Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ For Want of a Nail ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter 7

"Maybe it's just some coincidence," John finally said.

"Possibly, but it's too much of one. You look like you're somewhere in your twenties and so would this Prince Folken be if he were still alive. They never did find his body and frankly I think it's too much of a coincidence for two male albinos that look alike to be born around the same time."

"But a lost prince! Wouldn't me being born around the same time be more likely than for a prince to have survived all these years to have survived from the rite of dragon slaying and somehow end up here?" he said with an incredulous tone.

"But it would explain your arm. Maybe it was bitten off and someone saved you before you were finished off."

"Then if I am this prince, why am I here instead of being back in Fanelia?" he said, thinking he had her cornered.

"Perhaps you felt indebted to whoever saved you and got you that arm. Or, maybe you felt ashamed for failing the dragon slaying rite."

"Stop saying it's me. There are too many unanswered questions. I feel exhausted with everything that has happened and it's not even noon," he said while rubbing his temple with one hand then switching to rub around the artificial arm since the phantom pain was starting to act up.

"Here, let me," Sarah offered as she got out of her chair to stand behind John. He was about to protest, but didn't when her professional hands did their work.

John let out a content sigh and leaned back in his chair. His phantom pain was gone and the headache that had started forming had begun to dissipate as he let his body relax.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes. Thank you," he replied, twisting his neck to look at her.

"We should show my mother this book. Maybe we could go to Fanelia to see if anyone recognizes you."

"I still don't think it's me."

"You're in denial, besides you have amnesia," she pressed.

"Okay, okay, you have a point there. Let's go see your mother again."

They returned the economic history and Fanelian history books to their place on the bookshelf. Sarah turned off the lamp and they left the study with the Fanelian royalty's genealogy book in John's hands.

"Yes, there is a remarkable resemblance, isn't there?"

John, Sarah, and Berin were back in her office after John and Sarah waited for her to set a boy's broken arm.

They summarized what they had read and had shown the doctor the picture.

"If you want to go to Fanelia, you're going to have to wait until spring time since it's a long ways from here to there. We use horses for transportation in the country. Also it's dangerous for any Zaibach citizens to travel outside our country at this time with the war still fresh on everyone's minds. But it may not be as bad since this part of Zaibach really didn't do much in the war."

"I see. But that should give me plenty of time to get my strength back and perhaps hold a job to get supplies," John said thoughtfully.

"Well, you two just run along now and I'll keep the book here just in case I need it sometime," Berin said.

The two young adults nodded and left.

"Do you still feel awake?" inquired Sarah to John.

"Very awake."

"Want to go for a walk?"

At his nod she led him to the door and they stepped outside. Then she smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand.

"What's wrong?" John asked, curious as to the cause of her strange behavior.

"I just realized I never got your boots out for you!"

They looked down at his bare feet.

"I wonder why I never noticed," John said.

They went back inside and to his room where Sarah reached under John's bed and pulled out military issue black leather boots.

"Man. You know you have big feet, right?" Sarah said with and amused smile.

"Well, I haven't really had a chance to compare with anyone since so far I only met three women and two children…"

"I was just teasing! I wish you'd loosen up a little… Hey! Do I see you smiling? No! Don't try to hide it! I saw it! I wish you'd smile more often. It definitely suits you."

Since his back was to the window, Sarah wasn't sure if she saw his face darken or if it was just the shadows.

John sat down on his bed and pulled his boots on. They felt a bit tight, probably since his feet haven't been in boots for a month and had spread out a bit.

The two went back outside. It was a warm day and an occasional chirp could be heard in the distance. A few stray leaves lay on the ground, again reminding Sarah that fall was coming. They walked around the house and were now facing the stables.

"Would you mind seeing the horses?" Sarah asked. She hoped he would come along.

"I don't mind."

Sarah smiled brightly and led him to the stalls.

"These four are our horses. The black one is mine. His name is Hessen."

At the sound of Sarah's voice Hessen had popped his head into view from sifting through his bedding for any hay he may have missed. He was looking at them, ears forward to catch the sound of them walking up to him.

"Hi Hessey! How are you?"

She lifted her hand to his nose. He nuzzled it, searching for a treat, but then withdrew when he found none.

"Always thinking about food! You silly horse. I guess it's about time I gave you guys your breakfast."

His ears perked up and he bobbed his head. It wasn't the first time he had done that, but it made Sarah wonder if he knew exactly what she said.

"John? Would you mind helping me feed the horses? There's only eleven of them."

"No, I wouldn't mind at all."

"Great! Follow me."

She went to the storage room in between the aisles and opened the door. Inside there were bales of hay, bags of grains, can of unidentifiable liquids and various other food related things all stacked almost to the ceiling. Sarah pulled out a knife that was between the wall and a support beam and slid across the taught cords on one of the bales of hay. The cords snapped back and the bale seemed to expand a little. She grabbed half the bale and before John could offer his assistance slid it onto a waiting cart. She took a breath.

"Ouch. I hate doing that part. The hay scratches up your skin and I worry about splinters. Fortunately horses have tough mouths to eat that stuff."

She looked down at her arms where they were slightly reddened from the abrasive hay.

"Okay. Can you please give each horse three flakes of hay while I shovel out the grains?"

"Uh…what's a flake?" John asked, slightly embarrassed though he had no need to be.

"See this?" Sarah brought him to the half bale on the cart. "See how they look like a stack of paper?" She pulled at the end and it came off in an almost perfect square sheet. "They fall apart like slices, each about an inch thick. Pull three pieces off for each horse."

"Okay, thanks."

John pulled the cart behind him and did as he was told. Sarah watched him for the first horse and nodded when he looked back to see if he did it right. She went back to the bag of grain. She hefted a bag onto her shoulder then dropped it onto another cart. She stabbed it with the knife and tore through the end of the sack with it and poured out the contents. She tossed the sack into a corner full of empty sacks and grabbed a shovel.

She gave each horse a shovel full of the dark brown grain then checked their water buckets. Nine of them needed a refill. John was about to pull open a stall door so he could help refilling the buckets when Sarah shouted, "Wait!"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her.

"Some of these horses are temperamental so you better just let me handle it. I know their quirks. Besides, I don't want you to get knocked into another coma."

He nodded his understanding and sat on a bench against the wall of the storage rooms while Sarah filled up the buckets at the stock tank. When she was done she rubbed her hands on her skirt on her thighs and looked at John again.

"All done. Do you want to go back to walking?" she asked.

"Yes. Let's go walking again," he replied.

They walked in companionable silence until they reached the edge of a forest that was on the immense property. Green light filtered through the canopy and cool shade was provided.

A vision of a smiling young boy tugged at his arm in a memory. John identified him as Prince Van. He blinked and saw only Sarah tugging on his arm to sit at the trunk of an enormous tree. He complied and leaned against the somewhat smooth bark that testified to years of providing a shaded seat to others. The two sat in silence, shoulder to arm, gazing through the leaves and branches at the clear blue sky with the occasional bird that flitted by.

After a while he realized that Sarah was leaning against his arm. He looked down at her and saw that she had fallen asleep.

'So much for not being able to fall back asleep,' John thought in amusement.

He carefully slid his arm around her and moved her a little so that her head rested comfortably on his chest. He sat with both of his arms around her and grew drowsy from the peaceful silence. His eyes closed and he snapped them open, trying to fight off sleep. He soon gave in thinking, 'Just a few minutes.'

John was roused awake by Sarah's movements. She apparently had slid out of his hold as she now had her upper body sprawled over his lap. John straightened up and realized how sore his back was from slouching over while he slept. He looked up at the sky and noted that the sun was up higher in the sky, coming closer to noon.

John looked down when he felt Sarah shifting.

Sarah was waking and realized she was on something warm. It was firm and smelled nice, but she felt a bit stiff. She sat up and stretched then yawned. Then finally opened her eyes only to be looking directly into deep, red eyes.

She leaped away a foot and fell back in surprise.

"Sarah? Are you alright?"

"Huh? John? I forgot that I was out here. You surprised me!"

John gave out a light chuckle as Sarah collected herself. He stood up brushed himself off and offered Sarah a hand. She accepted it and was pulled up onto her feet. He reached for her hair and she stood stalk-still. His hand came back to reveal a golden-brown leaf.

"Thanks, I wouldn't want to go back home looking like a wild woman," she said, taking the leaf from John. She examined the leaf for a few seconds then let it float to the ground. "I guess we should head back. It's probably almost lunch time," she continued.

John nodded and offered her his arm and She tentatively accepted it. As she lightly hooked her hand in the crook of his arm he looked down at her and gave a soft smile. Sarah gave him an answering blush and they walked side by side to her home.

The next day after breakfast Sarah brought John to the gym. Two men were sparring with swords to one side, another lifting weights, one stretching and one resting from an early morning workout. This room wasn't especially spacious, so there wasn't a lot of equipment and had only enough room for three sparring matches with just enough space to be confident in not having to worry about bumping into another sparring pair.

John eyed the sparring men appraisingly. He had a feeling that he had seen many before and perhaps even done so himself. It wouldn't be surprising considering the sword Berin showed him was probably his.

Sarah was also watching the sword fight. It was very entertaining to watch a match, observing how graceful and flowing some motions are and yet others so choppy as the sword is blocked then pulled back for another swing. The clanging of metal upon metal in a small space and close proximity was annoying at times, but that could be ignored if the two were skilled.

Finally the match came to an end when the young man with sandy blond, sweat drenched hair that was plastered to his forehead left an opening to his stomach when he raised his sword.

"If this was for real, not only would it have been unspeakably painful, it would also have been the slowest way to die," said the victor. He had black hair that hung loosely about the ears and a close cropped beard. He was clearly older than his sparring partner as his face was dark and weathered.

The young man before him had gone pale, his sword lowered to the ground and looked at his feet in shame.

The elder man had a fatherly smile and patted the boy on his shoulder.

"You did well today. You are recovering nicely. Now go get some water and rest before you pass out, you pushed yourself too much."

The blond looked up and smiled then went to do as he was told.

"Good morning Dravel," said Sarah cheerfully.

The black haired man looked up and smiled, walking towards them, "Good morning Sarah! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?"

Dravel was now standing in front of John and Sarah. Now that he was up close John could observe Dravel much better. He had warm brown eyes and had a commanding presence by way of his posture. In height he probably came up to John's nose and was a bit stocky.

"Dravel, this is John. He recently came out from a coma and has amnesia. John, this is Dravel. Sword master and family friend."

"Nice to meet you," said Dravel with an outstretched hand. John's right hand automatically came out to grasp Dravel's gloved hand before he thought twice and almost froze with realization. Dravel took this all in stride and gave the metal arm a good shake and joked, "Nice grip" to John's loose hold. John recovered himself in time to give Dravel a brief squeeze before they let their arms drop to their sides.

"John's here to start getting some exercise since he's been out for a month," Sarah explained.

"Might you be interested in the sword?" Dravel asked John.

John gave a nod.

"Then go pick up a sword. Your body will show us if you carried one, memory loss or no memory loss."

Dravel pointed to a sword rack on the wall where several unfinished, blunted swords lay, clearly meant only for training. John studied them all as they were of different sizes, but the same generally as they were one-edged straight swords. He finally chose a moderately large one and gripped the leather bound hilt with his left hand. He tested the weight distribution in it and found it to be satisfactory. How he knew this he didn't know. It just felt right.

Dravel watched John study the swords and pick one out. He nodded in approval at his choice as had already mentally chosen that one for John.

John turned to face Dravel with his chosen sword pointed down. Suddenly John saw a flash and his sword automatically came up to block it. A clang was heard. Dravel wanted to test John's reflex so he had attacked swiftly. He gave a grunt of approval before he pulled back to strike once more. John blocked again. His body was facing Dravel sideways to provide less mass as a target. Their movements were almost blurred as their speed picked up. Sarah watched this in fascination.

John was already starting to perspire. A bead of sweat collected and trailed down his temple, jawline, then dripped off his chin. It made him want to wipe the sweat off his face with his arm. His muscles were starting to burn, his throat ravaged by his heavy breathing. One month of his life was accountable and that was while he was comatose and because of that he was not able to work out. He started to feel disoriented. Cold flashed through his head, which left behind a slight headache, and black flashes in his vision and dizziness. He dropped his sword and hunched over holding his head in his hands.

Dravel immediately stopped his attack and Sarah was at John's side in a second.

"John? Are you all right? Why don't you come sit down."

It wasn't as much of a request as it was a command. Sarah and Dravel held John in between them as they guided him to a bench that was against a wall and sat him down. Sarah felt his forehead and discovered that despite the recent sword exercise he was clammy rather than hot. His face was too pale, almost grey.

They had drawn the curiosity of the other occupants of the room by this time but paid them no mind.

John suddenly bolted up and seemed to be looking for something. He zeroed in on a door that was by a corner and clearly would lead outside since there were windows on that wall. He wobbled a bit as he ran to the door and wrenched it open to go outside.

Dravel and Sarah followed in concern and found John with one hand braced against the building and the other resting on his thigh as he heaved his breakfast into the grass. This continued until all that was left were dry retches. That finally ended and he was spitting out any leftover vomit in his mouth. His color seemed to have gotten slightly better, but he was clearly shaky. Sarah pulled out a handkerchief from her pants pocket and wiped John's mouth.

"Dravel? Will you please help me take him to his room?" asked Sarah.

Dravel answered, "Of course."

Each had one of John's arms draped across their shoulders and walked him up to his room.

Once in John's room Sarah let go of him and pulled back the covers on his bed. She then came back and helped Dravel sit John on the edge of his bed where Sarah pulled his drenched short sleeved shirt over his head. She then unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants off.

Dravel didn't say anything as he knew that Sarah was removing John's outer clothing so he would feel a little more comfortable since clothes, especially wet clothes, can feel hard to breathe in when sick.

"What happened to-" a yawn interrupted the sentence then finished with, "Mr. John?"

Sarah and Dravel looked up at the door to find Brittany and Lindsey in the doorway yawning and rubbing their sleepy eyes.

"He's feeling a little sick," answered Sarah, "Did we wake you up?"

The two nodded.

"I'm sorry about that. Why don't you two go back to bed?"

"Is Mr. John going to be alright?" Lindsey whispered.

"I'll be fine," answered John. They all looked at him. "I just over worked myself a bit," he continued and attempted a small smile.

The two girls scrutinized him then ran up to him to give him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Get better," said Brittany for both her and Lindsey and they left to get more sleep.

"How do you feel with all these ladies worrying about you?" joked Dravel.

One side of John's mouth quirked up, but made no comment.

"Well, I need to get back to the gym," Dravel said as he started walking towards the open door then stopped to toss over his shoulder, "By the way, you're a great swordsman and I think you're not even left handed."

With that said he closed the door behind him leaving John and Sarah alone.

Sarah filled a glass with water and handed it to John who thanked her then drank it slowly. Sarah watched silently as he finished drinking then attempted to refill the glass with weak hands. She took the pitcher and glass from him and poured water. She handed John the now refilled glass.

John was trying to wash out any residual sour taste of vomit by drinking water and it was slowly working.

"As healthy as it is drinking a lot of water I had a bad experience doing that when I was sick last time. Maybe you should wait a bit before you drink more," suggested Sarah.

"All right," John said rather than nod since he was afraid of making his head hurt again. He set the glass down on the nightstand then pulled the covers over him as he curled up on his left side.

Sarah smiled slightly at how John somehow made himself look smaller. She picked up the chair and moved it by his head and sat down. Sarah stroked John's hair, enjoying its smoothness while carrying out a comforting function.

John did find it soothing and soon fell asleep from a warm drowsiness rather than weakness caused by heavy physical activity.

A very tall and heavily muscled man stood before him. His scarred face and torso, which were bared, gave testimony to his life as a warrior.

'Who are you?' asked John. He immediately took note of his lighter voice. It was by no means high pitched, just slightly higher than his normal voice. John looked down at himself and noticed he wasn't as muscled as he was last. More of a leanness before full maturity. Another thing he noticed was that both of his hands were organic.

'Folken, you must charge at me as if you mean to kill me.'

John looked up at the towering man in confusion. 'This must be a dream,' he realized, then repeated his question, 'Who are you?'

The large man did not answer, instead he disappeared into the blackness surrounding them and John found himself falling into the eternal darkness.

"Balgus!" screamed John as his eyes snapped open and he sat up.

Sarah had been startled and had almost tipped her chair back when he sprang up in bed.

"What's wrong John? Did you have a nightmare? Who's Balgus?"

John looked up at Sarah who seemed to always have that concerned face around him.

'Of course she would,' he thought, 'I've been doing nothing but make her worry because of my condition.'

"I don't think it can be considered a nightmare and I don't know who Balgus is, unless he was the man in my dream," John answered.

"It must be someone from your past. This is very encouraging. You'll have your memory back in no time," Sarah said brightly.

"Yes, I suppose."

"C'mon, be happy! Don't get all depressed on me," Sarah told him earnestly.

John gave her a slight smile; "I'll try."

"Oh yes, are you feeling any better? You didn't sleep long before you jumped up."

"I don't really feel sick, just tired," he replied with hooded eyes.

"I have a feeling you're going to be sore since you didn't warm up and stretch before the sword fighting. I think you already cooled down, but you might want to try a small exercise right in here then stretch."

"You're the doctor," he joked.

"You do know that I'm not a full fledged doctor, right?"

"No, I didn't. But you might as will be."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a soft smile. She bent down and felt around under his bed and drew out a folded woven rug. She flapped it out flat on the floor by his bed and got up.

"Ten push-ups, twenty sit-ups."

John nodded at her and climbed out of bed and onto the rug. He put his hands shoulder width apart and straightened his body with his toes and pads holding him up as well.

The ten push-ups weren't hard to do, and if he were in shape he probably could have done one hundred, but he still was slightly flushed. He flipped onto his back and did the twenty sit-ups in no time.

"All right. Now hold your arm straight across your chest for eight seconds like this," instructed Sarah as she stretched out her left arm across her chest. John did as he was told.

A few minutes later they completed six different stretches and now were in the process of putting John back to bed.

Sarah smoothed a hand over his head before she left his room to set out for her mother's office.

When Sarah arrived at her mother's door, she noticed a note tacked onto it. It read:

Sarah-

Mrs. Sanell went into labor. I might be gone all day. You know the drill.

See you when I get back.

-Mother

Mrs. Sanell was the baker's wife. A quiet, kind woman now having her first child. She was actually Sarah's age, twenty-four. It wasn't unusual to be married and with child at this time. Because of this Kancia often joked how the three of them (Kancia, Nanaii, and Sarah) would become spinsters at this rate.

Sarah went into her mother's office to find that royal genealogy book. She found it, already under a stack of papers on Berin's desk. She pulled it out and flipped to the last chapter in the thick tome.

Again she came to the family picture with that prince whom held an eerie resemblance to John. She shook her head to clear it then set out to look for names of the royal family's advisors and friends.

She didn't look for long when she came upon the name "Balgus." King Goau's comrade-at-arms, one of Fanelia's four generals, and advisor. He was also the two princes' teacher and one of the three great sword masters of Gaea.

"It seems impossible, but more and more evidence shows up pointing out that John is probably this Prince Folken," Sarah muttered to herself.

She spent an hour reading all there was to read about this particular Fanel family and still found it a little too sketchy for her tastes. She closed the book and set it in the original that she found it so it wouldn't disorganize her mother's messy desk. She then went out to feed the horses.

Author's Notes: Do you know how hard it is to find the right place to stop so I could make it into a chapter? I had to read and skim a bit to find a suitable stopping place.

Are you guys happy I finally updated? Please review.