Slayers Fan Fiction ❯ Flam Gush ❯ Chapter 10

Flam Gush 10

Lina ground her teeth in frustration. They were on their way back to Deremar's keep, for lack of a better plan, although it was the last thing Gourry wanted to do. He was hell-bent on tracking down his mother—even though the only clue they had was a strand of her hair. Lina had easily detected the magical aura. It was a simple enough spell: life-energy focused on the hair gave an automatic “life” detector. The exact reason for doing such a thing was beyond her, though. So what if you had something to tell you if someone was alive or dead? If you were there, you would know, and if not, well, you were kind of helpless to do anything, either way. Lina thought it would make a lot more sense to have a warning device that would tell you if your loved ones were in danger. At least that way you could maybe do something about the situation. But when she asked Gourry about the purpose of putting magicked hair in the pommel of a dagger, he just gave her a clueless look—the one that always made her teeth itch.

At any rate, right after he realized that his mother was alive, Gourry's first reaction was to drop everything and run off to find her. Lina grit her teeth yet again. She only had the vaguest idea of what had happened to Gourry's family. She knew that his father and brother were dead—her stomach clenched at the thought of somebody eating them—but that was about it. Even under the influence of Siebert's sedative, Gourry had been pretty upset, and Lina was almost positive that plaguing him with questions was the worst thing she could do. In spite of that, she really wished she had more details. Actually, that was putting it rather mildly. She was going slowly insane. She knew she was missing all the pieces to the problem, but she kept thinking that if she could put them all together in just the right way, everything would make sense. So far, the solution eluded her, and the fact that it dangled right beyond her reach added insult to aggravation.

On top of everything else, her new clothes were rough, and they chafed something awful. Every time she shrugged or twisted to relieve the pinching in one spot, something would dig in somewhere else. She knew it was just a matter of breaking them in, and all they needed was a couple of thorough washings, but that did little to improve her current mood. She glared at Gourry's back, knowing it was foolish, but he had picked out the clothes, after all.

“Don't do that, Lina.” Gourry said quietly. It was the first he had spoken since setting out for Deremar's several hours earlier.

“What?”

“Glare at me like that.”

“What makes you think I was glaring at you?”

“You suddenly started stomping,” Gourry replied with a shrug as he turned around to look at her. “And, I got this prickly feeling between my shoulders, too.”

Lina felt prickly on her back, too, but not because someone was glaring at her. It was the stupid bra straps. Why had she ever envied Amelia for her “proper” underwear? Her old yellow bandeau had been so much more comfortable! She glanced up at the cloud-covered sky, wondering how much longer she could take this before the urge to blow something up became overpowering. Where were the bandit gangs when you needed them?

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Lina snapped back in annoyance, absentmindedly scratching at her throat. Even her cloak seemed to be chafing uncomfortably.

Gourry looked at her, his eyes tracing the path of her fingers, making her feel self-conscious, so she dropped her hand to her side. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop looking at her like that, but before she got the words out, she heard the distant peal of thunder.

“Looks like there's a storm coming,” Gourry pointed out, glancing over her shoulder.

Lina grunted noncommittally as she turned to take a look. Although it was just overcast in front of them, dark clouds roiled behind them, and she felt the breeze pick up. Great. Just lovely. On top of everything else, it looked like she could add slogging through the rain to today's list of aggravations. She turned back to Gourry, but he had already started walking again. After staring at his back for a few seconds, Lina shrugged and half-jogged to catch up to him.

They walked along in a strained silence. Half a dozen times, Lina considered apologizing, but she talked herself out of it each time. She had no idea exactly why she should apologize. If anyone was owed an apology around here, it was probably her. Here she was, stumbling around half-blind—in more ways than one, she thought in annoyance, as she pushed her hair out of her face for the umpteenth time. She had no clear target, no clear objective. In fact, that was the problem—how was she supposed to deal with everything that had come up? Left to her own devices, she would head straight for the Elmekian Empire and find out who had destroyed Gourry's home and family. Then she would hunt them down and make them pay. Whoever they were, they would rue the day they crossed Lina Inverse! Unfortunately, there were two problems with that plan. First, Gourry was oddly reluctant to head towards Elmekia, even though it seemed the most logical place to start, as far as she was concerned. And second, she needed more information, and for the life of her, she had no idea how to get it without hurting Gourry.

The truth was, Lina felt guilty for bringing the whole thing up about his lineage in the first place. Not that it was her fault, at least not exactly . . . okay, maybe it was her fault . . . at least a bit. Gourry could have told her, but he had chosen not to. And then she had pushed him, so full of her own little fantasies she was oblivious to his reactions . . . That was the part that kept nagging at her. She had no way of knowing that talking about his title would upset him—she knew that—but she should have noticed. There was simply no excuse. Now, she had no idea what to say. And, apparently, neither did Gourry . . . not that that was unusual . . . . They had said little to each other over the past day or so, just argued about where to head next. She hated feeling this way: awkward, like she was walking on eggshells and had to choose her words carefully. But, since she had no idea how to fix it, she held her silence. It did little to improve her mood, though.

Neither did the big fat raindrops that were starting to fall. Within moments, the rain moved from sporadic to downpour, turning the dirt path they were following into a slushy quagmire. Lina stopped thinking about feeling awkward and guilty at that point and focused on watching her footing. She had absolutely no control over how drenched she was getting, but she could do her best to avoid taking a tumble in the mud.

By evening, the rain showed no signs of letting up, and she and Gourry were soaked from head to toe. If she thought her clothes had chafed before, it was nothing to the way they were binding and sticking now. She felt like she was carrying Amelia piggy-back, and her boots squelched with each step she took. This was not what she had in mind, when she had thought of giving her new clothes a thorough washing. As she concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, her only coherent thought was a vague memory of once upon a time, when she had been dry.

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

Gourry glanced across the fire as Lina stripped out of her wet clothes. By some stroke of luck, they had stumbled across a small woodcutter's shack. It was little more than a hovel, but it was snug and dry, and under the circumstances, far better than sleeping out in the rain. Her back was turned toward him, and she was in the process of peeling off her leggings. They clung to her like a second skin, and she was grunting in frustration. He turned his attention back to his armor. The last thing he needed was for the leather straps to dry the wrong way. At best, they would chafe until they stretched back into the right shape. At worst, he would need to get them replaced, and neither prospect appealed to him.

Although he had trouble putting his finger on the reason, he felt angry. Not with Lina, but angry nonetheless. Frustrated to realize his mother was still alive, after all this time. For years, he had believed her dead, along with his father and brother, and everyone else. What was her life like, now? He knew what men did with captured women. Rank was no protection from . . . He shook his head violently, refusing to consider the possibility. He wanted to keep his memories of his mother pure, not sullied by sordid and brutal images. Where was she now? Was she a common slave? Someone's trophy? Something worse? Had she been waiting for him to find her? All he knew for certain was that he had failed. And that failure was tantamount to betrayal of his blood.

Betrayal. It was an ugly word. An even uglier feeling. Who was the woman he had buried next to his father and brother? A maid? A cook? One of his mother's ladies? Not that it really mattered. None of it changed the fact that he had somehow mistaken another woman for his mother, abandoning her to some unknown fate. Unknown . . . no, he knew. His imagination was only too eager to whisper suggestions to his mind. He shook his head violently, yet again, trying to purge the images. Betrayal. He had failed his family, failed his blood. Now, he was flailing about blindly, and it was too little, too late. What could they hope to find at Deremar's? The only thing that was there was the tapestry and a town out for their blood . . .

He finished working oil into the last of the leather straps on his armor, and started arranging it near the fire when Lina started to mutter furiously under her breath. Although her words were indistinct, it was clear she was anything but happy, and he glanced up to see her struggling with the clasp on her new bra. He felt another surge of anger, and this time the feeling was directed at Lina. They were alone—really alone—for the first time in who knows how long, and here they were, on either side of the fire, barely speaking to each other, and Lina had her back turned to him. Why was it that right after he finally got her to open up to him, to acknowledge the feelings they had for each other, they suddenly run into her former lover?

Ryan obviously still had strong feelings for Lina, in spite of being dumped by her. And Lina, just as obviously was carrying around a lot of baggage related to Ryan, but he could not for the life of him figure out what it was. Something about the entire situation was just off. There was a certain wistfulness about her whenever she was around Ryan, a certain sense of . . . regret? Yes, that was it. It was so unlike her. She never looked back. That was a source of her strength. But now . . . all he knew was that she refused to talk to him—about anything. He was so used to hearing her chatter on about whatever, even if his thoughts tended to wander whenever she talked. This brooding silence, on top of everything else, was setting him on edge.

With a vicious oath, Lina gave up on the clasp, and started rooting through her clothes, looking for something. In one smooth motion, Gourry stood up, closed the small gap between them and unhooked her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders. He could see red welts from where they had dug into her flesh. Lina snatched up her discarded chemise and covered her front, which only served to heighten his annoyance. Gourry knew he should back away from her before he did something stupid, but instead, he ran a finger down her back, tracing the length of her spine. Lina shivered, and he saw the gooseflesh rise on her arms, but she gave no other outward reaction.

For the life of him, he could not figure her out. The moment stretched. Lina stopped breathing and he was hunkering down behind her, close enough to touch her, but not touching her. What did she want? Did she just wish he would go away? Maybe she did. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and drawn together. But it was so unlike Lina to just let things happen to her. If she wanted him to go away, all she had to do was say so. He hated seeing her sit there doing nothing. He wanted her to do something, say something, anything would be better than seeing her like this.

Gourry slammed his fist into the floor, and Lina flinched, and then curled herself into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees and hiding her face. Her damp hair shimmered in the firelight, forming a curtain around her body.

How could he get her to talk?

“Tell me about that Shabadingo guy.” The words popped out before Gourry even had a chance to realize what he was saying.

“What?” Lina stared at him incredulously over her shoulder.

“You know, that guy who cut the other guy into pieces? Shaba-something-or-other, right?” Gourry prompted, feeling mildly encouraged. Somehow, he had managed to surprise her, and she was at least reacting more like normal self.

Her brow furrowed for an instant. “Shabranigdo,” she responded almost automatically. “His name is Shabranigdo, and he wasn't just `some guy.'” She paused, and then turned her head back to face the wall, which also meant that she was looking away from him. She pulled her chemise on and then turned to face him, her eyes hard. “You don't want to know about Shabranigdo,” she said flatly.

Gourry felt a cold hand clamp around his heart. He had never seen Lina turn that particular look on him, as if she was ready to do battle. Well, it was an improvement over the flinching and hiding, but not by much. “No,” he said after a moment, struggling to keep his tone even. “I could care less about Shabra-what's-his-face.”

Lina flushed with anger. “Why don't you just say what you really mean, then?” She asked harshly. “Ask me the question you really want the answer to.” She looked so tight and brittle, kneeling opposite him, as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces if something brushed past her.

She had given him the opening he had been seeking for days. But now, as she glared balefully at him, the words refused to come.

While holding her gaze, Gourry reached under his tunic and pulled out his father's signet ring. He had been wearing it on a leather thong tied around his neck—it just felt wrong to wear it on his hand, as if he was claiming something that was not his right. The ring was large and ostentatious anyways, appropriate for the lord of the keep. It was heavy gold worked with niello, and set with a large deep blue sapphire. Without looking at the ring, he untied the thong that held it around his neck and placed it on the floor between them.

Lina stared at him. The fire cracked and popped in counter-point to the rain drumming steadily upon the roof, as the anger drained out of her and a kaleidoscope of emotions flicked across her face: pain, sorrow, curiosity, hope . . . and then, nothing. She stretched out her hand, but just before she touched the ring, she froze in the act of reaching out, then her hand curled into a soft fist, and she pulled it back half way. Gourry felt the cold hand clamped around his heart turn to ice, and the moment stretched out. Finally, her face softened ever so slightly. “Do you know what you're asking?” she whispered.

Gourry felt his heart start to beat faster against the ice that gripped it. He had managed to surprise her, that much was certain. Whatever she thought he was going to ask, clearly this was not it. But her question also took him by surprise. Did he know what he was asking? Oh, he knew, and he nodded once in response. He wanted her: to be with him, to stay with him, and for her to know. The ring was a symbol, really, for the words he left unsaid. The silence stretched out between them, and he could see the wheels turning in her head, see her considering.

Finally, she broke the silence. “It was your father's ring, right?” she asked simply. “His signet, right?”

Gourry nodded again.

“If I take this ring, your father's ring,” she said slowly, “I'll be taking a lot more than a trinket.” She swallowed, then licked her lips, her eyes boring into his.

He wondered if she truly understood what he was trying to do. Actually, he wondered if he himself truly understood what he was trying to do. He just wanted everything out in the open. His secrets, her secrets. Yes, that was a part of it, but only a small part. He wanted them to be comfortable again. They had no chance of doing anything about his mother or Deremar if they kept dancing around each other.

Lina swallowed again, but she maintained eye contact. “But, I've already got the protection of the Gabrievs,” she pointed out, “because you've already sworn to be my protector.” Her eyes softened a bit more, and he felt the ice clamped around his heart melt in response. “It's the one thing you've never forgotten in all the time we've been together.” She hesitated briefly. “So, there must be more to it than that.”

Was there more? He shook his head ever so slightly, as half-remembered stories of knights pledging their troth to sighing ladies with a ring insinuated themselves into his thoughts. He had always wondered what a troth was. Did Lina want his troth? He felt the slightest hint of panic, because if that was the case, he was in trouble. He sincerely doubted that Lina would be happy if he asked her flat out.

“Say something.” There was just the faintest hint of frustration in her voice. “I want you to tell me exactly what you think you're asking me to do.”

“First, will you answer a question for me?” Gourry stalled, trying to gather his wits. What had he gotten himself into? First, they were not talking, then they were fighting, then Lina was acting normal, and now she was mad again.

“That depends on the question,” she replied evenly, but the hard edge was back again.

He opened his mouth to ask her what a troth was, but changed his mind at the last second. “What's the deal between you and Ryan?” he blurted out, regretting the question almost immediately as Lina blanched. Maybe he should have stuck with the troth, after all.

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

Lina recoiled visibly from Gourry's question. It was the one she had steeled herself for initially, before he had placed his father's ring on the dirt floor between them. That had certainly taken her by surprise, and she felt a welter of conflicting emotions. There it was again, the specter of marriage. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Both. Neither. The only problem was that she had no idea if Gourry knew what offering the ring meant. Stupid jellyfish. When the guy offered the ring to the girl, it usually meant a marriage proposal. Everyone knew that. But Gourry was notorious for not knowing what everyone knew. She wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to be sure, not just about the symbolic nature of the exchange, but also that he understood what he was asking of her. No more misunderstandings about boiled eggs and whatnot. She wanted it all spelled out, for both of them. But first . . . would she answer the question he had asked? The one she had been dreading?

She had absolutely no desire to talk about it. She had told him that. She did not want to think about it. She hated the hot burning feeling—panic—that danced at the edge of her thoughts whenever she nudged too close to the memories of that time, when Ryan had broken their engagement. She felt a flare of anger, and she seized the emotion. Gourry may think he wanted to know the story about her and Ryan, but she seriously doubted he was ready for the truth. Oh, but this time, she was going to answer, and Gourry could just deal with the consequences.

“Ryan was my fiancé.” Four simple words, but saying them made her feel like someone had shoved a hooked knife through her navel and was slowly pulling her guts out.

Gourry's reaction surprised her yet again. He nodded slightly in a vaguely distracted way, and then he shook his head. “I know that already,” he said slowly.

“You . . . you knew?” Lina asked in shock. “Then why'd you bother asking?” She felt her blood begin to boil. He knew? But he was still going to make her talk about it? Why? And underneath that, she felt . . . humiliated. Ryan had told him, obviously. Who else? Just how had he described his rejection of the annoying flat-chested under-developed runt of the village?

“Lina.” He took a deep breath and stretched his hand out towards her, but she just batted it away. His eyes hardened. “Just what is going on?” he demanded. “Look at you. You're a total mess.”

“Nothing's going on.” Lina said flatly, glaring at Gourry. Just what was he suggesting?

Gourry glared right back. “Don't give me that. You haven't been acting yourself ever since we ran into him.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Never mind the fact that she had come to that conclusion herself a couple of days ago. Hearing it coming from Gourry, like an accusation, was totally different.

“It means that you haven't been acting like yourself,” Gourry repeated, with a slight edge to his voice.

“What would you know about it?” Lina demanded vehemently as she clenched her hands into fists and resisted the sudden urge to slap him. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. And failed miserably. She vaulted to her feet and started pacing back and forth in the tiny little hut, feeling for all the world like a caged animal.

“I don't know!” Gourry grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. “You tell me.”

Lina tried to wrench her arm away, but even though Gourry's grip was rather loose, she had no success. “Let. Go.” Lina spit out through clenched teeth.

“No,” Gourry said flatly, as his fingers clenched spasmodically into her arm. “Why won't you talk to me,” he asked, almost desperately, but Lina was too furious to really notice.

“Maybe because you're being a bastard,” Lina shot back.

“You watch the woman you love work herself into a frenzy over the former lover she dumped, while he sniffs after her like she's a bitch in heat and see how you act,” Gourry bit out.

Lina felt the blood drain out of her face, and she heard a roaring sound in her ears. “What did you just call me?” She asked in a deadly quiet voice. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and the steady beat of rain on the roof intensified. “Let me go this second or you won't live to regret it.”

“I'm not letting go,” Gourry answered stubbornly, although his grip on her arm did ease up a bit.

Lina stared at Gourry incredulously, and she suddenly felt unsure, even a little afraid. Not so much of Gourry, but very much about where they were heading. Had he ever stood up to her like this? Not that she remembered, but then again, she had no clear recollection of ever threatening him, either. And it had been a threat. Why was she threatening Gourry? Because he called her a bitch?

A wave of ice crashed over her as she realized what Gourry had actually said: that she had dumped Ryan. She shook her head in confusion. No, must have heard wrong. Or Gourry had his facts muddled. That was the most likely explanation. Stupid Jellyfish was never paying attention.

“Lina?” Gourry's voice was very gentle, in marked contrast to his tone just a moment ago. She looked up at him. He was still angry: she could see it in his eyes. But underneath the anger was sadness . . . and fear. Fear of her? No, she realized almost immediately. It was fear for her. She closed her own eyes, wondering what he saw in hers.

“Talk to me.” He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly. “Please.”

“Can't you just let it go?” Lina whispered. “It's done. Gone. Over.”

“It's not that . . . I don't know.” Gourry shook his head. “I just don't get it. Look at you!” He gestured with his free hand. “You're as white as a sheet, squirming this way and that. Why?” He spoke softly, but intently. “What's gotten into you? I've never seen you act this way before. I've never seen you hesitate like this! I just want . . . I just want you to talk to me!”

“I don't want to talk about it!” Lina felt the flames licking at the edge of her mind, and she clamped both hands to her head, desperately trying to force them back. “No,” she moaned, begging. “No, please. Don't . . .”

“Lina?” Gourry pulled at her hands, with a note of panic in his voice, but Lina could hear nothing over the roar behind her ears.

“It burns!” She screamed out, as the flames engulfed her. A kaleidoscope of disconnected images raced before her eyes, all overlaid with a bright orange-red. She could feel the heat around her, inside, outside. Ryan smiling at her over his shoulder. A feeling of guilt, of unworthiness. A barn turning into an inferno. Shhh. Sis putting a dagger into her hand and lecturing her about control. Purification in a tub of freezing water. Pain. Intense pressure squeezed from all sides. It wanted out. Now!

A crash. An explosion. Yes, YES!

A harsh voice cried out, a sharp crack, and pain blossomed in her cheeks.

“Lina! Stop!” Lina became dimly aware that Gourry was calling her. He was slapping her.

She shook her head, and awareness came flooding back. The small shack they were in was engulfed in flames. She could smell the sickening aroma of singed hair, and she realized that she was on fire. Gourry was on fire. With a gasp, she reached for the magic, “Mosu Varimu!”

Almost instantly, the flames disappeared, leaving the two of them in complete darkness. The rain continued to beat on the roof, and the smell of smoke was over powering. Lina collapsed to the floor, where the air was marginally clearer. She gasped for breath, feeling as though she had just run for miles, and tried to figure out what had just happened.

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

All anger was forgotten. Gourry was terrified. He listened to Lina gasping for breath, smelled the acrid smoke, felt the slight pain of burned flesh. And thanked the gods that they were still alive. One minute, Lina had been pleading with him, the next moment, she screamed and burst into flames. He wished he could forget the way she had looked. First, she clenched her head between her hands, whimpering uncontrollably. Then her eyes had rolled back in her head, so all he could see were the whites, gleaming in the firelight as she screamed something about being burned. An instant later, flames started rolling off her body, jetting out in all directions and turning the woodcutter's shack into an inferno. Her initial shrieks had modulated into low groans, and she sounded like a woman in the throes of childbirth. And then, as the flames bathed her body, she started moaning in a sultry way. Had they been making love, it would have been incredibly gratifying. The fact that it was the fire caressing her, well it made them obscene.

He had slapped her then. Mostly to make her aware of what she was doing, but also because he could not bear to hear her moans. Her eyes had flown open, and the flames caressing her body died down immediately, but she had already set the wooden walls of the shack on fire, and it was burning uncontrollably. As soon as her awareness returned, though, she put out the fire almost as a reflex, and then collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.

“What happened,” she asked dully, after she got her breath back.

“I'm not sure,” he hedged, kneeling down next to her. He could make out the shadow of her outline now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark.

She sighed a bit and leaned unerringly into him. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat and gently enfolded her in his arms, stroking her hair.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered into his chest.

“No, I'm the one who's sorry,” he replied softly.

“Mmm. That feels nice.” She sighed again, and her breathing eased into a steady pattern. He was almost convinced that she was asleep, and then she spoke again. “There's really nothing between me and Ryan,” she said softly as she twined her fingers in his shirt. “He broke it off so long ago . . .” She trailed off, and when her breathing slowed, he was certain she was asleep.

As for himself, he was afraid to go to sleep. The image of Lina bursting into flames replayed itself over and over again in his mind. With a small sigh, he arranged Lina and covered her with a blanket. She had put out the fire before it could do too much damage. Some of their gear was singed, but most of it had been too wet to burn badly. He considered starting another fire, but decided against it. All things considered, the idea of a fire just did not seem too terribly comforting at the moment. Instead, he lay down on a blanket near to Lina. She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled up to him.

Gourry pillowed his head with a crooked arm and stared unseeing at the ceiling above. The rain had tapered off, and it was no louder than a gentle soothing patter, but it did little to calm the chaos of his thoughts.

First and foremost, it was clear that something had happened to Lina. Something that she was terrified to remember. Something associated with Ryan or his brother, or maybe both. What had she said right before falling asleep? That Ryan had broken off their engagement? He must have heard her wrong. Not that it would be the first time . . . he thought he had heard her right, but . . .

Before a few days ago—had it only been a few days?—if someone had told him that Lina was capable of panic, he would have thought they had a screw loose. Had he ever even seen her upset? Angry, certainly. Indignant, furious, and prone to violence. But crying? No, not that he could remember. Now, she had panicked . . . what was it? Twice? In as many days? Something like that. Why now? He closed his eyes, and tried to shake the image of flames rolling over Lina's body, caressing her and burning him.

Why had he asked Lina about Ryan, in the first place? It was stupid. Or maybe he was stupid. He was sure Lina would think so. They had been together all this time, and it had never been an issue. Honestly, Gourry could care less that Lina had been Ryan's fiancée. Like she said, that was in the past. She was still with him, even after running into Ryan. It was really weird seeing her act so awkward and wistful whenever she was around Ryan. But it was kind of neat, too. It was a different side of Lina—strange, but still her. And whatever was between her and Ryan, she never gave any indication that she regretted the way things had turned out. She had left Ryan behind easily enough, without even saying goodbye, in fact. When he suggested that she let Ryan know they were leaving, she had given him the most peculiar look, like she was genuinely surprised.

And yet, despite all that, it did matter. Not Ryan so much, or even whatever it was that she was so afraid of. It was the results. Over the past few days, he had found it harder and harder to read Lina. She had withdrawn away from him, and to be perfectly honest, he had withdrawn a bit as well. He should have recognized that she was on the verge of some breaking point. He had seen it easily enough a few days ago, when Ryan pushed her about his brother. But not today. Today, he had been all but oblivious to it. Neither of them was thinking straight, and that was dangerous. In more ways than one. It was more than a stupid fight. If he had trouble reading Lina, what would happen when they faced battle again? They were heading back to Deremar's, and judging from the last time they were there, he doubted they would face a warm welcome. Distractions under those circumstances could have fatal consequences. He shuddered as a sudden sense of foreboding rushed through him.

“Hmmm?” Lina mumbled, picking up her head. “`S wrong?”

“Nothing,” he murmured, putting his arm around her and tugging her back down.

“Mmm.” She pillowed her head on his shoulder and dropped back into sleep.

Gourry wrinkled his nose a bit at the strong odor of singed hair. One thing was certain. Singed hair or no, as long as Lina was by his side, things would work out. Somehow. Eventually. They had to. Right?

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

Something smelled awful. Honestly, she had paid good money for this room. The least they could do is freshen it out. Lina opened her eyes, squinting a bit against the sun, and she realized two things: she had not, in fact, paid good money for this room at all, and she was the one who reeked. She sat up, gently disentangling herself from Gourry. It was rare that she woke up before he did. She smoothed his hair gently away from his face, and suppressed a hiss. His face and arms were all a bright red. It looked like a nasty sunburn. Well, he had been between her and the fire last night. She smiled, albeit a bit sadly, as she cast a healing spell. After she was done, his brow smoothed, and his breathing settled into a steadier pattern. He had obviously been asleep for quite some while.

Lina, on the other hand, was wide-awake. She glanced around the room, noticing the scorch marks. How their fire had gone out of control was beyond her . . . and oddly enough, she was not too terribly interested. At least Gourry had been paying attention, and there was no permanent harm done. No sense in worrying about it, really.

What was more important was getting ready for the day. Considering all the times Gourry had taken care of their breakfast, it only seemed fair that she pull her weight. At least occasionally. The first order of business was to find water. And maybe she could take a bath while she was at it, too. She briefly considered getting dressed, but decided against it. They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and they had yet to see another living soul since setting out. Lina decided to chance it. Her chemise satisfied the basic demands of modesty, at least technically, she supposed.

It was a gorgeous morning. The clouds of the previous day were swept away, and the sky was a perfectly washed clear blue. Water droplets from the heavy rains clung to everything, from the leaves of the trees above to the grass below, and the sunlight danced about, here reflecting off a bead of water to make it sparkle like a diamond, there refracting into a brilliant rainbow. Lina reveled in the crisp morning air and the feel of damp mud squelching beneath her bare feet.

Now, if only she could find a small pool, everything would be perfect. A nice quiet place where she could enjoy a nice hot soak. Maybe with a waterfall. Lina let her imagination run wild as she meandered along a small game path. Eventually, it should lead to water. Finding her idyllic little glen would just be a bonus, unlikely as it was.

She heard them long before she saw them. People were talking, not terribly far away. Lina stopped, listening intently, but their words were indistinct, and she only caught random snatches of the conversation. They seemed to have no worries about anyone overhearing them, that much was certain. But what were they doing in the middle of nowhere? The logical answer was that it was the woodcutter, or whoever used the tiny hut she and Gourry had borrowed the night before. Her natural curiosity took over, and Lina crept up to see what was going on. She wished that she had taken the time to bother dressing, but there was little she could do about it at this point.

The path led straight to a small clearing, and the water she sought, in the form of a nice little pond fed by a small spring. What caught her attention were the two people talking in the clearing. One of them had his back to her, but judging from the familiar-looking beige cloak and the up-raised hood, it was Zelgadis. She was a bit surprised to see him, but not by much, because she had caught a few glimpses of him back in town. But the person he was talking to . . . it was impossible . . . Lina quickly rubbed at her eyes, but when she looked again, she still saw a familiar willowy blonde. Why on earth was Zelgadis talking with a dead woman . . . who was quite obviously not dead? There she was. The Lady Lucilla. Niece and lover of Deremar, who had supposedly been killed by her and Gourry. Lina shook her head.

What the hell? Lina's jaw dropped as she watched Zelgadis embrace Lucilla-and not just that, he kissed her, too. But . . . Lina shook her head again. She had to be seeing things . . . she thought—she could have sworn—Zel was sweet on Amelia. He denied it, of course, but he had taken Amelia's bracelet . . . how could he even consider kissing another woman? It was no chaste simple brotherly kiss, either, judging from the way Lucilla was pressing herself up against him. The slut!

The couple broke their ardent embrace and exchanged a few words, something about sticking to the plan this time—what plan?—and that they would see each other again soon. Lina paid little attention to their conversation because she was furiously arguing with herself. What she wanted to do was march right up to Zelgadis and beat some sense into him. How dare he do something like this to Amelia? But, she also wanted to know what the deal was with Lucilla. The girl was supposed to be dead. In the end, she did neither, for the simple stupid reason that she was not properly dressed. She knew it was idiotic, but for the life of her, she could not force herself to confront either of them dressed in a scanty—and practically see-through—chemise. Instead, she carefully noted the direction they took when they left. Lucilla headed towards Deremar's keep—no surprise there—and Zel set out for the town they had just left. Just what was going on here?

Well, one thing was certain, hunkering down in the bushes was not going to help her figure it out. Lina eyed the small pond. A simple fireball would warm it up nicely, although it would probably be a good idea to wait just a few more minutes. After all, it would be mighty awkward if Zel and Lucilla rushed in on her in the middle of her bath . . . Then Lina reconsidered. Although the idea of confronting them in her chemise was less than appealing, if they interrupted her bath, she would have no compunctions about fireballing them into insensibility, and then she could torture . . . uh . . . make that question them to find out what was going on.

Unfortunately, her explosive method of heating her bathwater failed to bring anyone. Lina sniffed to herself as she wrapped a towel more tightly around her torso and eased into the nice hot water. Cowards.

Still, she decided to keep her guard up. Who knows, maybe they were just being slow.

Lina was on the verge of giving up—after all, it was really hard to enjoy her bath when she was so on edge—when she heard just the slightest rustling sound at the edge of the clearing. So. Someone was trying to sneak up on her, huh? Well they were in for a surprise. She hoped it was Zel. He was going to get an earful from her, that much was certain. After she finished blowing him up, that is. She turned so that she was facing away from the clearing. There was a decided advantage to surprise, after all, and if it looked like she was concentrating on her bath instead of her surroundings, it might lull her foe into a false sense of security. Maybe not Zel . . . but it never hurt to try. Just a few moments more, and Lina would finally get some answers.

All plans went out the window, though, when she heard a familiar voice, startlingly close to her, say, “I wouldn't, if I were you.”