Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ Beyond the Moon ❯ Blood and Desperation ( Chapter 9 )

I realize now I didn't accomplish much in this chapter, but... oh well. It took me forever to write, with all these tests and whatnot coming up, plus a lack of encouraging reviews.. *sigh* Oh well, no matter; a story is written for the story, and no one else. ^_^ I won't deny I like seeing your heartening reviews, but one must do what one has to, ne? Also, a note: Not to confuse readers, but Denongo and Dengo are the same person, just the latter is a shorter version of the former. :)

Beyond the Moon

Nine

Dilandau growled. He was being herded around by a broken, bleeding man -- his enemy, no less -- at sword point looking for some bitch of a woman. As they shuffled through the forest awkwardly, the albino's thoughts drifted back to Celena. He felt an uncomfortable amount of guilt at having abandoned her, but tried to cover it with his reasoning of, She's better off without me. Even after she had begged and pleaded that he not leave her, he had. He wondered if she felt as alone as he did.

Dilandau paused for a moment, lost in thought. It took a poke from the sword at his throat to make him concentrate on the task at hand; trekking and bushwhacking through the pitch black forest. He could hear the cries of animals in the distance, and the high-pitched wail of some creature being slaughtered made his skin break out in gooseflesh.

"Keep walking," Van commanded, his voice breaking slightly. Dilandau knew that if he could just hold up a little longer, he could get away from the obviously weakened king. Van hadn't even pulled the large wooden splinter out of his arm, and the blood had caked around it. The arm hung limply at his side, and every once in a while a purple-hued finger would twitch. Dilandau shuddered.

They continued on, walking through the forest in silence. The twin moons of Gaea were hidden behind a canopy of enormous trees, pine and oak alike. Dilandau trudged along in front of Van, feeling the searing cold of the metal on the back of his neck. His crudely cut silver hair hung in front of his eyes, causing him to trip over the occasional shrub or bush.

It was the first time in his life Dilandau ever felt lonely. He had become accustomed to the small, almost conscience-like voice that hid in the back of his mind; the little light that had always brightened even the darkest of places. His lip curled up slightly at the thought. Celena, even before he recognized her existence, had kept him sane. Sadly, it was her womanly vanity that had broken the horse's back, tugged on the last string of his sanity. Dilandau unconsciously rubbed his scar, running one finger along his cheek.

Trying to free his mind from the emptiness, the ex-general focused his thoughts on the task at hand. Van was obviously crazy; Dilandau had not taken his precious Hitomi, and the whole late-night ordeal was tugging on the albino's eyelids. His knee buckled slightly, but the sword point pressing into the skin of his neck brought him back to his feet. His skin was alive with the cold, the hair rising on his neck and arms into painful goosebumps. He silenced his chattering jaw, and was silently thankful he wore the huge, black and red general's jacket.

Van stumbled again, barely managing to keep his sword arm straight. His limp arm convulsed again. The only thing that kept the king walking was one thought, one word: Hitomi. The horses by the side of the road and the conspicuous appearance of Dilandau had led Van to one conclusion after another, and still he found no answer. Unaware to the silver-haired man at the mercy of his sword, the king had been following a pair of very light footprints in the scattered pine-needles of the forest floor. He had lost them some time ago, but continued in hopes of finding something, anything, that would lead him to Hitomi.

Van cringed as his injured arm brushed a needle-covered tree carelessly. He longed to reach over and rip the large splinter from his bicep, where an enormous scab had begun to form around it. He could practically feel the infection raiding his body, if the numbness of his dangerously bluish fingers was any indication.

The king had begun to feel the effects of enormous blood loss. The trail of red had ended some time ago, but a light flow could still be seen down the inside of his arm, creating a disgusting friction against the torn shards of the royal coat he wore. Blood clotted on the bottom of the sleeve, distorting the once handsome scarlet of his cuffs. Van barely had the strength to frown in disgust as he slightly squeezed his fingers, feeling the clots between the folds of his skin.

Suddenly overcome by a wave of nausea, Van lost his footing on an uprooted tree root. He collapsed to the ground, the sword he had been using to hold Dilandau in check sliding away down the needle-covered slope. He struggled to reach for it, but his body had suddenly become immobile. He could hear the sound of feet shuffling about his head, but the reverberation rushing in his ears began to block out everything around him. Feeling the blood rising to his head, Van's arm began to convulse and he promptly passed out.

***

Spurring his horse on, Allen crouched lower on the sweating beasts' back. He could see the footprints of his prize mare, a deep crimson sorrel. The very horse Dilandau had stole out of his stables. With renewed fury, the knight buried his heels in the gray stallion's sides and tightened his grip on the reins. He was going to get revenge on Dilandau -- now that the ex-general was free of Celena -- once and for all. Feeling the sword at his side with his elbow, Allen donned an almost sadistic grin. It was swiftly replaced with concern when he remembered Jajuka's words: Celena.. Celena released Dilandau! They separated, and he took off with one of the horses! He's headed in the same direction as Van and Hitomi; if they aren't in Palas by now, he'll be caught up to them in no time!

Hitomi was in trouble. Despite the knight's promise to Van concerning the brown-haired woman, Allen had deep feelings for her and would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. Whether those feelings bordered on love was not for him to decide.

Allen had briefly stopped in to see Celena before he left, and the image of she collapsed at the window, slowly rocking herself to sleep had worked towards pushing him over the edge. He knew now that he had been right all along about Dilandau; the ex-general had just used Celena's innocent mind to release himself. Allen cringed and leaned forward, clicking to his horse and spurring his massive sides.

The knight almost toppled off his mount as the stallion reared, jumping back in surprise. Through the dark, Allen could see the bodies of two large horses lying in the middle of the road. At first thinking they were dead, their steadily breathing sides and the man lodged between them told him they were merely asleep. Asleep? he wondered. Why would horses be sleeping in the middle of the road? Puzzled, the knight climbed off his mount and slowly led the startled animal towards the three snoozing creatures.

After taking a closer look, Allen gasped slightly when he recognized the man nestled between the two horses' backs; he was the coachman of Van and Hitomi's carriage, if his attire and colors were any indication. Allen kneeled down, poking at the sleeping horses, when he saw a large object from the corner of his eye. The knight looked into a dark ditch on the side of the road, peering closer at the faint outline he could make out. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the light, he jumped back in surprise. Lying on its side, a good portion of the underside broken and splintered, lay a carriage. There had obviously been some sort of struggle; the walls were slashed in odd places, and bits of a scarlet fabric could be seen caught on various splinters in the wood. Dried blood was dripped all across the surface, and Allen shuddered and backed up onto the road.

A loud crash in the bushes brought him out of his reverie. Putting one hand on his sword, Allen jumped to attention, staring at the rustling trees. A black mass appeared behind it, pushing and pulling its way through the heavy underbrush. A head of silvery hair appeared, the moonlight reflecting off its shaggy mass. It belonged to a tired-looking, hunched over man, wearing an immense black and red coat. He dragged something along behind him, and when his red eyes rose, Allen drew his sword.

***

Van smiled at me. His chocolate eyes softened, and the royal medals on his colorful jacket reflected the sun. I could see the faint outline of his long, white wings behind him, the feathers floating about him like drops of silver. The regal figure was bathed in a surreal light, and he reached out one gloved hand to me.

"Hitomi, come with me," he asked softly, his black hair blowing lightly in an invisible breeze. I smiled back and began walking to him. Suddenly, Van's eyes clouded over and narrowed, his body becoming aggressive and his expression domineering. "Hitomi!" he called angrily, shaking his hand at me. I took a step back, when I suddenly felt my foot slipping from beneath me. Looking down, I realized too late I had landed in a puddle of tar, which was slowly pulling in my foot.

"Hitomi!" Van insisted again, his royal uniform changing and molding into long, sharp scales, running down his body. His face became dark and sinister, and his beautiful wings began to change color. They crackled loudly, and became huge and leathery, sprouting claws in every direction. They flapped menacingly, showering me with a foul-smelling wind. His outstretched fingers changed into long, scaly claws, clenching at me. I stepped back again, my other foot grabbed by the popping, sizzling tar below me.

I felt myself being sucked deeper into the pit, the scratchy, boiling blackness clinging to my legs and feet, absorbing me. Suddenly, Van lunged for me, grabbing my hand in his claws. I seemed unable to scream, unable to speak.

The dragon he had become tried to pull on me, yanking on my arm. His eyes suddenly became wide and pleading, and his wings beat frantically. "Hitomi!" he cried, wrapping his huge, scaly arms around me. I inhaled deeply, trying to keep the foul smell out of my nose. My arms seemed unable to move, and I could no longer feel my legs.

"The dragon and the girl from the Mystic Moon again throw the world into chaos... We must keep them apart at all costs." I looked around for the source of the voice, but found only Van. He clutched me, allowing himself to be pulled into the pool of tar. I tried to cry out, tried to force him away to safety, but to no avail.

And suddenly, my eyes shot open. I tried to stop my voice, which was now vibrating with a scream. I snapped my mouth closed, my vision slowly returning to me.

"Calm down!" came the familiar voice. My memory defined it as belonging to a doppelganger; my suspicions were affirmed when I saw it, one hand patting my forehead. I tried to scream again, but I discovered a familiar gag had been stuffed into my mouth. I guess that's what I deserved for yelling my head off in my sleep. I slowly dropped my head back to the cold ground, sighing. The doppelganger gave me a strange expression; its lips tilted up slightly at each side, and its large, green eyes softened at me. I recognized it as a smile, something I would never have expected from such a race. What had it said?

"We live for the fight, this much is true," it had said. "Zongi was a rebel. Zaibach too, was our enemy." I stared at the doppelganger, who appeared to have very feminine features, which led me to the conclusion of why she was so soft. Her voice was very calm and quiet, but had a sort of bell-like ring to it. Her fingers brushed my forehead with cool water, slowly bringing my mind back into the real world.

"You did not sleep long," she said, withdrawing her hand and applying her long fingers with more cool water from a small wooden bowl next to her. I noticed a small rise in the light, coming from a small candle on the far side of the cave. I heard my stomach rumble, and I began to tug at the gag in my mouth, which had begun to develop a foul taste. She slowly removed it, and I cleared my dry throat.

"Water?" the doppelganger asked, offering me the small bowl of water. I nodded slowly, my vocal chords rebelling against me. She lifted it to my lips, letting a few sips dribble into my mouth. I lapped them up gratefully, and swallowed a few times to get my throat working again.

"Who are you? What am I doing here?" I asked, sitting up slightly. My legs were still bound, but my hands were free to rub my sore head. She smiled at me, standing up so she rose high above me.

"So many questions. I can answer your first one, though; I am Nago," she informed me, her voice tinged with amusement. Still unsure, I nodded. At the sight of the creature, I instantly remembered Zongi. His huge, green eyes, his sickly-looking body, his disheveled black hair and sickening grin as he absorbed the life out of the medium Plaktu. I shuddered and slowly raised my gaze to Nago's. Her eyes were soft and her face shapely, and her hair fell in bluish locks around her face. Some of it was tied back with a leather-like object, and she wore nothing beside a small loincloth; more than Zongi had donned. I grimaced.

My thoughts were interrupted when another tall, whitish being entered the circle of candlelight. He was obscenely tall, his lean figure towering over both Nago and me in the small cave. His blood-colored streaks were large and elegant, and his black hair was held in high, crowning ties and ponytails. His eyes were decorated with thick, black makeup, and he wore more than decent clothing. He wore a long, embroidered loincloth, and more tribal-looking objects were strewn around his neck and arms. The doppelganger had an almost regal look about him; even long, golden earrings hung from his pointed ears.

"Nago, we move at the break of day. There seems to be no sign of the dragon, and I erased our tracks a mile or so back. We should be fine until then," the tall creature instructed, and I noticed that his chest was heaving with obvious exertion. The dragon? Someone had used that term before in reference.. in reference to Van!

"The dragon?" I asked meekly. The tall man blinked, then peered past Nago at me. His face remained with a stoic expression, but his eyes seemed considerably softer. He was insanely intimidating; at his gaze, I wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. He must have seen the shadow of fear over my eyes, because he backed away and looked to the other doppelganger kneeling beside me. Nago smiled at him.

"Dengo, may I speak to you later outside? Leave us for a moment. I still have yet to explain our position," she said in a soft voice. The taller creature's lips curled in a slight smile at her, and he disappeared once more into the shadows. Nago looked at me. "Don't mind him; that's Denongo. He is responsible for you now," she assured me, though the words had no real meaning.

"Responsible for me?" I inquired, sitting up a bit further so I didn't have to use my arms as support beams. Nago nodded.

"Dengo is a good man. He seems brash, but he is only here because of you," she replied cryptically. I blinked, then hardened my expression. I wanted answers, not names.

"I don't even understand why I'm here! Where is Van?" I cried, my back giving way from my outburst. I flopped back to the ground, and Nago looked at me in surprise. Her arm must have hit the bowl beside her, for it was spinning on one edge and water was strewn across the cave floor.

The doppelganger's once soft, lenient expression changed. "You will come to appreciate what my Denongo is doing for you," she hissed, coming closer. I backed up, but my legs were restrained by large ropes. "You are being hunted, young mistress from the Mystic Moon. It is only we that keep you safe!" Nago sat back, her eyes becoming soft, grass-green orbs once again. I shivered slightly, and she patted my head.

"Don't worry. Dengo will protect you, for now. We will move out presently," she informed me, leaning back against the cave wall and righting the toppled wooden bowl. I nodded silently, still a bit surprised from her outburst. "The dragon you speak of, Van; we had to separate you from him. Old quandaries return for revenge," she added, getting up. Without another word, she left into the darkness.

I sighed, lying back to the ground to contemplate her cryptic words. I curled up, shivering a bit in the cold, longing for Van's comforting arms around me as I drifted off to sleep once more, hoping against hope to avoid the dreams that would surely plague me.

***

Dilandau growled, feeling his arm pop as he continued dragging his load through the forest. Through some unreasonable bout of fate, Celena had left too much of an imprint on him. He was becoming soft.

When Van collapsed, Dilandau hadn't been too surprised. At first, he had grabbed his sword and turned to run, but something stopped him. The king had lain on the ground, face buried in the dirt, the enormous splinter lodging itself farther into his arm. His fingers had twitched even in his unconsciousness, and blood dripped with an irritating pitter-patter onto the pine needles.

Despite what he had once considered common sense, Dilandau had tilted Van's head forward and, grabbing the back of his collar, had begun dragging him back the way they had come. It hadn't been hard to find their prints; they were clearly visible even in the waning moonlight, as if a stampede of oxen had passed through.

Dilandau pushed his way through the trees, his dimming mind becoming foggy from sleep deprivation. The moon's light was rapidly fading, and he had no sense of time. Whether he had been traveling for hours or minutes, he didn't know.

An immense sense of relief came over Dilandau as he pushed through some especially dense trees and looked up, seeing the road at last. What he had least expected was to see Allen, sword drawn, hovering over the undeniably suspicious-looking carriage. His heart skipped a beat as the knight lunged, eyes clouded over, blade glistening silver in the dull moonlight.