are you okay? Should I get Siebert?” She swallowed hard and tried not to panic. She looked around for a rag or something to wipe his face, but nothing was close at hand.

Gourry weakly shook his head, but she had no idea which of her questions he was trying to answer. Even after emptying out his stomach, and Lina was certain that he should be done, he continued to heave, although nothing came up. Between the strong acidic smell and the sounds he was making, Lina swallowed hard to prevent her own gorge from rising. She continued to pull back stray strands of hair with one hand, while she rubbed his back with her other. He had to stop at some point, right? But, after a few moments, when the spasms that wracked him continued without even slowing, Lina decided that this was beyond her. “Siebert!” she bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Siebert!” She heard the heavy thud of footsteps approaching at a run, and she heaved a silent sigh of relief. “It's okay, Gourry,” she said, thanking all the gods that they were so close to a healer. “It's gonna be okay.”

The door banged open, and Siebert burst through. “What's wrong?” he demanded breathlessly.

“I don't know,” Lina replied tensely. “He just started suddenly, and I don't think he can stop.”

Siebert moved quickly to Gourry's other side. He placed a hand on Gourry's forehead, and sniffed at his vomit. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got a chance, a strange bubbling sound came out of Gourry, in horrific counterpoint to the dry heaves that continued to wrack him. “Can you put him to sleep?” Siebert barked out, looking tense.

“I . . . I . . .” Lina gave up trying to make her voice work and settled for a quick nod.

“Do it!” Siebert's voice cracked like a whip.

A half a dozen emotions flooded through Lina in an instant at the sound of his voice. Panic was at the forefront—he was obviously very concerned about Gourry. Resentment—no one ordered her around like that. And a little bit of awe as well. Lina pushed all thoughts away. Right now, she needed the magic. It was a simple spell, really. One they refused to teach at the Sorcerer's Guild—you had to come up with your own variant or not at all—but most aspiring sorcerers considered it a point of pride to learn the spell, and Lina had been no exception. Within moments, the dry heaves stopped and Gourry's weight started to collapse on her. Lina frantically tried to move out of his way without dumping him on the ground, noting with horror that he was still making that strange bubbling sound.

Fortunately, Siebert was there, and he quickly rolled Gourry off of her and onto his stomach. Lina watched him press on Gourry's back in a sort of rolling motion, starting from his waist and moving up along his spine, then repeating the motion, until Gourry's body jerked, and a thin line of frothy green slime drooled from his mouth. He started to cough weakly. Siebert stopped pressing and laid his ear against Gourry's back, listening intently.

After a very long moment, he stood up and looked at Lina, his face relaxed. “You can cast recovery on him, now, please.” He bustled over to the wooden cabinets and started putting herbs in a small mortar.

Although she was bursting with questions, she knelt down beside Gourry. He had curled up into a fetal position, but at least that wet bubbling sound had stopped. For the second time that day, Lina cast the healing magic on him, and then she turned her attention to Siebert.

“Here,” he said, thrusting a small bucket of water and a rag into her hands. “Help me clean up.” He knelt beside Gourry, wiping around his mouth with a damp cloth.

“Do you know what's wrong with him?” Lina asked as she dunked the rag in the bucket and wrung it out, willing herself not to smell the vomit she was supposed to mop up.

“My best guess,” Siebert said slowly, “would be a hangover.”

“A hangover,” Lina repeated dubiously. It sort of made sense. He had been drunk last night, after all. But . . . “He didn't seem that bad, just a bit headachy is all.”

“There's no sign of infection or poison, though,” Siebert pointed out. “It would be the logical conclusion . . .” he hesitated. “. . . except that he doesn't seem to be very dehydrated . . .” Siebert trailed off as he considered the problem.

“No poison?” Lina echoed Siebert again. “But what about that green stuff . . .” She trailed off as her stomach turned over in protest at the memory. Cleaning up this stuff was bad enough as it was without her adding her own half-digested breakfast to the mess. As it was, she thought it would be a long time before she would be able to eat sausage again. There were so many half-chewed bits, and they were just as likely to crumble when she tried to mop them up.

“That?” Siebert dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “That wasn't poison. Somehow, Gourry started choking on his vomit—it was mostly just bile at that point—that's what came out of his mouth . . . Hopefully he didn't damage his lungs, although your spell should have taken care of that.” He rinsed off his cloth in a small basin of water and looked over at Lina. “Are you almost done?”

“Oh, sure, leave me with the disgusting chore,” Lina muttered under her breath, as she watched Siebert go back to fiddle with his herbs. He could have offered to help her, after all. But, the truth was, she was nearly done anyway. She gave the floor a final swipe, and then she dumped the bucket out the window. She turned around to find Siebert handing her yet another bucket and rag.

“Here, just wipe over the area with this, and then you can wash up in that basin, there.”

Lina grumbled to herself, but she did as she was told. Whatever was in the water had a fresh scent, and it helped to counteract the acid and bile stench that was so strong in the corner. She found herself breathing deeply, trying to rid herself of the memory of those smells. While she cleaned herself off, Siebert slowly dribbled liquid into Gourry's mouth.

“What're you giving him?” Lina asked as she vigorously scrubbed her hands up to the elbows.

“Just something to help restore his strength, combined with a mild sedative,” Siebert replied.

“Why?” It hardly seemed necessary, if he just had a hangover. Although she still had a hard time accepting that explanation. Aside from the vomiting, she was pretty sure that Gourry had been sobbing as well. She felt a cold hand clamp around her heart.

“Because I don't want him flailing about until I'm sure that his lungs are fine,” Siebert replied, distracting her from her thoughts. “Just a precaution is all.”

Lina stared at him. “You sure don't take any chances, do you?” Although, considering how long he had made her stay in bed, all the medicine he had made her swallow, and how he had reamed her for “overdoing it” yesterday, Lina thought she was putting it mildly.

Siebert gravely returned her look. “I'm a healer. Taking chances can put my patient at risk.”

“Gourry and I almost never get this kind of care, you know,” Lina pointed out. “I can't remember the last time I spent days convalescing.”

“Well, can you remember the last time you got sliced open with a poisoned and diseased blade?”

Lina shook her head. At the moment, she had no real desire to pursue this particular conversation. There was something far more important she needed to know from Siebert. “You knew Gourry, before.” It was not a question. “Didn't you.”

*******************

A cool slim hand tenderly smoothed hair away from his brow. It felt vaguely familiar, but his head felt thick and muzzy, and trying to figure out how or why such a touch would be familiar seemed to require too much effort. So he just sighed a bit and leaned into the touch.

“Gourry?” A soft voice by his ear.

“Mmm . . .” Talking also seemed to require more effort than he could be bothered to spare.

“How do you feel?”

How did he feel? He felt . . . strange . . . sleepy, but not tired . . . or was it the other way around? And there was something . . . something that he was supposed to be doing? No, that was not quite right. Something . . .

“Gourry?” The voice sounded a bit sharper than before—it was Lina, he realized suddenly, and she sounded unhappy. Why did his head feel so thick? He knew he was no genius or anything, but trying to think did not usually feel like he was pushing through bales of wool. One thought came through, though, with almost painful clarity. Lina was upset. And he had to protect her.

He forced heavy eyes open. “Lina? What's wrong?”

A single tear snaked its way across her cheek, and she shook her head. “You jellyfish,” she accused. “Why didn't you ever tell me?”

Her words echoed through his mind, breaking through the woolen layers and loosing those memories that had been lurking at the edge of awareness for days now—since finding the tapestry. A terrified servant—he was just a cook's assistant—on the edge of death; half of his face was badly burnt, but he had escaped to bring two things. A message: his home destroyed; his family slaughtered. And a sword: his family's pride—a blade he would gladly exchange to have them back again.

Disbelief and shock. He had to see for himself. There had to be some kind of mistake. Who would attack his family? How could this happen? And where were their allies, their vassals, those sworn to protect? He had vague impressions of obtaining his release from the mercenary band, and setting off on his own—the lone escapee had died, his message and precious package delivered. The trip home was a nightmare. He would run until he could run no further, collapse into an exhausted sleep, only to be awakened by nightmares of the unknown that awaited him, and he would run and run and run . . .

He was vaguely aware that he was crying. That Lina was holding him and stroking his hair, murmuring to him. But he was caught in the grips of the memory of that morning. Before he topped the rise, he had known that at least part of what the servant had told him was true. For days he had seen the smoke, too thick to be from a simple fire, too sparse and constant to be a burning forest. He told himself over and over that the servant could have exaggerated. But what he saw convinced him that the servant had not even come close to giving him the full of it.

Gabriev Keep was no more. The wooden palisade that surrounded the keep was mostly gone; what remained was charred and smoldering. It would scarce have kept a herd of sheep contained, let alone prevent an attack. The once-white tower was also charred with smoke, what was left of it, that was. One side had been completely smashed into rubble.

Perhaps the worst thing that he saw—the thing that chilled him to the bone—was the lack of activity. How many days had it been? He had lost count, but surely, it had been long enough for them to clean up, for the dead to be buried and the fires put out, for the rebuilding to start. The only movement came from huge black clouds of raucously cawing ravens feasting and fighting each other for choice morsels. His empty stomach heaved once again from the memory. Family, friends, all were now fodder for the scavengers.

Somehow, he had made it to the keep, where he was greeted with the sight of his father and brother's severed heads and hands staked up on pikes in front of the shattered bridge that led from bailey to motte. At least, he was pretty sure they were his father and brother. The eyes had been pecked out, and what flesh remained on them was in tatters, victim of the ravens' feeding. The only identifier was the long blond hair, some still clinging to scraps of flesh on the skull, most of it scattered in patches on the ground below the grisly trophies.

Gourry quietly wept, burying his face in Lina's hair. If only that were the worst of it. In the ruins of the kitchen, he had found what remained of his father and brother's corpses . . . his stomach lurched again, and he tried to shut out the memory.

“Sshh,” Lina soothed him, her hands surprisingly tender as they smoothed his hair. He could hear the tears in her voice. “It's over now, it's long past.”

“Someone ate them!” The words burst forth, accompanied by the overpowering image of the two naked bodies, headless and handless, their skin browned and crackling. They were laid out on huge platters in the center of the table. A sharp knife embedded in the table had carved meat off the bone of arms and legs in neat slices—some pieces were still sitting on the pewter plates set around the edge of the table. “Someone cooked my father and brother and carved them like they were cattle!”

He heard Lina's hissed intake of breath.

There was no one alive in the entire tower. The villagers who had lived on the bailey were gone. Dead or fled, probably some of both. He would never know. There were so many bodies. Some partially burned. Some hacked and mutilated. Men. Women. Children. Old and young. Left to rot in the sun like so much garbage while flies crawled around in their innards, spawned in the dark shadows of empty eye-sockets.

Time ceased to have any meaning. He worked, digging graves in the tamped earth of the bailey. He slept. He woke and dug more graves. He was the only one left. He was the Lord's son. It was his final duty, his final obligation. And when it was finished, he left. No more a lord's son. He would get rid of the Sword of Light—it was all that was left. The keep had been gutted, everything had been taken, except for the dead. There was just him, and the Sword, and once he threw it into the sea, there would just be him. Just Gourry.

“Just me,” he whispered. “Everyone else dead or gone. Everything taken or destroyed. Just me left.”

“Oh, Gourry,” Lina whispered back. “I'm so sorry.”

“You know what's worst, though?” he asked, his voice still no louder than a whisper. “The worst is that I wasn't there. They all died, and I wasn't there.”

Lina said nothing at first. The hand that had stroked his hair slowed and then stilled. “If you had been there . . .” She paused and took a deep breath. “Gourry, if you had been there . . . you might have . . . you might have died, too.” Her arms tightened around him.

She was right. He knew that she was. It did nothing to ease the pain or the guilt. He should have been there to help, to protect the weak, to his death, if need be.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” she whispered.

“What was I supposed to say?” he demanded harshly. “`Hey, Lina, by the way, my whole family was killed. Can you pass the potatoes?'”

She flinched back away from him, and instantly, he regretted speaking to her like that. “I'm . . . I'm sorry,” he said, dropping his head. “The truth is . . . I didn't want to think about it. So I didn't.” After his abortive attempt to get rid of the Sword of Light, he had wandered a bit, looking for a purpose. Eventually he had found Lina. By that time, he had stopped seeing the Sword of Light as a painful reminder, and saw it as his family's legacy. It was as if somehow, by defeating great evil with it, he was also avenging them. It helped ease the ache.

“No, I'm the one who's sorry,” Lina said quietly. “All the hints were there in front of me. I should have realized there was a reason why you, and Sylphiel,” she added as an afterthought, “didn't want to talk about it. Even Siebert was pretty evasive.”

“Siebert told you?” That surprised Gourry.

“No,” Lina said quickly. “Not really. Just today. You were so upset. I didn't know what to do. I knew Siebert knew you from before, so I asked him if something had happened. All he'd say was that if I didn't know, he wasn't going to be the one to tell me. He was kinda upset, though, so I knew it couldn't be good.”

So Siebert had left the telling to Gourry. For some reason, that made him feel better. It was his story, after all. How could a stranger truly understand the horrors of his past? And for all that Siebert had been at Gabriev Keep briefly, and had known Gourry as a boy, he was still mostly a stranger, as nice as he was.

Gourry took a shaky breath and pushed himself up from the cot. He had put this off long enough. Now was as good a time as any.

“What are you doing?” Lina asked. Her voice was still subdued.

“This.” Gourry picked up the dagger he had claimed from Ryan the night before.

“Your father's dagger?”

“Yeah.” Holding the blade at an angle over the cot, he pressed on a hidden stud, and the blade came free, thunking into the blanket.

Lina gasped. “Is it . . . is it like the Sword of Light, then? I thought there were only five—”

“Not exactly,” Gourry cut her off. “It was made to look like the Sword of Light, to be half of a matched set.”

His father should have carried both this weapon and the Sword of Light in the final battle that claimed his life. Gourry had never been able to figure out how the servant who had found him had managed to get the blade to him. He held his breath as he gently shook the empty hilt over the cot. Two objects fell out. One was his father's signet ring, stained with blood. The other was an intricately braided coil of hair, bound on each end with a blue silk thread.

Gourry snatched up the braid with a shocked intake of breath. “That's . . . that's impossible!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Lina asked. “What's wrong?”

The braid was made up of four distinct strands of hair. Two of them, both corn-silk blond, were dry and brittle, and had frayed when he picked up the coil. The other two, one a mate to the other two in color, and one a pale strawberry blonde, were supple and shiny. He shook his head in disbelief, but his eyes gave him the same image.

“What is it?” Lina repeated, a bit more insistently.

He barely even heard Lina as he stared at the braid in his hand. There was no way . . . he had searched the entire keep. After pulling all the bodies from the wreckage of the keep—many of them burned and badly damaged—there was no doubt . . . His mother could not be alive . . . could she?